Unforgettable: Always 2 (13 page)

I smiled, a wobbly smile of gratitude my cousin had no hope of seeing. “Do my laundry?” I joked, needing to crack the suffocating tension. “I left a pile of it behind. It’s going to be stinking up the place by the time I get back.”

Caden laughed. It was the most gentle, un-Caden laugh I’d ever heard. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, dude. How bout I – whup, here’s your mum back.”

“Brendon, we’re flying over,” she said, brisk and businesslike. I don’t know what she’d said to Dad, but I couldn’t hear him in the background. “Your father will take some time off, I’ll call work in the—”

“No, Mum,” I cut her off. “It’s okay. I’m okay. We’ll be okay here. I’m just waiting to get the word I’m a match, and the doc will perform the transplant. I didn’t ring to upset you. Just thought I should let you know where I was.”

“I don’t mean to pull the medical-slash-nurse card on you, honey, but you know the chances of you being a match are—”

“Mum, I gotta go,” I said. I couldn’t have this argument with her. I’d barely handled having it with myself. “I’ll ring again when I know more, okay.”

For the third time, silence stretched over the connection, and then Mum said, “Okay.”

A knot released in my chest. I closed my eyes and pictured her again. “I love you, Mum,” I said finally. “Tell Dad he’s not too bad either.”

There were tears in her laughter as she hung up. I was very aware she’d brought the conversation to an end before it got too maudlin or sappy. As I said – or maybe I didn’t, but I should have – she’s incredible. They both were. It was an honor to be their son.

Glancing at the time on my phone, I contemplated calling Maci. It would be nice to hear her voice again, and despite the fact Raph and I hadn’t always seen eye to eye, or let’s face it, got along – I did almost break his jaw once, after all – I could handle sitting down with another Aussie guy and having a beer. It wasn’t my normal routine, but there was nothing
normal
or
routine
about my life at the moment. Hell, I hadn’t exercised since I’d left Australia.

My thumb hovered over Maci’s number. And then chirped with a new message from Amanda.

If you change your mind, this is my address.

I studied it, imagined being back there in the apartment with her. Instead of here in a park. Alone. Gritting my teeth, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and stood. Meditation hadn’t worked. Talking to Mum – and Caden – had only choked me up to the point where I felt homesick. What I needed right now
was
something from my normal routine.

Tossing my cold coffee into the closest rubbish bin, I checked out the surrounding area with a sweeping gaze, noted where the sun sat low in the afternoon sky, and began to run.

Exercise was a vital part of my life, you may have already noticed. In my opinion, it’s the foundation for life. A strong foundation can handle a lot of weight on top of it, without stress or cracking.

I’ve got to say though, I’d never been
this
close to cracking. A strong body is a strong mind as the saying goes, but hairline cracks were beginning to undermine my strength. I needed to work on my foundation before I could load more onto it, and with what was to come for me and Tanner and Amanda … well, a strong foundation would be more than vital. It was crucial.

Fixing my gaze on the western horizon, I pounded the pavement. Jogging wasn’t my favorite cardio activity, but it got the job done. I headed west, the sinking sun my target, and listened to my breathing. Listened to my heart. No thinking. Just existing. No controlling of emotions, just pushing my body to a level beyond comfort. A cleansing of my mind, spirit and energy.

I don’t know how long I’d been running when my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I stopped straight away and yanked it out. I looked at the screen. My heart thumped in my ears, a frantic beat that had nothing to do with my impromptu run.

“Damn it,” I muttered, finding a message and smiley face emoji from Heather. Heather. Not Parker Waters.

Hey, Biceps. Just letting you know No Direction is alive and well. He tried to escape yesterday evening, but I caught him just as he was flipping across your living room, dragging a suitcase behind him. That’s one strong fish you have there. I promised him if he stayed put until you got home I’d take him to Luna Park as a reward. Hope all is well in the States. Remember, if Amanda breaks your heart again, I’ll break her nose. Kidding. But I’ll glare at her fiercely. Yeah, I’m that tough. Xoxoxo Heather.

As much as the message made me smile – and miss her, damn it – it twisted my stomach into knots. Why hadn’t I heard from Parker yet? Was there a problem with my blood sample? Should I head back to the hospital, maybe get them to do it again?

Maybe my phone wasn’t working? Sure I’d received texts and made a call since putting in the new SIM, but what if no one could call
me
? What would Parker do then?

“Jesus, Osmond,” I muttered, shaking my head and shoving my phone back into my pocket. “You need to get a grip.”

I started running again, still heading west. I hit the Pacific Ocean an hour later. Stopping at a metal railing, with a stretch of beach between me and the water, and a tourist trap complete with a rollercoaster and boardwalk shops behind me, I stared at the ocean. Sweat dripped from my face and stung my eyes. My chest heaved, each breath I pulled into my lungs tasting of sea salt and seaweed. Pressing my palms to my knees, I focused on returning my heart rate and breathing to normal. Focused on the sensation of air entering my body, and leaving it. Inhalation. Exhalation. Take it in. Let it go.

Let it go. Was it time to let Amanda go? Or time to take her in again? She’d torn me apart, but was I ready to let her remake me? Did I have that in me? Could I even be put back together? For Tanner’s sake, should I? Didn’t a kid deserve a stable family environment? Could Amanda and I be that for him? Or had she hurt me too much?

Huh. Too much. Here I was, a guy who prided himself on never backing down from the challenges life presented him, and I was contemplating emotional defeat? Was I really so weak as to condemn Tanner to a life without both his parents in it? Was I that pathetic?

Or was I just that scared? Scared of how much I’d loved her once, and how easy it would be for me to love her with equal passion, equal measure, again. That kind of love left a guy vulnerable. Being vulnerable sucked.

But was it worth it, to see Tanner smile? To see Amanda smile? Shit, was it worth it to smile myself?

Before I’d learned Tanner had leukemia, I’d been prepared to ask Amanda to marry me. I’d imagined a life with the three of us in blissful joy, a family. We could still be that, couldn’t we? We could do that. We could start right now. And after the bone marrow transplant, when the stem cells from
my
marrow replaced the cancer cells in Tanner’s, we could show life just how strong we were.

I just had to let go of what I couldn’t control and accept that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and that light would shine on our family, give it strength, give it warmth, and eventually, I’d have the strength to allow myself to surrender to my feelings for Amanda again.

We could do that. It wasn’t just optimism. I felt it. In my gut. In my soul. We could do that.

Straightening, I pulled in a deep, slow breath, preparing to turn around and run back the way I’d come. Back to the hospital. Back to Tanner and Amanda.

No, shit. Amanda said she was going home. To her apartment. What was her address again? I’d have to catch a taxi. Swiping at a bead of sweat assaulting my eye, I tugged my phone from my pocket and opened Amanda’s text message conversation.

And froze when the Incoming Call screen appeared.

I stared at the number. One of only three I knew in the States. Parker Waters’ number. The same number printed on his business card.

A prickling heat razed over my body. My skin turned to gooseflesh. My heart slammed into my throat. Mouth dry, I pressed my thumb to the Accept button and raised the phone to my ear.

“G’day, doc.”

“Brendon.” His Southern drawl sounded all the more pronounced over the phone. “Where are you now?”

The tension and unease I’d just jogged out of my system claimed me again at his blunt question, and at the lack of the playful humor in his voice that I’d come to expect. Frowning, I looked around me. “Next to a beach,” I answered, suddenly feeling very heavy. Weighted. “And there’s a rollercoaster behind me. Why? Do you have the results? Do you need me back ASAP to begin the transplant? I jogged here, but I’d be able to get a taxi easy enough.”

I was talking fast, not coming up for air or letting Parker get a word in. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want him to say anything.

“Or,” I went on, my eyes flicking over the water beyond the sand, water so blue it hurt to look at. The kind of water Brendon Osmond back home would throw himself into with joyous glee. “I’m sure Amanda will come fetch me if I call her. We shouldn’t be long. Maybe an hour max. You could tell whoever’s going to be doing the surgery – is it surgery? To extract my bone marrow? – anyway, you could probably tell them to start getting ready because we’ll be there soon and everything will be—”

“Brendon,” Parker cut in.

I squeezed my eyes shut at the gentle placation in his voice. I knew why it was there. I knew. I knew and I didn’t want it to fucking be there. I didn’t want—

“You need to come back to the hospital,” Parker said, calm compassion in the words. “We need to talk. You and Amanda. We need to discuss—”

“I’m not a match,” I said, staring at the waves again. At the beautiful blue sky. At the incredibly beautiful day. “Am I?”

Silence filled the connection. To be honest, I think I’d had my fill of silent stretches for one day.

“Am I?” I repeated.

“No,” Parker answered with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Brendon. But you’re not.”

“Does Amanda know?”

Parker hesitated again.

“Have you told her, doc?”

“No.”

The heavy weight crushing me to the ground grew heavier. I leaned against the metal rail, for a moment incapable of supporting myself. Around me, people continued to go on as if nothing was wrong in the world – laughing, smiling, enjoying life. In the distance, the rollercoaster screamed down its main drop, the passengers wailing with delight. I gripped my phone and stared at the structure, the rises and falls and abrupt turns …

“Is she at the hospital?” I asked Parker. The afternoon sun beat down on me, drying the sweat on my skin until I felt like I was wrapped in taut plastic.

“I was in Tanner’s room five minutes ago,” he answered, his tone apologetic, “and she wasn’t there. Her sister was. She and Tanner were playing Transformers. Chase does a very good Megatron.”

A weak chuckle escaped from me. Nothing like any sound I’d made before.

“Chase told me she sent Amanda back to her apartment,” Parker went on. “To get some rest, eat some food that wasn’t from the hospital cafeteria.”

“Okay.” I pushed myself from the rail, the ocean to my back, and began walking. “Thanks, doc.”

“He’s a fighter, Brendon,” Parker said, the apology in his voice replaced with determination. “One of the toughest kids I’ve met. We
will
find a match. I promise.”

I nodded. A strange sense of being detached from everything rolled through me. “I have to go.”

“I’m calling Amanda now. Normally I’d ask her to come into the hospital for this kind of news, but if you’re going where I think you’re going—”

“I am.” Yes, I was going to Amanda’s place. I wanted to be there for her. To give her my strength … if she wanted it. The reason she’d called me, the reason she’d wanted me here was to save our son. To be a bone marrow match. And I wasn’t a match. I couldn’t save him.

I stopped walking. Crippled by the cruel blow life had delivered. I couldn’t save our son. What was the point of me, if I couldn’t save our—

“Brendon?” Parker’s sharp voice sounded in my ear. “Come on, dude. You’re stronger than this. I know you are. I wouldn’t have told you over the phone if I didn’t know that.”

I made some kind of noise. I don’t know what it was, or what it was trying to say. What was my fucking reason for being if I couldn’t save Tanner?

“Brendon, do me a favor,” Parker said. “Right now, standing out there on the sidewalk, do me a solid, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“Take whatever hand isn’t holding the phone and put it on your shoulder. Are you doing that?”

I blinked.

“C’mon, dude, put your hand on your shoulder for me,” Parker ordered.

I did as he asked, reaching up with my left hand to cup my bunched deltoid. It was hard and hot beneath my palm. Dense. How many shoulder presses and delt raises had I done in my life to get it that way? How many days of carb denial when all I was hanging for was a loaf of Vegemite-on-toast? How many protein shakes that tasted like chalk? How many reps of military presses until I couldn’t lift the weight any more?

“Are you doing it?” Parker repeated, a soft steel in his voice.

“I am,” I answered.

“Those shoulders of yours are the biggest shoulders I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said. “And I’d bet my year’s salary – and that’s a lot, Brendon, a lot – they’re the strongest. Definitely strong enough for two people. Strong enough for three. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I swallowed, holding my deltoid. I understood.

“Call me when you get to Amanda’s,” Parker instructed, a gentle compassion in his voice. “I’ll hold off calling until then.”

“Okay. Thanks, doc.”

He gave me a wry laugh. “Don’t thank me, big guy. I just shattered your world and made you feel yourself up in public.”

Believe it or not, I actually managed a chuckle.

“He’s a fighter, Brendon. Remember that.”

He ended the call, leaving me standing alone in the stretching shadows of the afternoon. It didn’t take me long to wave down a taxi. I gave the driver Amanda’s address, settled into the backseat and closed my eyes. What felt like a few seconds later, I felt a soft prod on my shoulder.

“Hey, guy, we’re here.”

I opened my eyes, squinting against the red light of the sunset streaming through the door. Man, I was out of whack. Had I been asleep?

“Forty-two fifty,” the driver said.

I caught a glimpse of Amanda’s apartment building behind him. Mrs. Garcia was in her window, watching us. Still foggy from my unexpected nap, I handed over some notes – who the hell knew how much I’d given him – and told him to keep the change.

At his grunted “Gee, thanks” I assumed I’d failed at tipping again. Given the notion of failing had never been one I’d contemplated or acknowledged before, I seemed to be doing quite a bit of it now. Failing at tipping. Failing at love. Failing at saving my son.

Climbing out of the taxi, I waved at Mrs. Garcia. She narrowed her eyes at me from her perch and then turned back into the deep shadows of her apartment.

“And a cheery hello to you, too,” I muttered, making my way up the path to the building. Heart pounding in my chest like a sledgehammer wielded by a maniac, I opened the door and made my way to Amanda’s apartment.

I knocked on her door. “It’s me, Mandy.”

Why had I called her that? The name I’d only ever used the first time we had sex, and the day she ended us. Why had I called her that now?

At the sound of the lock releasing, my gut knotted. And then the door swung open and I could barely breathe. She’d changed her clothes since returning from the hospital. She was now wearing a pair of pink and grey striped PJ shorts and a loose pink T-shirt with a cartoon skiing wombat on its front I remembered her buying at Thredbo. She looked vulnerable. Fragile. And so beautiful my heart ached and my breath caught in my throat.

“Hi Bren,” she whispered.

I couldn’t say anything. Words wouldn’t come. None.

A hesitant smile played on her lips. “I’m glad you changed your mind. Did you want to come in?”

“Yeah,” I murmured. “I do. I need to.”

A frown knitted her eyebrows. “Do you … have you spoken to Dr. … to Parker?”

A vice wrapped around my chest. Every hair on my body prickled upright. My head roared. I met her eyes, and still, words failed me. One more thing to add to my list of failures.

“You’ve spoken to Parker, haven’t you?”

I nodded. “Mandy …” I reached for her hand. “I’m not—”

“Don’t say it,” she burst out, yanking her fingers from mine and shaking her head. “Please don’t say it, Bren. Please?” She staggered back a step, her face, her eyes filling with utter misery.

I closed the space between us, caught her hand again and gently pulled her to my body. I wrapped her in the strength of my arms and pressed my cheek to the top of her head. “I’m sorry, Mandy. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh God, Bren,” she sobbed against my chest, shaking, trembling. “Oh God, Bren, I can’t lose him. I can’t … I can’t …”

I held her, tried to absorb her pain, tried to take it all away with just my arms. It was all I could do. I wish I could tell you I knew what to say to take away her pain, but I can’t. Like tipping and saving Tanner’s life, I’d come up short.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated against the top of her head. I was being torn apart. I felt like life had lied to me all these years. I felt like my optimism was just one big cosmic joke and Amanda, Tanner and I were bearing the brunt of it.

I was angry. I was miserable. I was … lost.

“It’s not your fault,” Amanda mumbled into my chest. “It’s no one’s fault. It’s just … just the way it is.”

I pulled away from her a little, hooked my finger under her chin and raised her face to mine. “We’ll find a donor, babe,” I assured her. I didn’t question that, nor the term of affection I’d used. I was beyond that. The only way we could move forward now was together. Tanner was going to need our strength, our
combined
strength.

She looked up at me, eyes red with tears, misery eating her. “I don’t … we’ve looked …”

I shook my head, pulling her closer to me still. “I do. And we will. I can’t believe life would give you both to me, and then take Tanner from us. I
can’t
believe that.”

“The eternal optimist,” she declared, the words little more than a husky rasp.

I shrugged, even as inside I wondered if my days of optimism were long gone. “Yeah. It’s what makes me so awesome. Bet Tanner will be the same.”

Amanda closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to my chest. Her fingers fisted in the front of my shirt. Her body trembled. “I know you’ll never be able to trust me again, Bren,” she said, returning her gaze to mine, “but—”

I cut her off with a kiss. A soft brushing of my lips over hers. And then it wasn’t so soft. Then I was kissing her with everything I had. And she was kissing me back.

Her hands tangled in my hair, her body pressed to mine and she was kissing me back. It was a visceral passion. It came from our souls, from the place deep inside us, raw from grief and hope and want.

There was comfort in it as well, the comfort of two people who knew each other beyond the physical, who’d shared life together and created life together. We kissed, needing to feel something more than gnawing emptiness and grief and hopelessness. We let the elemental connection of flesh take us over, control us. Sear away the pain.

At some point the door was closed and we removed each other’s clothes. I don’t know who started it first. Nor do I know when we moved to the sofa. Or even
how
we moved to the sofa. I don’t remember
not
kissing Amanda, but suddenly we were naked and on the sofa, moving against each other.

Nothing existed for me in that moment except her. Yes, my son had leukemia. Yes, I wasn’t a match. Yes, Amanda had lied to me … But for that one brief moment, I needed nothing else but to feel her, feel the velvet friction of her skin sliding against mine. Feel the pounding of my heart, the quickening of my pulse because of it, not because of fear or terror.

I needed to experience passion, life, energy, and I did in Amanda’s arms, in her body. I understood it now, the emotion that had overwhelmed her when she’d first seen me at the airport. I understood how we’d ended up in the shower together when our world was so horribly wrong. I understood it, because I felt it now. That raw, elemental need for connection, for life … We lost each other to the ferocity of our need, there on the sofa.

It didn’t take long. But it was so powerful. So absolute. I buried my face into the side of her neck, breathed her in, breathed
us
in. I kissed her, over and over, the sensation of her tongue against mine, in my mouth, like a drug I couldn’t resist. I cupped her breasts, squeezed them, pinched them, her flesh branding my palm, my belly, my thighs … everywhere our bodies touched, her flesh branded mine.

When I entered her, when the tight muscles of her sex engulfed my length, I forgot everything, everything, but the pure rapture of being with her. She wrapped her legs around mine and held me to her, locked us together, and that too was what I needed. She called my name, clawed at my back, and we moved together. Perfect harmony, perfect synergy. Finding life and heat when so much had been taken away. Burning up in it, even as a part of our souls grew cold with hopeless despair.

Amanda came first, screaming my name, and then it was tears in her voice as she whimpered it again. Tears and an emotion I ached to accept, ached to acknowledge in myself.

“Oh, Bren,” she moaned, as I drove into her, over and over, “Oh God, Bren, I love you, I love …”

My orgasm shattered not just my sanity, but my rage. The hate for her I’d clung to shattered, splintered into a million pieces. I raised my head and cupped her face and emptied myself into her in every way as I watched her face contort with pleasure.

“Mandy …” I panted. “Mandy …”

No other words came. I buried my face into the side of her neck again and drove into her, and she held me. I was sweaty and stinky from my run, but she held me. She kissed me.

And then, we were still. Wrapped in each other’s arms and legs, our hearts pounding as one, our ragged breaths the only sound in the room. I couldn’t move. I was too drained. Not just physically, but emotionally. I couldn’t move and I didn’t want to. I wanted to hold her to me, I wanted to stay inside her. Yes, we needed to call Parker. Yes, we needed get to the hospital. Yes, we needed to be with Tanner … but for now I needed this.

Was I being selfish? Probably. I’ll own it if you think I was. But nothing could have moved me away from Amanda at that moment in time.

Finally, with more willpower than I’ve ever exerted, I rose from the sofa. “I’m going to have a quick shower,” I murmured.

She nodded up at me, eyes half closed, face soft. “Okay.”

When I returned a few minutes later, she held her arms out to me and, wordlessly, I went to her and curled up beside her on the sofa. We held each other, connected on every imaginable level, and at some point, we fell asleep.

A loud knocking on the door woke me. I struggled to sit up, disorientated and sore. Jesus, my body, particularly my legs, were aching. The fact I’d run for almost two hours earlier may have had something to do with it. How long had I been asleep for?

Mouth dry, eyes scratchy and blurry, I peered at the door, and then around the room. Where was Amanda?

Whoever was at the door knocked again. There was still no sign of Amanda, but now I was more awake, I could hear the shower running. Spying my shorts on the floor a few feet away, I got up and pulled them on.

Jetlag is a thing, and it was hitting me hard.

For someone who spent the majority of his life in peak physical condition, I was feeling less than stellar. It was like I’d never done any kind of serious exercise at all before today. My glutes and quads burned like taut rope with every step I took toward the door. Was I limping? Crap, I was limping. Shuffling like an old man. What the hell?

By the time I made it to the door, the person on the other side was knocking again. Scraping the fingers of my left hand through my hair – God knows what it looked like – I flicked the lock and opened the door.