“But I…I feel bad ditching you, with your hand and you—”
“Who said I wanted to hang out with you today?” She pulls a face that fosters shared laughter between us for a moment, and I smack her lightly on the arm with a scoff. Our giggling’s loud enough the men outside turn to check on us with raised eyebrows. “I found my soulmate, too. And I’m so thankful for the years we’ve had together…you never know when it might end, so take advantage while you can.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, honey.” Her frail arms wrap around my shoulders, and my forehead knocks into hers. I swim in the comfort of the embrace, and the floral scent of her perfume, and the feel of her thin hair tickling my cheek, and all the things I pray I’ll never forget. I lick away the tears sliding onto my lip and squeeze tighter.
“I love you,” I whisper once more, with thick emotion clung to each word.
Letting up as Denver and Dad step into the living room, Mom hooks her thumb toward the front entryway. “Okay, kids. Go have fun, and I promise to do my bestnotto hurt myself again this weekend.”
“You can’t even make those kinds of promises. You’ve always been a klutz,” Dad says with a chuckle.
Mom nods. “Put me in a bubble, and I’ll break an ankle walking on the uneven surface.”
“If there’s any issues at all, I’ll come straight back. We don’t want this burn to get infected, so keep it clean.” I wiggle a finger between both of my parents, because Mom’s lucid enough to comprehend at the moment, but eventually it’ll be up to Dad to keep an eye on her.
Clutching Denver’s forearm with the grip of somebody about to be torn out to sea, I follow him to the truck. The tremble in my lip unnoticeable. The stinging in my eyes minor. The fickle beating of my heart insignificant.
Until it’s not.
He slips into the driver’s seat, asking where we’re heading next, and my carefully constructed walls implode in one fell swoop.
“W-what happens…” I heave a panicked breath, not able to fill my lungs. “What happens if…if…”
“Bear. Take a breath.” He demonstrates as if I don’t understand the concept of breathing. Like it isn’t something I’ve done without issue for thirty-two years—save for the time I caught a virus in ninth grade and it damn near took me out.
Television static pulses under my skin, and he’s hauling me into his lap, cradling my skull so our faces are close enough his exhalations become my inhalations. Our souls intertwined on his truck’s bench seat, Denver’s palm is warm on my chest, and it tugs at my heart and lungs like a marionette until the panic dissolves.
“Talk to me,” he mumbles against my cheek, sifting fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck.
And my biggest fear crashes down on us. “What if I end up like Mom?”
“Then we’ll take it in stride, like every other possible thing that might happen in our lifetime. Dying is inevitable, living isn’t. I want to live as much as I can with you, Bear.” His lips press delicate kisses to every freckle on my face. “No matter what happens in the future, I’ll be there.”
He’ll be there.
And so will I.
Blair
The air’s still and quiet for the first time all morning, thanks to the seven children under the age of ten who turned the clinic into a playground while I gave their sweet, tired mother a Pap test—and twenty minutes relaxing alone in my office with a coffee from the machine Denver bought.
Now my brain’s fried, and it’s not even ten o’clock. I wheel my desk chair over to the new mini-fridge again, grabbing an individually wrapped chocolate and pushing myself back to my desk. Popping the treat into my mouth, I stare at the X-ray results in front of me for a middle-aged patient who’s been complaining about hip pain. I’m trying to do my work,truly,but my eyes refuse to focus and my brain rejects any words I manage to read. So I glide back over to the fridge and try again.
Rolling my neck, I crack my knuckles and reach for my phone. Clearly work isn’t happening today, and I desperately need out of my head.
Blair:Hey, does that offer still stand for me to borrow a horse?
I toss the phone down on the desk and shuffle through papers, trying to look busy even though nobody’s here to notice. I could be sleeping at my desk and it wouldn’t matter. Iglance at my phone, huffing over the fact that Denver hasn’t texted me back within two seconds of receiving my message. After our long conversation the morning after the wedding, he’s been even more adamant that I do some self-care, so I was expecting him to jump at this opportunity.
I’m swiping an obscene amount of chocolate wrappers into the trash can, silently cursing Denver for buying them, when my phone buzzes.
Denver:Always. Grab the buckskin in paddock six. I’m pretty far out, so I can’t join you, though.
Denver:Think you remember how to tack up?
Blair:Bet I can saddle a horse faster than you can
