“Where are the rug rats!” Brian said from the doorway, fake anger filling the room. “Your mom needs to rest.”
He swept in, flexing his big muscles. One arm scooped Ethan up and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Ethan laughed so hard he squealed. Then Brian grabbed Lila with his other arm, tucking her against his side.
Joy filled me as I watched them. Brian looked so handsome. Fit. Alive. Positive energy spilling out of him. A family man through and through.
How did I get so lucky?
Brian carried both kids out the door just as Amanda stepped into the hallway. She stopped short when she saw him.
“I’ll give Ethan a bath,” she said, taking him from Brian’s arms.
Our eyes met, and I smiled at her. Gratitude welled up, for everything she’d done for me.
Their voices faded down the hall, and my mom came in with a wash basin in her hands. It felt like something from another century. An old historical drama.
And we all knew what it meant.
Time for a cat wash.
I didn’t shower this morning. And now it would be too much of a fall risk. Too exhausting. So we did this instead. A basin. A cloth. And soap.
Dylan leaned down, kissed my cheek, then slipped out, closing the door behind him.
I sat up and watched my mom place the wash basin on the nightstand like it was the most normal thing in the world. Her face stayed steady. Calm. Whatever pain she carried never made it to her eyes.
“Robert called. That lead in Florida wasn’t John Myers.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe that monster is still out there. They should at least pretend to try to find him.”
I pinched my lips. The first few weeks after my release were terrifying. Amanda had hired personal security when the State refused to protect us. But nothing bad happened, and weeks turned into months. Then a year, two. And with time came something close to a normal life again. One without the constant fear that Myers might come for me. Or my mom.
“Robert also said he wants to meet on Friday,” she continued casually, as if talking about grocery deals. “That interview that Thomas Harlow did, the one in which he mentioned the bowling alley parking lot video and Dylan. Apparently, he said things he shouldn’t have. Robert thinks it violated the settlement agreement, which means more money, he says.”
The basin shifted as she dipped the cloth into the water.
We’d sued the State for a lot of money. Due process violations. A list of screwups as long as the Great Wall of China. They dropped all the charges. Then they settled fast. One point five million. Robert said it was low. But it meant no more fighting. All charges would be dropped. No time in court. He said that part mattered more than the money.
“Think about it,” my mom said. “It’s up to you if you want to ignore the AG or go after him.”
I nodded.
“Lavender or lemon?” she asked, holding up the bottles of body wash.
I pointed at the lavender.
Brian’s favorite smell.
Her eyebrows rose. Like she already knew.
“Dear God, Lacey,” she said, scolding but amused. “You were born with the spirit of a horny old man.”
A laugh shook out of me without sound. My shoulders bounced. I shrugged, as innocent as ever.
The doctor had said intimacy was good for me. Mom had raised concerns about health, safety, energy. All of it. But the doctor talked about how sick people were still humans. He said that, in some patients, desire didn’t disappear just because they were ill. That wanting someone was still human. Still allowed.
Intimacy had been one of the hardest parts of this whole cancer nightmare. People didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to picture it. As if sick bodies weren’t supposed to love. Of course, everyone was different, and it also depended on how sick someone was. But I wanted my husband. I wanted him badly. Watching him stand by me when it got ugly, when it was humiliating, only made my longing for him stronger.
So the doctor prescribed Brian Viagra without flinching. And explained it was normal to struggle with erection issues due to feelings of sadness and stress.
A knock sounded at the door, and Brian came in.
