Spencer Cohen Series, Book Three (The Spencer Cohen Series 3) (10 page)

“If you could, please just text her and tell her I’ll be home in…” I looked at Andrew. “I don’t even know what hospital I’m in.”

He rubbed my leg and thankfully had swallowed his food. “Tell Lola he’ll be home within the hour.”

“Thank you,” I said, leaning back on the bed.

“You look tired,” he said softly.

“I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“How about you get dressed, and as soon as the paperwork’s done, I’ll take you home.”

I nodded. “Sounds great.” Then I remembered something. “Hey, isn’t it Monday? Shouldn’t you be going to work?”

“I can take some leave. I have plenty.”

As much as I didn’t want him to miss work on my behalf, the idea of spending the day in bed with him was too good to pass up. I finished my pastry, some Danish type thing, and walked to the bathroom. Grateful to be unhooked from the IV line and holding the back of my robe, of course.

I grabbed a quick shower and dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday. I was feeling a little better when I walked back out. A nurse was waiting, none-too patiently, for me to fill out paperwork. I read through the forms, and the nurse made some comment about young people being inadequately insured, to which I replied, “Australian and American medical and hospital insurances are so very different, and getting proper insurance was one of the first things I did when I got here. I’d heard horror stories of people paying crazy amounts of money for emergency care because they weren’t insured. I figured, knowing my luck, I’d have a reaction and die in a waiting room.” I signed and handed the clipboard back to the nurse.

She looked over the paperwork. “You don’t have a next of kin listed.”

I put the pen down. It took me a little while to answer. “No.”

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, but it was Andrew who cleared his throat and took a protective step closer to me. “Okay, we can go now?” He put his hand on the small of my back. “You ready?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Thankfully, Allan had driven Andrew’s car to the hospital, as he’d left it at his parents’ house when I’d suddenly decided to try and die yesterday. With more goodbyes and twenty more thank yous to his family, Andrew and I both got hugs before we were allowed to leave.

I slid into the passenger seat, feeling every hour of sleep I’d missed. Andrew put his hand on my knee. “You need to sleep.”

I couldn’t even argue. I let my head fall onto the headrest and closed my eyes. “Mmhmm. Wanna join me?”

“To sleep, yes,” he said, navigating out of the car park. “I’m pretty sure the doctor said no physical exertion for two days.”

I didn’t open my eyes. “That’s okay. I’ll just lie there. You can do all the work.”

He chuckled but he didn’t agree. He was quiet for the rest of the drive back to my place, in what I assumed was an attempt to let me rest. When we parked at the back of the shop, I trudged up the stairs and Andrew opened my door. I knew Lola and probably everyone else would be coming up at some point, and I had no idea if Andrew needed to go anywhere, but I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my shirt, then walked over to my kitchen drawer. I pulled out my spare key and walked sleepily over to Andrew.

I still hadn’t acknowledged the fact he’d told me he loved me. I wasn’t sure I could. So instead I held out my hand. “I want you to have this.”

Andrew’s gaze shot to mine.

“If you need to leave and come back,” I told him. “And if I’m still asleep.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t hide the hurt on his face.

I grabbed his shirt to keep him right where he was. “No. Not just that. I know what it means, and I know it’s a huge step. It’s more than a toothbrush, and I’m okay with that. I’m giving you a key to my place so you can come by any time. You don’t need to ask. I will never say no.” I slow-blinked. “I want you to have it.”

“Spencer,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

I leaned in and kissed him. “You’re welcome.”

“God, you can hardly keep your eyes open,” he mumbled, taking my hand and leading me to my room. “Into bed with you.”

I undid my pants and pulled them down, getting into bed wearing just my boxer briefs. Andrew pulled the blankets up over me then picked up my pants. He put my wallet on the bedside table and put my phone on charge, like he was trying to distract himself and keep himself busy.

“Thank you,” I said, sounding tired to my own ears. I patted the bed. “Sit for a sec.”

He hesitated but did as I asked. “What’s up?”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It um, couldn’t have been too pleasant to watch me have that allergic reaction.”

He let out a laugh that didn’t sound too happy. “You almost died, Spencer. You stopped breathing. And no one explained to me that once we injected an EpiPen into you, that you’d shake like that.”

I groaned. “I’m sorry. It must have been horrible.”

“It was,” Andrew replied quietly. He looked right at me. “But it wasn’t your fault, so don’t apologise.”

“I’m still sorry. I wish you didn’t have to see that. The shaking is a side-effect, or so I’m told. Not everyone does that. I didn’t know I did, sorry.”

He nodded and gave me a sad smile; his eyes shone with tears. “I was so scared.”

I grabbed his hand. “Hey. Lie down here.” I pulled him down and close so he was the little spoon and wrapped my arm around him. “I’m here.”

He relaxed into me and pulled my arm tighter around him. Just when I couldn’t fight sleep a second longer, I heard him whisper, “I’m here too.”

* * * *

I woke up to the sound of Janis Joplin singing about me and Bobby McGee. The curtains were drawn in my room so I had no idea what time it was, but I was alone. I heard voices—Andrew, Emilio, and Lola—coming from the lounge room, so I rolled out of bed, pulled on some shorts, grabbed my phone, and went out there.

“Hey, here he is,” Emilio said, standing up to greet me. “How you feeling, man?”

“Still a bit tired. What time is it?” I asked, as I checked my phone. It was lunch time. No wonder I was hungry.

Lola hugged me and patted me all over. “You okay? Need me to grab you something.”

“I feel okay. Hungry, but if you could hold the shellfish, that’d be great.” There was a beat of silence. “What? Too soon?”

Andrew smirked. “Not funny.”

I fell into the lounge next to Andrew and slid against him, leaning on his chest. I pulled his arm over my shoulder and sighed. “It was kinda funny.”

Lola was in the kitchen. “Want a sandwich, Spence?”

“I would love one.”

“I’ll help,” I said, trying to get up.

“No, I will,” Andrew said, shuffling me off him and standing up.

“You’ll help?” I asked. “Cooking?”

He turned back to face me. “Making sandwiches isn’t cooking, smartass.”

Emilio laughed, which made me look at him. “Not busy today?”

“Got a client at two. Thought I’d come up and see how you were getting on. Andrew said you weren’t in real good shape last night.”

I sighed. “Yeah. It wasn’t good. I was lucky he was there, and his parents.”

“You got more of those EpiPens?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I still got the one in the reception drawer,” he said. “I checked after Lola told us. She has one in her car, in her bag. You give Andrew some for his place?”

“I will.”

He put on his I’m-being-serious face. “I mean it.”

His protectiveness was a sure sign of how much he cared. I gave him a smile. “I know. And thanks.”

I turned my phone on and got a buzzing reward of a dozen messages and missed calls.

“Come get it,” Lola called out from the kitchen.

I hauled my tired arse off the sofa and stood up as I began to scroll through the missed calls, when one in particular caught my eye. It wasn’t just one call, it was three. The international dial code was 612…

Australia.

“Spencer, what is it?” Andrew stood in front of me, holding a plate with a sandwich on it. I hadn’t realised I’d stopped walking.

I blinked a few times and cleared my throat. “I have some missed calls from home. I mean, Australia.”

Andrew looked to my phone, then back to my eyes. “Is there a message?”

I thumbed to my voicemail. By this time, Emilio and Lola were standing, watching me. I hit the message and put it on speaker. “Hello Spencer. This is Terrence Ascot from Barkley Solomons. Please call me back at this number.”

My heart was beating erratically against my ribs. “Well, this can’t be good,” I mumbled. I checked my watch. Just after one in the afternoon here meant just after eight in the morning over there. I cleared my throat so I could somehow manage to speak. “Terrence is my solicitor.”

Knowing Terrence worked early till late, I hit Call. After a few rings, a woman answered. “Good morning, Barkley Solomons, Terrence Ascot’s office.”

I took a deep breath and looked right at Andrew when I said, “Spencer Cohen, returning Terrence Ascot’s call.”

She put me on hold to transfer the call, but when he answered, I clicked off speaker and put the phone to my ear. I didn’t want everyone to hear this. I would tell them, of course, but only after I’d processed the information.

“Sorry I missed your calls,” I said. “I had a bit of an emergency yesterday.”

“Everything okay?”

Oh, sure. Just nearly died. Nothing major
. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

There was a beat of silence before I heard him take a deep breath like he was steeling himself to give bad news. I knew then it wasn’t good. Solicitors didn’t struggle for words unless the news they were to deliver was difficult to say.

I figured I’d save him the trouble. “Last time we spoke it was to inform me of the death of my Aunt. Don’t suppose you charge more to tell me good news?”

There was a quiet sigh. “Unfortunately, Spencer, this is not good news either. I’ve been contacted by a Mr Lewis Cohen.”

“Oh.” Lewis was my brother. This was not what I expected. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but that God-awful hope ballooned in my chest without my permission.

“Yes,” my lawyer said. “He asked me to forward on some rather unpleasant news.”

I waited.

“Archer Cohen, your youngest brother, passed away.”

The expanded balloon in my chest burst, taking the air from my lungs with it. I unsteadily sat on my sofa, and Andrew sat beside me. He took my hand and tethered me to that moment. That simple touch, a tangible lifeline, when I felt like drowning. “What?”

“He took his own life. I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you. Lewis contacted my office, unbeknownst to your father. He asked, if you’re agreeable, that I forward his contact details on to you. He wishes to speak with you. I can email the information to you if you’d prefer.”

“Yes,” I whispered in return. I wasn’t capable of doing anything more. My head was foggy, and my vision started to blur.

“Spencer,” he continued softly, “for what it’s worth, he was very genuine. His reply when I asked him why I should cause you any more grief than necessary was, and I quote, ‘Spencer is all the family I have left.’”

I didn’t hear what he said after that.

Andrew took the phone from me and slid it onto the side table. He took both my hands in his. “Spencer, what is it?”

I don’t know how I even spoke. “My brother died… He committed suicide.”

No one said a word, except Bill Withers started to sing “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Lola walked over to the record player and quietly lifted the tonearm, and Andrew squeezed my hand.

I went kinda numb after that.

I spent the next however long curled up in my papasan chair, staring into space. Emilio, Lola, and Andrew were whispering in the kitchen, and I couldn’t bring myself to listen or care.

After a while, Emilio came over and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be back up later. Okay, my friend? If you need anything, I’m just downstairs, okay?”

I managed to nod.

Then Lola kissed the top of my head and hugged me. “I’ll be back in a little while too, ’kay Spence? I just need to go make some arrangements for tomorrow. I’ll bring some dinner back with me, okay?”

The haze in my mind shifted. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

Lola looked so damn sad. “I have a four hour photoshoot tomorrow. I’ll see if I can get Angelica to cover it for me.”

I wasn’t following. “Why?”

“So I can be here with you.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine, Lola. I’ll be fine. Just stop by afterwards.”

“Honey, it’s no big deal. I want to be here with you.”

“Thank you, but honestly, I’ll be fine. I am fine. And Emilio,” I said, finally looking at him. “No need to come check on me. I’ll come down later, I just need some time, if that’s okay?”

Lola and Emilio looked at each other, then at Andrew, then at me. “You sure?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah. I appreciate it, though. More than you know. I just need some space to get my thoughts in order, ya know?”

They both nodded silently, and Lola lightly touched Andrew’s arm as they walked out. I’d probably need to apologise to them both tomorrow, but for now, I really just needed silence.

I got up and went into the kitchen. The sandwich they’d made for me sat untouched on the counter. I considered eating it, but when I went to pick it up, my stomach rolled.

“You okay?” Andrew asked gently.

I nodded again, still staring at the chicken and mayo sandwich. “I feel like a Vegemite sandwich,” I whispered. “I haven’t had one since we were kids.”

Andrew put his hand on my back. “Did you want to talk about him?”

I shook my head. “Not right now.”

He dropped his hand. “Okay.”

When I looked at him, he was biting his lip. He looked worried and sad. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay.” But that wasn’t it. He wouldn’t hold eye contact. “What’s really wrong?”

“Did you want me to go?”

What?
“No.”

“You said you needed time and space, and if you don’t want Emilio or Lola here, then I can only assume you certainly don’t want me here either. You can tell me, you know. I’ll understand.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want you to go.” Jesus, it was the last thing I wanted.

“What do you need?” he asked me softly.

I sighed and pushed the sandwich away. “Not that.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Are you hungry?”

“No.”

He looked stung and lost for what to say.

“Sorry,” I whispered. I hung my head and took a deep breath. He stayed where he was, a very obvious distance between us. “I don’t know what I need right now.”

“Lola and Emilio just want to help you,” he said softly. “Don’t push them away.”

“I know that.” I turned to face him then, and he looked about ready to leave.

He nodded, and I swear he took a small step backwards. “Okay.”

“Why are you leaving?”

“I’m not.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Andrew, please. I don’t have the energy for games right now. If there’s something wrong, please just tell me.”

“I’m trying not to say the wrong things,” he whispered to the ground between us. “I always say the wrong things, especially at the wrong time. I tend to ruin things, even the best things. Like before…”

“Like before, when?”

“In the hospital.” He quickly shook his head. “Look, this isn’t the time for this conversation. Because this is not about me. You’ve had the worst two days, and you’re dealing with so much right now, I can’t even imagine.”

In the hospital
. He told me he loved me, and I haven’t mentioned it.

“Now’s the very right time. Considering everything—me almost dying, my brother…” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Considering that, now is the best time.”

“I’m waiting for you to push me away.”

“What?”

“I figured what I told you in the hospital… and now the news of your brother. I don’t know. I’m waiting for you to feel too overwhelmed.” He shrugged. “But me telling you that I love you is true. I do. I won’t apologise for saying it. And maybe now is the very time you need to hear it.”

I closed my eyes and nodded.

Andrew’s voice cracked when he continued, “I tried not to expect you to say it back to me, but I guess I did, and that’s not fair on you. Especially now. ”

I tried to calm my hammering heart. “No.”

Andrew frowned. “Oh.”

I could barely speak. “No.” He tried to take a step backwards but my hand was fisted in his shirt. “No. Wait. Please.”

He lifted my face so I looked at him. “Spencer, I don’t know what you need.”

“Andrew, I need you. That’s all. Yes, I need time and I need space but
not
from you. I need you to be here with me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with anything right now, but I can’t do any of it without you.” I took a shaky breath. “I can’t… I can’t say
that
. What you want me to say. I wish I could. But I’m not ready.” Andrew tried to pull away, but I still had hold of his shirt. “Just because I can’t say it doesn’t mean it’s not true. Because what you said to me in the hospital,” I whispered, “means everything.”

Andrew took my face in his hands. “You mean that?”

I barely nodded. My voice cracked when I said, “Please don’t leave me.”

He kissed me so tenderly, then held me so tight. I wanted to crawl inside him, I wanted him to never let me go. He held me in such a way that I could feel him healing the hurt inside me. I was so confused, lost and heartbroken. He kissed the side of my head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For the longest time, neither of us spoke. We just stood there, holding and deep breathing, and soul-mending. With a deep breath, I mumbled into his neck, “My solicitor said Lewis contacted him and asked him to get in touch with me. He said I was the only family he had left.”

Andrew pulled back and put his hand to my face. “Does he want to talk with you?”

“I don’t know. I think so. My solicitor was going to email me his contact details.”

He spoke like I was made from glass. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

I blinked back tears, like I’d been torn wide open. “What if… what if he just shuts me out again? What if he decides that our father was right and that he regrets speaking to me? Andrew, I can’t go through that again.”

Andrew put both hands to my face and ran his thumbs over my cheeks, as though I was the most precious thing in his world. “I’ll talk to him first. I’ll see what he has to say; then you can decide if you speak to him, not the other way around. If you want, that is.”

I nodded. “I want to speak to him. But I’m scared.”

Andrew pulled me back against him, one arm around my back, one hand in my hair. “I’ll be with you.”

“Thank you.”

He led me back to the sofa, where he proceeded to lie down and pull me with him so I was the little spoon. I felt safe and loved and utterly exhausted. He kissed the back of my head, and I closed my eyes, somehow falling asleep.

I dreamed of an Australian summer and a holiday at the beach. But the sky became clouded and the wind turned cold. I was running on the beach and a sixteen year old me searched for a twelve year old Archie, and no matter how hard I looked, no matter how much I called and screamed his name, he was lost.

* * * *

Andrew was my safety net. He never said anything when I stared into space; he never questioned me when I woke up frantic and upset. He was just there, so I knew I wasn’t alone—so I
wasn’t
alone. With a gentle touch when I craved it, a reassuring smile when I needed it, he was ever-present without being overbearing. He was my two feet on solid ground when I felt like I was in quicksand.

He took the phone number my solicitor had given me and made the call to Lewis. I sat in my papasan chair with my knees drawn up, wishing I was strong enough to make this call myself.

But the truth was, I wasn’t.

“Hello, is this Lewis Cohen? … My name is Andrew Landon, I’m calling from America. Do you have a moment to talk? … I’m Spencer’s boyfriend. … Yes, that’s right. He spoke to his solicitor this morning.”

I couldn’t hear what Lewis was saying, and I chewed my thumbnail half wishing I could hear every word, half glad I couldn’t.

“You have to understand why he’s hesitant. … Yes, I guess I am. I wanted to see if you were genuine. … Yes, I know. … Okay, I’ll check with him. Give me one sec. … No, he’s right here.” Andrew put the phone against his chest and gave me a sad, sad smile. “He wants to talk to you. Is that okay?”

“Is he…?”

Andrew’s voice was a whisper. “He’s crying. I think you should talk to him.”

Oh God
. I took the phone and swallowed down the lump in my throat. “Lewis?”

My brother’s voice was just as I remembered, like I hadn’t been gone a day. “Spencer?” He sobbed into the phone. “My God, I’ve missed you so much.”

I burst into tears, and Andrew held my hand.

* * * *

I spoke to Lewis for about an hour. Our conversation ranged from Archie’s funeral two days ago to the time the three of us rode our bikes to Bronte Beach and nine-year-old Archie couldn’t ride back up the hill. Man, we got our arses kicked for thinking he could keep up with us. And that time when I was fourteen, Lewis and I made Archie watch Stephen King’s
It
the night before we were supposed to be going to the circus.

Yeah, we got in trouble for that too.

I told Lewis about the time a three-year-old Archie pulled the tape out of all the cassettes I’d gotten for my seventh birthday. I’d bugged our mother to the point of breaking for the Backstreet Boys, and Archie pulled its insides out with his Vegemite covered hands the day after I got it. Lewis laughed and laughed. “I’d forgotten that!” Then he sighed. “He still ate Vegemite sandwiches.” I could tell he was fighting tears again. “Fuck, Spencer. Everything’s such a mess.”

“I know.”

“I never saw it coming. I never thought for one minute he’d do himself in. I swear it. I talked to him just the day before, and he seemed okay.” He was crying again. “He left a note, Spencer. Fucking hell.”

“What did it say?”

“Oh man, I…” He sobbed. “I can’t…”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “Was it about me?”

“No. Not directly.” It sounded like he shook his head and ground out a frustrated sound. “I’m so sick of crying. Spencer, can I see you? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need to see you.”

“You want me to come to Australia?” I asked Lewis, and Andrew’s gaze shot to mine.

“Just to visit, if you can,” Lewis answered quickly. It sounded like he rubbed his free hand over his face. “I don’t think I can leave Mum and Dad right now, even though…”

“Even though, what?”

“Even though I don’t want to be here. Spencer, I won’t tell them you’re here. They won’t know. I’ll pay for your ticket.”

“I’ll think about it,” I told him. “I just, I just never thought I’d go back there, Lewy. I don’t know if I can.”

He sniffed into the phone. “Yeah. I get that. I’m sorry for asking. But I would really like to see you. Maybe in a couple of months I could fly over there? It’s just that…”

There was something he wasn’t telling me.

“What is it Lewis? What won’t you tell me?”

“I hate them,” he spat out angrily. “I fucking hate them. They tore our family apart. They kicked you out and drove Archie to the point where he couldn’t see any way out.” He was crying again, a mix of anger and frustration. “They’ve taken everything away from me.”

“Well, I’m back now,” I offered lamely. “We’re talking, huh?”

“Yeah. Think it over. Please.”

“Okay.”

“Can I call you? In a day or something?”

“Of course. Whenever you need.”

We said our goodbyes and ended the call. I threw my phone onto the coffee table, leaned back in the sofa, and sighed.

Andrew was sitting beside me again. “You okay?”

I looked at him. “I am.” I smiled wearily. “I actually feel better.”

“He wants you to go to Sydney?”

I nodded. “He wants to see me. He’s a bit of a mess.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“It’s good though, right? Talking to him?”