CHAPTER 54
TRENT
“Mitch, it’s fine. I’m okay, I promise.”
Mitch tilts his chin down and stares at me over the rim of his eyeglasses. He’s feeling better today, so he wanted to get out of bed and move to the couch to work on a puzzle. We’re going to go on a walk later, but I don’t want to push him too hard. The doctor recommends daily activity now that most of the side effects from Chemo have worn off. They still expect him to be tired and nauseous at times, but for the most part, he’ll be back to normal.
Hearing that was like seeing the sunshine after a storm, a relief like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Mitch is fine. He’s okay. He’s not going to die.
He slapped me lovingly on the back of the head when I broke down in front of the doctor, but I know he was just as relieved as I was. It’s been rough, but things are finally looking up for us.
“You’re not fine. I can see how red and puffy your eyes are,” he says. The concern in his dark eyes causes my throat to choke up.
“Wow, that’s rude,” I remark, clearing my throat and trying to divert the subject.
“What’s rude is you holding out on me.”
Okay, that is true. But I don’t want to tell him the truth. Especially about Kian being home. Because if he knows Kian is home, he’ll know that’s what has me so upset. Mitch won’t play favorites between me and Kian, no matter how much Kian thinks otherwise. Mitch was a dad to both of us when our parents failed us.
“Kian’s back,” I mumble, my eyes focused on the TV.
“Excuse the hell out of me, what did you say?” His tone is shocked, as it should be. Kian hasn’t stepped foot in this town since he walked away. It was extremely hard for Mitch those first few months. And when I finally had the courage to tell him what happened, he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be pissed at me for putting myself in that situation or mad on my behalf. He went with mad on my behalf, and he’s had my back since then.
“Kian’s back. He tried to come over last night.” And when that happened, I might have also let him into my home and almost let him fuck me. That’s just semantics.
“Tried to come over? Where?” The hope in Mitch’s voice wraps around my heart and squeezes.
“Here. He was over here, and Katie didn’t answer the door–”
Mitch doesn’t give me a chance to finish. “Damnit, I knew I heard something, but she told me I was paranoid.”
“You know how she is about answering the door,” I defend. Because yeah, it’s shitty she didn’t answer the door. But she couldn’t have known.
“Did you stop him? Talk to him? Anything?”
“We… talked.” My face burns red, and Mitch’s gaze narrows on me.
“Yeah, uh huh. Just talked?” He smirks, the cheeky bastard.
I’m saved from having to answer, because my phone rings in my pocket. My doorbell ringtone. I unlock my phone and click on the notification.
There, standing on my porch in the cold weather with nothing except a long sleeve shirt and his hair pulled into a ponytail, is the man of my dreams.
I freeze, staring at my phone.
“What?” Mitch asks, and I’m snapped out of my inner turmoil.
What is he doing back at my house? That can only mean something good, right? Fuck, I can’t get my hopes up. Not now, not ever. Not when it comes to him.
“Kian’s at my house.”
Mitch pushes himself to a standing position, and I robotically offer him my arm like every other time. “Get your ass up. We’re going to get him.”
I tense, and Mitch keeps his grip tight on my arm. I can feel the blunt tips of his nails digging into my skin through my shirt. “Uhm. I don’t know.”
He pulls on me, exerting more force than he should be.
Damnit. Damnit. I don’t want to go over there and talk to him, not after yesterday. Not with Mitch as a witness to all my shortcomings.
“I’m going with or without you,” Mitch declares.
Well, that doesn’t leave me with much of a choice, because I’m not letting Mitch out of my sight.
“Let’s go,” I huff, standing up.
He goes toward the front door, but I stop him before he can open it.
“Put your jacket on,” I demand.
He rolls his eyes, but does as I say. Slipping each arm carefully through the sleeves and zipping it up. “Good enough?”
I’m tempted to tell him no just to fuck with him. But I’m not that evil. “Aren’t you supposed to be the parent?”
“Shut the hell up, and come on. Let’s go get our boy back.”
Our boy. How I wish that was true, but one day maybe. Hopefully.
But that’s the thing about hope, it’s the easiest thing to have and the easiest thing to be taken away.