Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Darryl
I was lounging on my couch, flipping through channels, the glow of the TV lighting up the room.
Last night’s dinner still lingered in my head—Ashley had won over my family like it was nothing, and I’d dodged Mom’s questions for another day.
The action movie I’d landed on was loud, guns blazing, when my phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Ashley’s name popped up, and I grabbed it, expecting her to rib me about Jen’s old photos.
I answered, kicking my feet up. “Hey,” I said, keeping it light. “What’s up?”
“Darryl,” she said, her voice wobbly, not her usual bounce. “I need you. Can you come? I’m at the hospital.”
I bolted upright, the remote hitting the floor. “Hospital? You hurt?”
“No,” she said, sniffing hard. “It’s my mom. Please, just get here. I’ll text you the address.”
“Yeah,” I said, already snagging my keys. “I’m coming. Hold on.”
“Thanks,” she said, her voice cracking before the line went dead.
A second later, the text came through with the hospital name and room number.
My gut twisted, but I didn’t wait, yanking on my jacket and heading out.
The drive was quick, a few miles through empty streets, but it dragged in my head, the silence heavy with the radio off.
I pulled into the visitor lot, the hospital’s lights cutting through the gray afternoon, and hustled inside, following the signs to her mom’s floor.
Ashley was pacing outside the room, arms wrapped tight around herself, eyes red but holding it together. She’d ditched the green dress for jeans and a hoodie, her hair a messy bun. “Hey,” I said, slowing down. “You okay?”
“No,” she said, stepping toward me. “Thanks for coming. It’s rough.”
“What’s happening?” I said, keeping my tone calm.
“She’s sick,” she said, her voice trembling. “Cancer. I didn’t say much before, but it’s bad now. Come meet her, alright?”
“Sure,” I said, nodding. “Show me.”
She pushed the door open, and we walked into a small room, the steady beep of a monitor filling the space. Her mom was propped up in bed, a scarf around her head, looking thin but smiling when she saw us. “Ashley,” she said, her voice soft but warm. “Who’s this?”
“Mom,” Ashley said, managing a smile. “This is Darryl. My boyfriend.”
“Hey,” I said, stepping up, offering a hand. “Good to meet you.”
“Carol,” she said, shaking my hand, her grip light but steady. “Boyfriend? Ashley’s been keeping you under wraps.”
“Not on purpose,” I said, grinning a bit. “She’s been busy.”
“She sure has,” Carol said, patting the bed. “Sit, you two. Tell me about him, Ashley.”
“He’s a pilot,” Ashley said, pulling a chair over for me and sitting close. “We work together. He’s grumpy sometimes, but he’s the best.”
“Grumpy?” Carol said, chuckling. “He looks sweet to me.”
“Give it time,” I said, settling in. “She brings it out.”
“He’s joking,” Ashley said, nudging me. “He’s been amazing, Mom.”
A nurse popped in, cutting us off. “Ashley McBride?” she said. “Doctor needs to see you.”
“Okay,” Ashley said, standing. “Be right back, Mom. Darryl, stay with her?”
“Got it,” I said, nodding as she slipped out. Carol watched her go, then turned to me, her smile softening.
“She’s scared,” she said, folding her hands. “I can see it. You’re good for her, though. I like you already.”
“She’s tough,” I said, leaning forward. “Keeps me on my toes.”
“She’s always been tough,” Carol said, her voice warm. “Since she was little. Do you fly planes? That’s impressive.”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging. “Ten years now. Keeps me moving.”
“Must be fun,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Tell me about it.”
I started talking, keeping it easy, about a wild landing in a storm once, a kid who asked if I could fly to the moon.
She laughed, faint but genuine, and asked about the cockpit, the view from up there, stuff I didn’t usually get into.
She was easy to chat with, kind, and I saw where Ashley got her spark.
She told me about Ashley falling off a swing at six, cracking up at the memory, and I laughed too, picturing it.
We kept going, swapping stories, maybe half an hour passing, until my phone buzzed with a text from Ashley: Come outside.
“Hold up,” I said, standing. “She needs me. I’ll be back.”
“Go,” Carol said, waving me off. “Tell her I’m okay.”
I stepped into the hall, looking around, and saw Ashley by a window, her back to me, shaking with sobs. I walked over, my chest tightening. “Hey,” I said, touching her shoulder. “What’s going on?”
She turned, tears streaming down her face, her hands balled up. “The doctor,” she said, her voice breaking. “He said Mom’s only got three months. Maybe less.”
“Damn,” I said, pulling her into a hug, holding her close. “I’m sorry.”
She pressed her face into my shirt, crying hard, and I kept my arms around her, letting her get it out. “I don’t know how to tell her,” she said, muffled against me. “She’s been so strong, and now this? She’ll hate it.”
“She’s a fighter,” I said, rubbing her back. “Like you. We’ll figure it out together.”
“How?” she said, pulling back, wiping her face. “She’ll ask, and I can’t hide it.”
“We’ll tell her,” I said, keeping my voice solid. “She needs to know. I’ll be there with you.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding, her breath shaky. “Thanks.”
We walked back to the room, her hand gripping mine, her nails digging in. Carol looked up as we came in, her smile dropping fast. “What’s wrong?” she said, sitting up. “Ashley, you’re crying.”
“Mom,” Ashley said, sitting on the bed, still holding my hand. “The doctor talked to me. It’s not good news.”
“What’d he say?” Carol said, her voice trembling, her eyes wide.
Ashley took a deep breath, tears falling again. “He said you’ve got three months. Maybe less. The cancer’s too much.”
Carol’s face broke, her hands covering her mouth, and she started crying, quiet at first, then louder. “Oh, honey,” she said, pulling Ashley into a hug. “I knew it was tough, but not that soon.”
“I’m sorry,” Ashley said, sobbing with her. “I didn’t want this.”
“It’s not your fault,” Carol said, stroking her hair. “You’ve been my rock. That’s all I need.”
I stood there, hands in my pockets, until Carol looked at me, tears streaking her face. “Darryl,” she said, reaching out. “You’re good to her. Stick around, alright?”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping up, taking her hand. “I’m here.”
She nodded, wiping her eyes, then let out a shaky laugh. “Three months,” she said. “Not enough. I wanted to see you in a wedding dress, Ashley. That’s all I’ve dreamed of.”
Ashley cried harder, clinging to her mom, and I swallowed, the words hitting me soft. I spoke up, keeping it gentle. “We can do that,” I said, looking at them. “I love Ashley. No doubts about her. We’ll get married as soon as we can, if she’s up for it.”
Ashley froze, pulling back to stare at me, her mouth open. “Darryl,” she said, her voice a whisper. “You mean that?”
“Yeah,” I said, meeting her eyes, then Carol’s. “I love you. Been sure for a while. Marry me, Ashley. We’ll do it fast, so she’s there.”
Carol’s tears turned to a smile, her hands clasping together. “Oh, you two,” she said, laughing through it. “That’s beautiful.”
“Mom,” Ashley said, turning to her. “You want this?”
“Yes,” Carol said, nodding fast. “If you’re happy, yes. I want to see my girl in that dress.”
“Okay,” Ashley said, looking back at me, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“Alright,” I said, grinning widely. “We’ll make it quick. For you, Carol.”
“For me,” Carol said, pulling us both into a hug. “My girl and my new son. I’ll hold on for that.”
“You better,” Ashley said, laughing through her tears. “We’re doing this for you.”
We stayed there, the three of us, planning it out, Carol joking about a white dress, Ashley teasing me about a suit, me promising we’d pull it off. It was pretend, just for her mom, but it felt sweet, and when we left, Ashley walked me to my car, the night settling in.
“Thanks,” she said, leaning against me. “That was perfect for her.”
“Yeah,” I said, wrapping an arm around her. “Meant it for her. You in?”
“All in,” she said, smiling up. “You’re stuck now.”
“Good,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Let’s give her that day.”
She nodded, and I drove off, the hospital shrinking behind me. Three months wasn’t long, but we’d make it count, for Carol’s sake.