Say the Word (42 page)

“You’re okay,” he whispered into my hair, his arms tightening around me. “You’re not hurt.”

I brought my arms up around him and pressed myself as close as possible. “I’m fine. Better now that you’re here.”

Bash kissed the top of my head and pulled out of our embrace, but wrapped one arm around my waist so our connection wasn’t entirely severed. He turned to look at Fae. “Thank you for taking care of her. She’s too stubborn for her own good.”

“Believe me, I know.” Fae grinned.

“I’m all packed,” I told Bash, nodding at the stack of luggage. “I’m crashing at Fae’s until this is over.”

“You’re crashing with me,” Bash countered.

I turned
startled eyes up to stare at his face. “What? Why?”

“First of all, because I want you there. Secondly, because you’ll be safer with me.” He glanced at Fae. “No offense to you, I’m sure you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. But my building has
24-hour security on site, plus an alarm system. Anyone who tries to reach Lux won’t even make it past the parking garage. And if they do, well, let’s just say I did more than take photos during those years in Iraq. Our men in arms taught me enough to handle myself, with or without my gun.”

My eyes went wide. “Does everyone I know carry a gun?”

“Probably,” Bash said, shrugging.

“Pretty much,” Fae agreed, grinning as she reached into her purse on the coffee table and pulled out the smallest handgun I’d ever seen in my life — it was barely bigger than my fist.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath.

“Time to go,” Bash said. “I’ll grab your suitcase and the tote, you grab the dress.”

I cast one final look around the apartment, sure I was forgetting something vital. When my eyes landed on the closet, I smacked myself on the forehead with an open palm. I couldn’t believe I’d almost left them behind.

“Wait,” I called, crossing the room and pulling open my closet door. I pulled down the Jamie Box first, followed by the lock box. Stacking them, I carried both back toward Bash and Fae, who were hovering by the doorway. “Now I’m ready.”

Bash stared at the boxes for a moment with a question in his eyes, but managed to contain his curiosity for the time being. We headed out into the hallway and, locking the front door behind me, I walked away from my apartment, unsure how long I’d be away from it. I felt sad as I loaded the car, hugged Fae goodbye, and climbed into Bash’s passenger seat but, looking over at the man sitting next to me, I knew everything would be okay in the end.

Jamie coughed violently. Huge, hacking coughs that wracked his entire body where he lay in the hospital bed. I rubbed his back in a soothing gesture, waiting for his heaving to subside.

“You okay?” I asked when he finally grew still.

“Water,” Jamie rasped, his throat dry.

I poured a glass and handed it to him, settling in on the bed beside his body. “Small sips. I don’t want you to choke.”

Jamie rolled his eyes at me. “Sure thing,
mom
.”

I laughed, but it was a weak, unconvincing sound. I couldn’t be happy — not seeing him like this. There were so many tubes in his frail body, I’d lost count. He was fighting off another bout of pneumonia, brought on by his rigorous treatment schedule.

Since moving away from Jackson, we’d had the best doctors and medical care and, at first, things seemed to get better. After the amputation of his left leg, Jamie recovered almost completely. He was practically in remission.

It didn’t last, though.

The cancer came back, metastasizing in his lymph nodes and lungs. He was labeled Stage IV, which, I knew, meant the odds of his survival dropped radically. The nodules appearing in his internal organs were, for the most part, totally inoperable. The chemotherapy drugs were no longer effective.

His doctors had predicted he’d live a year, at most.

He’d lived another three.

My brave, resilient twin had fought for his life — fought hard — these last few years. And though I’d stood by his side the whole time, this was one thing I couldn’t fix. One battle I couldn’t wage in his stead. I could only watch, helplessly, as he got sicker, weaker, thinner. As the life was gradually leached from his body.

“Come on, why don’t you try to eat something. Get your strength up,” I suggested, gesturing toward the tray of untouched hospital food that was slowly growing cold on his bedside table. “You have to eat if you’re going to get better, Jamie. You know that.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not eating?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. “Well, that’s just plain stubborn.”

“No,” Jamie said, shaking his head weakly. “I’m not getting better.”

I stilled, my breath catching in my throat.

Jamie smiled wanly. “Don’t look so shocked, light of my life. You had to know it would happen at some point.”

“James Arthur,” I snapped, fighting the tears that were rapidly filling my eyes. “Don’t you ever say anything like that to me again.”

“Lux,” he whispered, his expression grave. “I’m dy—”

“No!” I leapt to my feet beside his bed, tears streaming down my cheeks. “No you aren’t. This is just like last time. You’ve been sick before. You’ll get better again. Everything will be fine.”

Jamie’s eyes were closed and his head moved back and forth, rejecting my words with each shake.

“Don’t shake your head at me, Jamie!”

His eyes opened slowly and caught my gaze. “This isn’t like last time, sis. You know it; I know it.”

I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off.

“I’m dying,” he whispered, his words slicing into me like a knife to the heart. “And you know what? I’m not
angry anymore.” Jamie sat up straighter in his bed and stared at me with a resigned look in his eyes. “I was angry as hell for a long time. Angry at my diagnosis. Angry at you for being able to walk and run when I couldn’t. Angry at Mom and Dad for being so fucking weak. Angry at my goddamn self for ignoring that muscle cramp in my left leg for six months so I might get a shot at playing varsity football.”

My tears wouldn’t stop — as he spoke, they only dripped faster.

“I’m not angry anymore, Lux. I know that if a total stranger evaluated my life by what he could see my medical chart, he’d think I spent a miserable twenty-one years on this earth. But he’d be wrong. Cancer isn’t my life. My diagnosis isn’t my destiny.” Jamie smiled at me, courage in his eyes. “Sure, it’s played a part in who I am. But the significant things aren’t written in the doctors’ files. I mean, you’re the most important person in my life, and there’s not a single line about you in the whole James Arthur Kincaid folder.”

My lip began to tremble and a sob rattled in my chest. “Don’t you dare start being nice to me, Jamie,” I ordered in a shaky voice. “Then I’ll know you’re saying goodbye, and I’ll kill you myself. I swear it.”

He laughed, but it soon turned into a cough. I raced to his bedside and held his hand until the fit abated.

“I’m not saying goodbye,” he said. “Not yet. But I am saying this, while I still have the strength left…”

Jamie’s eyes met mine, and his gaze held no trace of his usual jesting.

“You are going to live a long, happy life without me,” he began, setting my tears off again. “You’re going to get old and fat, pop out a couple of babies — one of which better be named Jamie which, conveniently, is gender-neutral — and marry a guy you love so much it makes you dizzy. You’re going to be sad for a while. But, eventually, you’re going to find a way through this. Because you, light of my life, will someday find that person who’ll do for you what you’ve done for me all these years — put you first, no matter what.”

I was a sniveling, weeping mess.

“Come here, cry baby,” Jamie said, extending thin arms to offer an embrace. I readily accepted, leaning against his chest and wrapping careful arms around him. I wept for several minutes and Jamie was silent, the only sounds in the room those of my muffled cries against his hospital gown and the faint whirring of machines as they pumped life into my brother.

“I’m the one with cancer,” Jamie eventually huffed, teasing me even in his darkest hour. “I don’t know why
you’re
crying.”

I lifted red-rimmed eyes to meet his. “You’re terrible.”

“I know.” He grinned. “Promise me something?”

“Anything,” I whispered.

“Be selfish for a while. Think of yourself, instead of everyone else. Find a way to be happy again. Not for me, or for our parents, or for some guy. Be happy just for you. Do the things that give you joy, that put a smile on your face. And don’t let anyone else’s needs get in your way. You deserve to know what joy feels like, sis.”

“I’ll be happy if you promise not to leave me,” I murmured, my voice a hollow shell. “I can’t do this without you, Jamie.”

“You can, and you will.” His voice was solemn. “Because, if you don’t, I’ll make sure to haunt you from the great beyond.”

I glared at him.

“I mean it,” he scoffed. “If you spend your next few years wallowing in memories of all that you’ve lost, you’ll miss out on all the good things I want for you in this life. I know there’s darkness in this world, Lux. Shadows and grief and unimaginable pain. But there’s also love and light and laughter.” Jamie squeezed my hand as tight as he could, his waning strength making even that small gesture a great task.

“Don’t dwell in the darkness, sis. Live in the light.”

“Damn.” Simon let out a slow whistle. “This place is seriously awesome.”

“Prime real estate,” Fae added, pivoting in a slow circle to take in the entire space. I couldn’t argue — Sebastian’s loft was gorgeous. I’d only been here a few hours and had barely begun to settle in, but I couldn’t turn away my best friends when they showed up at Bash’s door with wine in hand, determined to make my day better.

When I’d first arrived this afternoon, Bash had insisted on making room
for me in his closet and dresser. I’d argued that I would only be here a short time — a few days, at most — but he’d just grinned indulgently in my direction before unzipping my suitcase and tossing a handful of bras and underwear into an empty drawer. The sly look on his face didn’t bode well for my plans to move back into my studio as soon as these abduction shenanigans were over, but I had no desire to argue with him after the day I’d had. With a sigh, I’d relented and unpacked my clothing into his space, ignoring the small part of my mind that wanted this move to be permanent.

I was clearly delusional or, at the very least, suffering from brain trauma after my brush with death this morning. That had to be it. Because it was in no way sane to move in with someone you’d started sleeping with yesterday.

Well, technically eight years ago. And then again yesterday.

It was all very confusing. I decided the mature, logical thing to do was put it out of my mind entirely.

So when Simon and Fae showed up at the door, I was more than happy for a distraction. Bash likely sensed that my friends wanted some private time with me to gossip about things he didn’t want to hear — such as his performance between the sheets — so he quickly made excuses about a conference call with a client and disappeared into the small office space abutting the main room.

Within minutes, Fae and Simon were totally relaxed on Sebastian’s sleek leather sectional, sipping wine and listening to my story about
Labyrinth
. Fae helped me fill Simon in on the meeting with Conor, her face twisting into a sneer as she talked about the FBI agent.

“Why do you two hate each other so much?” I asked. “What happened between you?”

“It’s a long story,” Fae muttered, sipping her wine.

“Is he good looking?” Simon asked.

Fae shook her head darkly. “Who cares what his face looks like?”

“Is that a yes?” Simon looked at me.

I nodded. “He’s gorgeous.”

“Ah, I see.” Simon’s lips twisted into a knowing smile. “Maybe some hate-sex is in order.”

“Excuse me?” Fae asked, turning to face him.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, sweetheart.” Simon grinned. “All that bottled up anger and aggression can be… explosive… under the right circumstances.”

“He’s right.” I sipped my wine, smiling privately as my mind filtered back over some of Bash and my first interactions during the past few weeks. “Love and hate — they’re two sides of the same coin.”

“Can we please talk about something important?” Fae asked. “Like the fact that Centennial is tomorrow night and Lux can no longer leave the apartment for the mani-pedi we booked her?”

I snorted. “Oh yeah. ‘Cause
that’s
important. I’m so glad you want to talk about truly vital issues, Fae.”

“Never fear,” Simon said, reaching into the bag he’d brought with him and pulling out a French manicure set. “I always come prepared.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t resist as he pulled my bare feet into his lap.

“I can’t believe Jeanine won’t let me out of going,” I complained. “You’d think an attempt on my life would be enough to convince her I can’t attend.”

Fae shrugged. “She’s British. They take attendance and punctuality very seriously.”

“You’re going with the boy toy?” Simon asked, applying a clear base coat to my toes.

“He helped me get into
Labyrinth
; now I owe him a date,” I explained, my voice regretful. “I just wish it were anywhere but at Centennial. All the cameras… I’ll probably end up on some trashy gossip site.”

“I can see the headlines now.” Simon smirked. “‘MYSTERY WOMAN SNAGS SEBASTIAN COVINGTON’ — you’ll be famous!”

I glared in his direction.

“You’re worried about the cameras?” Fae snorted. “What about Cara? She’s going to flip when she sees you with Sebastian.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” I moaned, feeling my apprehension build further. “She’ll probably scratch my eyes out in the ladies’ room.”

Fae laughed, an excited gleam in her eyes. “I’d like to see her try.”

“I’m beginning to think you have a fixation with danger,” I said, staring at her with concern.

“Adrenaline junkie,” Simon agreed, nodding as he applied a light coat of pale pink to my big toe.

“Whatever.” Fae shrugged. “I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a night to remember.”

“Good memories, I hope.” I looked at them, trying to ignore the feeling of foreboding that was chewing at the lining of my stomach.

“Don’t worry,” Simon said dismissively, gesturing toward my Cinderella dress where it hung on the closet door. “When you’re wearing a custom Simon Gilbert design, nothing can go wrong.”

By the time Simon and Fae left for the night, I’d been buffed, plucked, painted, and groomed within an inch of my life — I was more than ready for Centennial tomorrow night. They hugged me goodbye with promises of seeing me at the gala and threats to kill me if I didn’t wear my hair up the way they’d instructed. Apparently, if I didn’t force my locks into a perfect up-do, it would ruin the lines of Simon’s dress and be a grand-scale catastrophe.

I rolled my eyes and promised to replicate the hairdo to the best of my limited abilities.

As I closed the door behind them, I felt Bash press against my back and his arms slide around my waist. His chin came down to rest on my shoulder as I leaned back into him, and for a moment I simply closed my eyes and enjoyed the long-forgotten sensation of a casual embrace with the man I loved.

“Can I show you something?” I whispered, tilting my face back so his lips rested against my forehead.

“Of course,” he said, turning me in his arms. He cupped my face and kissed me lightly. I lost myself in his kiss for several moments, tightening my arms around him and immersing myself fully in the feeling of his lips on mine. When I pulled away, I knew my cheeks were flushed with both happiness and desire.

I twined my fingers through his and pulled him toward the closet, where I’d stored most of my things. Reaching inside, I pulled out the Jamie Box and walked back to the
couch with Sebastian close behind me. I set the wooden box lightly on the coffee table, absently tracing the carvings with my fingertips as I turned to look at Bash.

“This is the most important thing I own,” I told him, a smile tugging at my lips. “It’s from Jamie.”

Bash smiled involuntarily at the thought of my brother.

I slid the box in front of him on the table. “Open it.”

Bash lifted the lid, his eyes catching immediately on the embedded photograph of me and my twin. When his fingers moved to skim over the letters inside I felt my eyes begin to tingle, the heartache still fresh after three years.

“One hundred letters,” I explained. “All for different dates and occasions.”

“For the big moments in your life,” Bash said, flipping gently through the stack and reading the messages inscribed on the front of each envelope.

“For the small ones, too.”

I passed him my one of my favorites:

As he read, the smile on his face grew to a grin.

Light of My Life,

You’re moping. I get it — heartbreak sucks.

Well, I don’t
really
get it, because I’ve never been in love, per se. Not unless you’re counting my obsession with Sophia Vergara who, one of these days — you mark my words — will realize that the love of her life is a twenty-one year-old amputee in Georgia.

But you, my darling sister, have been in love. And afterward, your little heart was broken and I was forced to listen to John Mayer breakup songs for almost two years. (Our apartment walls are treacherously thin, for future reference.) Maybe even now, a few years down the road, you’re reading this letter because you’ve been reminded of that same heartbreak. Maybe you’ve experienced a fresh one. I don’t know, I’m not there. (Dead, remember?)

I do know one thing, though. You’re brave. It takes guts to give your heart to someone else, and trust that they’ll take care of it. And some day, you’ll find that someone who makes all the other someones in your life seem insignificant.

When that day comes, when you’re absolutely sure he’s the one you’re supposed to be with, give him the red envelope at the back of this box.

I may never have been in love, but I’ve witnessed more of it than most ever get to.

People think of hospitals as being full of only sickness and sadness — patients dying, relatives mourning. But they’re wrong. I’ve spent a good part of the last five years in and out of hospitals, first in Jackson and now here in Atlanta. Of course I’ve seen the grief and the illness and the death here. That’s all you’ll see on surface level. Look a little deeper, though, and those things are insignificant compared to the immense love that fills the walls of these buildings.

The baby wards, where new parents hold their little bundles close and plan out bright futures full of joy. The hopeful families who keep smiles on their faces in spite of the odds. The ones who’ve traveled around the world to hold the hand of a loved one who’s lying in a sickbed with a fate unknown.

That’s love. 

There are all kinds of love in this world, sis. Great loves and little loves. The fleeting ones, and the ones that last a lifetime. I might be dead, and you might be a crazy person fueled by far too much estrogen, but I love you more than anything.

Well, actually, that’s a little dramatic… Maybe not more than anything. But more than most things. More than Cadbury chocolate bars and all of my favorite sports teams.
More than
Sophia Vergara
those really great popsicles they give out during chemo sessions.

Keep your chi
n up. Things will get better. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or even this year — but someday.

You’ll find that great love again.

Until then, know that I love you.

Jamie

Bash looked over at me with a film of tears in his eyes. “I miss him,” he said, his voice rough.

I nodded. “Me too. Every day.”

He slipped his hand into mine and squeezed lightly.

“He wrote 100 letters.” I stared at the box. “But only 99 of them are for me.”

Bash’s grip tightened on mine, his eyes following my free hand as I reached toward the back of the box and pulled out a bright red, sealed envelope. The script on the front was simple, two short words that held so much significance.

With trembling fingers, I passed the envelope to Bash and looked up to meet his eyes. “There’s no one else I would ever give this letter to,” I whispered. “I’ve never even been tempted. It felt like…” I took a deep breath. “Well, like Jamie would’ve wanted you to have it, more than anyone else.”

Bash
inhaled sharply. His fingers gripped the red envelope tightly and his gaze was riveted on my face as I continued to speak.

“Jamie told me to wait until I was absolutely certain that I’d found the one I’m supposed to be with in this life. But I think he knew, all along, that the person I was supposed to be with was you.” I leaned in and brushed my lips against Bash’s. Pulling back slightly, I stared into his eyes. “I’ll be honest — I didn’t fall in love with you again during these last few weeks,” I told him.

His brows rose and he opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

“Because I never fell out of love in the first place,” I whispered, reaching up to cup his jaw with one hand. “You had my heart for all these years — you still have it, Bash.”

He pushed a lock of hair behind my ear and pulled me close. “About time you admitted it,” he whispered, his smiling lips pressed against my ear.

“I’m sorry it took me so long.” I looked into his eyes, my own smile spreading across my face. “I love you. I never stopped.”

He kissed me then, and it was as if, for a few moments, my world ceased to turn, my heart stopped its beating, and everything just…
froze
. I knew it was one of those perfect moments I’d remember for the rest of my life.

A flashbulb memory, capturing the exact point in time that the past fell away and my future with Bash began.

When we broke apart, Bash opened Jamie’s envelope with reverence, taking extra care not to tear the paper. He pulled out a single sheet from inside, and his eyes scanned it for several minutes. I watched his face as he read the document through once, then a second time, his eyes narrowing as they poured over each line.