Bittersweet Catastrophe (Second Chances #2.5) (21 page)

“Like I just got hit by a semi.” Her face scrunched up. She couldn’t move more than an inch without moaning in pain.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you don’t look like it.” I ran my nose along her jawline and whispered in her ear, “You look so damn beautiful.”

“It’s the new boobs,” she said matter-of-factly, and I pulled back to find her smiling devilishly.

“It is not the new boobs, and you know it. Boobs or no boobs, you’re gorgeous. Hell, you could wear a freakin’ garbage bag and shave your head, and you’d still look hot as fuck.”

“I guess we’ll see if that still holds true…since I’ll be losing my hair in a few weeks anyway.”

Shit.
I didn’t think of that.
“Baby, that is the last thing you should be worried about right now. You already made it over the first hurdle and still have a long way to go. Let’s focus on getting you healthy first, and we’ll worry about your looks later.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not going to lose your hair.”

Laying my head next to hers on the pillow, I pressed my lips to her forehead. “Then I’ll shave my head. We can be shiny cue balls together.”

“Yeah right, you wouldn’t part with your luscious locks.” She carefully lifted her hand, hissing a breath through her teeth as she reached up and ran her fingers through my hair. “You might want to second guess that decision, Shayne. I’m not so sure you’d look good bald.” She smirked, and I couldn’t hold back the laughter bubbling in my chest.

Little did she know, I wasn’t joking about shaving my head. Four weeks after her surgery, she began chemotherapy treatments, and the moment she felt even the tiniest clump of hair fall out in the shower, I took the clippers to my head and removed it all. She spent that entire day crying in bed, whether for her own hair loss or mine, but soon she got used to the idea and found that she really enjoyed rubbing my smooth head. She said it gave her good luck; I said she was crazy.

We were allowed to bring the babies home the week before Liberty started her treatments, which I was grateful for because it gave her time to bond with them before things went progressively down hill. I watched her day after day, sitting in the nursery with both Liam and Lillian in her arms, her gaze locked on them and a smile never leaving her face. I loved seeing her like that, as if nothing in the world could possibly bring her down from those few happy moments that she shared with them. She was already such a good mother to our children, and I could see in her eyes that it pained her to know that soon, she wouldn’t be able to take care of them the way she would like to. Soon, it would be me taking care of all three of them.

The first day she went in for treatments, the nurse told her that going through chemo was the true test of a patient’s strength.

She wasn’t fucking kidding.

The body aches, the fatigue, and the nausea that made it nearly impossible for her to keep even a bite of food down, were just the beginning. Liberty had lost so much weight; I felt like I was watching a shell of a woman fade away before my very eyes, and it killed me having to stand by and watch her suffer through it all. It killed me not being able to do anything to help her, and I spent more nights not only carrying Liam and Lillian to bed, but carrying my own wife as well.

At times, I felt like breaking down and throwing in the towel, unable to handle the stress of working to provide for my family while raising two newborns and taking care of Liberty. Yet, I knew, in the end, all of the pain and suffering and sleepless nights would be worth it.

In the end, she’d have her life.

But a few months later, I found out just how wrong I was, and I had no one to blame but myself.

The drugs they were pumping Liberty full of had depleted her immune system to next to nothing, and we had to be careful who and what she was exposed to. We were constantly washing our hands, and when she actually had an appetite, her food had to be properly cleaned and cooked. Leaving the house was always a big ordeal, and with two kids in tow, we were lucky if it took us under an hour just to get ready to leave.

On one of Liberty’s good days, we decided to take Liam and Lillian to the library for story hour. It was our first time taking them, and although it was meant for the kids, I think Liberty was more excited to go than the rest of us. She was literally bouncing in her seat on the car ride there, which, for the first time in a long time, made me full out laugh.

When we stepped inside, I immediately regretted my decision. There were children coughing and wiping runny noses, and the parents with them weren’t much better. I was about to turn right around and take them all home, but the pleading look in Liberty’s eyes convinced me to stay. I wished now that we hadn’t.

We sat there, Liam in my lap and Lillian in hers, while the other children crawled around restlessly at our feet and ignored the woman reading to them. Liberty, on the other hand, smiled complacently and bounced Lillian on her knee as the story continued. How she even had the strength to do that was a true sign of just how determined she was beat this disease. She never complained and never asked for help, but I refused to let her push the limits of how much she could really handle. The doctors constantly reminded me to intervene if need be, and I only wished that I had listened to them this one time. It was only an hour long, but that one hour alone was one I would regret for the rest of my life.

It started off as a light cough, and I merely thought she was just clearing her throat, nothing out of the ordinary. Liberty was never one to bring attention to herself when she was sick, so I thought nothing of it. But three days later, as I was coming home from work, I walked into the kitchen to find Liberty wheezing and gasping for air. Her face was flushed, and even sitting at the table, she looked like she was about to pass out. I quickly washed up and placed the back of my hand against her forehead. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.

“Shit, you’re burning up.” I slipped my arm around her waist and helped her stand.

“I’m s-so cold.” Her teeth chattered as she said it, and she leaned all of her weight, which wasn’t much, against me.

“I know, sweetheart. You have a fever. We need to get you to the hospital. Are the babies here?”

She shook her head. “No, I dropped them off at Maddie’s earlier.”

“All right, I’ll see if she can keep them for the night. I doubt we’ll be back before then.”

“Shayne…” she barely managed to get out, and her head lolled to the side as I carried her to the car and buckled her in.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” She smiled, a tear rolling down her cheek.

I closed my eyes and paused for a moment, resting my hands on the roof of the car as I reeled in my emotions. “I love you too, baby.” Those five little words never held more truth than they did now, and yet, they felt so final, like a silent prayer that I knew would go unanswered.

It was clear our prayers had gone unanswered, and no more than a week later, that they brought in the chaplain to read Liberty her last rites. The pneumonia she’d contracted wasn’t responding to any of the medicine they were giving her, her body too weak and beaten down by the effects of the chemo. I sat by and held her hand as she continued to take slow, labored breaths, each one more difficult than the last. I had prepared for the worst all along, knowing the inevitable was near, but when it came down to it, nothing could prepare me for saying goodbye.

My heart was heavy, weighed down by the notion that the next words to come out of my mouth might very well be the last she’d ever hear.

“I love you.” I slipped her slender hand into mine, gently kissing each of her fingertips before placing it against my cheek. The wrinkles fanning next to her eyes let me know she was smiling, but when she reached up and tried to pull the oxygen mask away, I had to stop her.

“No, sweetheart. You don’t have to say anything. I just need you to listen, okay?” The wrinkles around her eyes returned, and she nodded her head as much as she could. “I. Love. You. I love you more today than all of the days we’ve spent together combined, and I will love you until all of my days are spent. I know you’re worried about leaving me, Liam, and Lillian.” My voice croaked, and I had to wipe the moisture coating my eyes. “But I want you to know that I will remind them every day what a kind, loving, amazing woman their mother was, and I will shower them with enough love for the two of us.”

I smiled down at her, my lips trembling as everything poured out of me. “All I ask is that you check in on us from time to time. Maybe send us a little sign to let us know you’re there. I’m sure the kids would love to know their momma is watching over them, along with the rest of the angels. Do y-you…” I choked on my tears, trying to get the words out. “Do you think you could do that for us, baby?”

She nodded again slowly, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears rolled down her cheeks, one after the other, and I leaned over to kiss them away. “I love you so much, so fucking much, and you will always have my heart. You, Liam and Lillian... You’ll always be here.” I gently took her hand and placed it over my heart, feeling her fingers laboriously try to hold on to me.

She’d endured more in just a few short months than most did in a lifetime, and I wanted her to know that she didn’t have to suffer any longer. It hurt so fucking bad to watch her go through this day after day, but as angry as I was about losing her, I was ready to let her go…ready to let her be at peace. The only thing that kept me from breaking down altogether was knowing that she wouldn’t be alone. I knew my mom and her brother would be waiting for her on the other side.

Waiting for my beautiful angel.

“Liam, slow down,” I called out to my son, who at three-years-old could already outrun most running backs. Lillian, on the other hand, was taking her time, skipping through the grass and picking dandelions as we walked through the cemetery. She came back to my side and tugged on my pinky finger, handing me the tiny bouquet of half-crushed flowers.

“Here, Daddy!”

“They’re beautiful, sweetheart. Who are they for?”

“For Mommy, but you can tell her they’re from you. I won’t be mad.”

I smiled down at my sweet little girl, always thinking of others before herself. “That’s very sweet of you, Lily. Why don’t you go catch up with your brother before he starts stealing flowers from the other nice people here.”

“Ok, Daddy, but we have to hurry up. She’s waiting for us!”

“I’ll be right there, baby girl.” I kneeled down and ran my hand down her hair, kissing the top of her head. God, she looked so much like her mother.

I slowly got to my feet, brushing the grass off of my knees, and as I watched my daughter run ahead of me, I was slammed with the memory of when I’d first visited this place almost six years ago. It wasn’t under the best circumstances, and I knew I was going out on a limb, but I was desperate to make things right, and I wasn’t about to let the woman I loved walk away from me…the woman I considered my life, my heart, and my home.

I approached the headstone that read “Austin James Davis,” and never in my life had I been more nervous than I was at that very moment. The man laying six feet beneath me was her brother, her best friend, the one who had always looked out for her. And even though he wasn’t here physically anymore, I couldn’t help picturing him standing before me with his arms crossed over his chest and staring me down, imagining all the ways he could tear me limb from limb…still protecting his little sister. Oddly enough, it brought a smile to my face.