Bittersweet Catastrophe (Second Chances #2.5) (14 page)

“Shayne, you even said yourself that this isn’t a death sentence for me. Stop acting like it is. It’s my choice, not yours, and I’m sure any fiercely protective mother in my shoes would choose the same.” She took my hand, lacing her fingers through mine, and gave it a firm squeeze. “I’m choosing to protect the lives of our children. They come first now. They’ll always come first.”

“So you’re not going to give this any more thought? You’re just gonna say ‘fuck it’, throw caution to the wind, and hope for the best?”

She sniffled, releasing a defeated sigh. “If that’s how you want to look at it, then yes, but that’s now how I see it. I wish you’d understand where I’m coming from, but I don’t think you ever will. You’ll never know what it’s like to carry a child, Shayne. You’ll never know what if feels like to literally have another life growing inside of you, and then have the possibility of that life being torn away from you thrown in your face. W-well, I’m feeling that two-fold now.” Her resolve broke, and she buried her face against our hands still linked together, tears slipping through our fingers. “I know you might not agree with my decision, but for me, it’s the right choice. The only choice.”

“Liberty, baby, please…” I brought our joined hands up to my lips. Fuck, if I had to resort to begging, I’d do it. I’d gladly fucking do it. I’d get on my hands and knees and grovel if I had to. I had done it before when she tried to leave me once, and here I was, ready to fall to my knees before her all over again. “Please, just give it some time. Think about everything you could lose. Everything we could both lose.”

She released my hand and brushed the back of her fingers along the stubble aligning my jaw. “Shayne, you and Dr. Ramesh can plead your cases until you’re blue in the face, but it won’t make a difference. This is my choice, and I’m sticking to it. I want our children to live happy and healthy lives, even if that means I can’t be a part of them.”

God, I hoped that was just her pregnancy brain talking because she sure as shit wasn’t thinking clearly. Whatever it was that she was seeing had become skewed and distorted by rose-colored glasses, and if she’d only take them off and allow herself to see the big picture, the reality of what was to come, she might’ve reconsidered what she was about to put herself through. Cancer wasn’t a joke. I watched it take my mother’s life and, essentially, my father’s as well. To this very day, he is still coping with her death, and to think that Liberty would willingly put not only me, but others through that as well, was probably the most selfish thing she could ever do. I couldn’t sit there and listen to her any longer. My own willpower was beginning to crumble. Suddenly greeted with a heavy affirmation that she wasn’t going to sway her decision, I grabbed my keys and wallet and bolted for the front door.

“Wait. W-where are you going?”

“Out.” 

“Where? When will you be back?” She raced to my side and grabbed my forearm. The way she looked up at me, her eyes so full of fear and regret, teeming with fresh tears… Goddamit, I had to turn away.

“Look,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose with my free hand. “I just need some time to process all of this. This isn't exactly easy for me.”

“And you think it's easy for m-me?”

I glared down at her. “You're the one calling the shots here, not me. I'm clearly not a part of the decision making process.”

“I know, but Shayne…”

“No.” I yanked my arm free from her grasp. “You’re my wife. It’s you and me now. The choices you make don’t affect just you anymore…and you’ve made your choice.”

Swinging the door open, I glanced back at Liberty, though I wished I hadn’t.
I couldn't stand the thought of spending a single second away from her...let alone an entire lifetime. We still had so many plans, so many dreams, and without a second thought, she was throwing that all away as though none of them ever mattered. As broken as she looked right now, I couldn’t help but feel consumed by anger and resentment because of the choice she had made. I had no right to tell her how to live her life or treat her body, but goddammit, I wasn’t ready to let her go yet. I couldn’t lose her. Not now...not ever. Without her, I was nothing. What hurt even more, what gutted me straight through to my core, was that she was okay with it.

Well, I wasn’t fucking okay with it.

Not by a long shot.

I drove around for hours with no destination in mind, just following the curves of the road to wherever they would take me. The setting sun stained the ocean with vibrant reds and oranges, making it appear as though the waves bled as they rippled up the beach, and I followed the road alongside them until I couldn’t go any further.

Pulling into the parking lot of the last place I ever expected to end up, I threw the Jeep into park and slammed the door shut. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more bullshit tonight, but I was already there, so I might as well bite the bullet and stop in for a drink or two. Fuck, if anyone could understand how I was feeling at that very moment,
he
sure as hell would, and although I knew no one loved Liberty as much as I did, he came pretty damn close.

Fate had a funny fucking way of making me realize that.

It was just about closing time, but the lights were still on and the door left unlocked. The place was completely deserted, other than a few waitresses wiping down tables and stacking chairs, but they paid no attention to me. I walked up to the bar and pulled out a stool, eyeing the full bottle of Jack against the far wall. I didn’t drink as often as I used to, other than a few beers here or there, but right now, that amber bottle had my motherfucking name written all over it.

Just as I was about to call out to see if I could get a little service, Brett came out from the back room with a full case of liquor in his arms. The look on his face was almost comical, and I smirked, knowing he wasn’t happy to see me either. Stepping behind the bar, he set the box down and stood with his arms folded across his chest. “You know she’s not working tonight.”

“Yeah,” I threw back tersely. “I know.”

“Look, if you got something to say, just say it. Otherwise, you know where the door is.”

I shook my head back and forth, resting my elbows on top of the bar. “I’m not here to fight with you, man. I just came in for a drink.”

“Right.” Brett bent down and started restocking bottles of vodka. “Well, what’s it gonna be?”

“Jack. Straight up.”

His eyebrow shot up with a questioning look, and he reached for a glass above him. “So it’s that kinda night, huh?” Pouring the bottle at a snail’s pace, he looked up at me with a crooked smile. “Having problems with the missus?”

“Something like that.” I threw back the glass, letting the burn of the liquor numb me, and slammed it down on the bar. Tapping the top of the glass, Brett quickly refilled it.

“Well, I have to admit, you look like shit. Not sure if this is going to help any.”

“Trust me.” I threw back the second shot, and the burn subsided even faster than the first. “It’s already helping.”

“So, not to sound nosey or anything, but…”

“You can be as nosey as you want, man. It’s a free fucking country.”

“Oookay, so what’s crawled up your ass, Uncle Sam?”

“You really want to know?” I snickered. Snaking the bottle of Jack out of his hand, I poured myself another shot and set it down beside me. “My wife has fucking cancer. Cheers.” The liquor flowed down my throat, dulling the pain those few words had caused. I hung my head, unable to look at Brett as he choked out “fuck”, but when I finally tore my eyes away from the empty glass in front of me, I found him running his hands down his face and blinking away unshed tears. He sucked in a deep breath and forced it from his lungs, trying to regain his composure.

“I think this calls for reinforcements…and maybe more alcohol.” He pulled his phone out and tapped away at the screen before eyeing the bottle next to me. “Definitely more alcohol.” He slipped his phone back in his pocket and dug around for something beneath the bar. As he pulled out a bottle of Blue Label scotch, I nearly choked at the sight of it. I had to give it to him. He had good taste, but that was a two hundred dollar bottle of liquor he was cracking open!

“You inviting Johnny to the party, too?” I smiled, watching him toss back a shot and nearly cough it all back up.

“Well, I was saving it for a special occasion, but I think now is as good a time as any.” He threw back another shot, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and shoved the bottle closer to me. “Fuck, man. I can’t believe it.” I could hear the emotion bubbling in his throat. “When did you find out about Liberty?”

“She had a biopsy done a few days ago, but today it was confirmed.” I poured myself two fingers’ worth, second guessing whether I should waste the forty-five dollar shot because I sure as shit wasn’t paying for it.
Fuck it.
My eyes began to water, but I welcomed the scorching heat as it ran down my throat. My vision blurred, and I could barely make eye contact with Brett, but the second I did, I could see everything I was feeling, all of the pain and anger and fear of the unknown, reflecting back at me. It suddenly hit me why I came here. I wanted someone to understand what I was going through; someone to share in my heartache, and tell me that it wasn’t wrong or selfish of me to want her to live. “She…she refuses to get treatment until after the babies are born.”

Brett pounded his fist against the bar top, causing nearby bottles to rattle, and he hung his head, shaking it from side to side. “Of all the goddamn stubborn things for her to pull…” He huffed out, propping his hands on his hips. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

I tilted my head to the side.
Was that a serious question?
“You really think I’d be sitting here shooting the shit with you if I hadn’t?”

“Good point.” He poured himself another shot and topped mine off. “I just don’t get it. Why would she want to put it off? This is crazy. Is she worried about medical bills? Because you know I’d help you guys out in a heartbeat if you needed it. All issues aside, we used to be like brothers, man, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I saw what you went through with your mom when we were little, and to think of that happening to your own kids… Shit. She doesn’t deserve this,” his voiced softened. “She’s the last person to ever deserve something like this.”

“No one deserves to get cancer, Brett.” I swallowed the shot and waved him off as he tried to pour another. “But for once, I have to agree with you.”

He stepped around the bar and came up beside me. “I’m sorry, what was that? Shayne-fucking-Thompson actually agreed with me? Am I hearing you right?”

“Fuck off, man.” I grinned, shoving him back, but the smile on my face soon fell when everything hit me at once. He was right. She didn’t deserve this.

She. Didn’t. Fucking. Deserve. This.

Brett slowly moved toward me as though he were trying to gauge my reaction to his close proximity, and I looked at him, man to man, and let him wrap his arm around me. “Everything’s going to work out, Shayne. It has to. None of us want to lose her.” My shoulders slumped, and I gave in, reaching around and slapping him on the back. “She’s a lot stronger than she looks. Trust me. I know,” he chuckled softly.

I reined in my emotions and nodded. “Yeah, at least she has you to use as her personal punching bag.” I grabbed him in a chokehold and gave him a subtle punch to the gut. The air flew out of his lungs, and he hunched forward, trying to catch his breath. All right, maybe it wasn’t as subtle as I had intended it to be, but he had it coming to him.

“Her punching bag, man. Not yours.” He held his stomach, choking out a laugh.

A few minutes later, Robbie and Lance came barging through the doors of the restaurant, both nearly out of breath. I looked back at Brett with an eyebrow raised. “Reinforcements?”

“I figured you could use a little moral support.” The corner of his mouth pulled up into an apologetic grin. “Besides, I haven’t had a guy’s night in ages, and since we already cracked open the expensive booze, I’m not letting that shit go to waste. So drink up!”

“And you called
these two
in for a guy’s night?” I whispered as they approached.

“Are you okay? Did we get here in time?” Robbie looked around before his gaze rolled over me from head to toe.

“Uh, I’m not the one you need to worry about, guys. It’s Liberty–”

“Oh, thank God, we beat him here.” Robbie cut me off, wiping the sweat from his brow. “He left about thirty seconds after us, and we wanted to get here before anything went down. Wait…what does Liberty have to do with this?”