Dr. Charlie cocked her head to the side, studying my mom before nodding. “Understood. Do you want something for those bad days?”
My mom shook her head. “No, thank you. If it’s that bad, then I probably need more than pain medication. I just don’t like how they make me feel all fuzzy and loopy.”
“You’re not the only one who says that. All right. So we’ll make that referral for physical therapy.” Dr. Charlie’s gaze slid to mine. “Any questions? Concerns?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is there anything I need to be monitoring more?” I asked. I felt more than saw my mother roll her eyes. She gave off a vibe when she did that, and it was strong.
“I don’t think so. Your mother has her Lupus well monitored. I’m glad you’re here to support her,” Dr. Charlie replied.
“Of course you’re glad he’s here,” my mom said. “He takes good care of me, but I take good care of him too.”
“I’ve no doubt about that,” Dr. Charlie said with a warm smile.
After we left, the car was quiet for a few minutes as I drove before my mom spoke. “You know this isn’t terminal, Kincaid.”
My chest felt tight, and I had to take a slow breath to help loosen it enough to speak. “I know. But you’re not going to live forever, Mom.”
“I know,” she exclaimed. “But I’m also not going anywhere anytime soon, and no one lives forever. I’m only fifty-five, and Dr. Charlie agrees with my last doctor. I should have an average life expectancy.”
I let out a sharp breath. “I just hate seeing you in pain, Mom.”
She fell quiet for a few beats. “I know you do.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand.
“In the meantime, stop treating me like I’m an invalid. I just have a cane,” she ordered.
I released her hand, shaking my head as a laugh sputtered out. “I will endeavor not to treat you like an invalid.”
“Oh, good vocabulary,” she teased.
My mind spun back to when I was a little boy, when she used to help me with my homework. She became an English teacher after she left the Air Force, and she had high standards.
“So, speaking of me not living forever…” she began before a loaded pause. “When are you going to have me a grandchild?”
This time, my laugh was a startled choke. “Jesus, Mom. Give me some time.”
“Well, chop, chop.” She let out a little laugh. “Obviously, I’m teasing. It’s fine if you don’t want to have children. That said, I would hope you would be open to some kind of relationship.”
Tori instantly strolled into my thoughts. In all honesty, she was the first woman I’d ever met where I thought maybe, maybe, I might want more than something superficial. And yet, the baggage around relationships was heavy for me. Largely thanks to the father I’d never met. He was a big part of the reason, or at least it felt like to me, that my mom had wanted to come back to Alaska. She insisted that wasn’t the driving force for her, but I wasn’t so sure.
“If it ever feels right,” I said slowly, “I might consider a relationship.”
“Oh, my God. That is ridiculously vague,” my mother pointed out.
“Says the woman who went through life insisting she didn’t need anyone,” I countered.
“Well, I didn’t, and you don’t either. Not like that. It’s more than that. We all need each other, but it doesn’t have to be romance.” She paused. “Kincaid, you’re a good man, and I want the best for you.”
“I know, Mom. I know.” I took a slow breath. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Nine
Tori
“Seriously, Mom?”
