LITMIR.BIZ

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The next several days would give a more accurate picture of their prognosis. But at least they’d survived their birth. Each day was one step closer to health.

      The door down the hallway opened, and Brad came down in sweat shorts and a T-shirt, a black and white sports bag clutched in one hand.

      “Where are you going?” The question was ludicrous, but what else could she say?

      “To the gym.” He snatched the keys to his bike from the foyer table. “Don’t wait up.”

      That was all very well and good, but it still didn’t answer her question. Did she go to his room or not?

      Not.

      In his current mood she didn’t think he’d be very happy to find her there on his return.

      Fine. If he was okay with it, she would be too. She knew it was a lie, but maybe if she said it often enough, she’d eventually believe it.

      Taking herself off to the bedroom, she shut the door a little louder than necessary, but what the hell. There was no one home to hear it. Still, it gave her a certain sense of satisfaction.

      She pulled her clothes off and changed into a nightgown. She’d gotten used to sleeping in the buff, because Brad said he liked feeling her bare skin against his, but it seemed strange to sleep naked if it was just her.

      Pulling back the beige striped bedspread, she crawled under the covers and grabbed the remote to the television. She idly flipped through the channels, pausing at a nature show where the image of a lion taking down a gazelle flickered across the screen. The huge feline held its prey by the throat, cutting off its air supply and suffocating the poor creature.

      Chloe gulped and switched the channel, trying not to see any similarities with her current situation. An old black and white western was the only other option, but it was better than lying in bed in the dark and brooding about what was wrong with Brad. If things didn’t change, though, she was moving out. The sooner the better.

      * * *

      Brad frowned. He’d heard voices when he’d first come through the door to the apartment and had assumed Chloe was on the phone. But the handset was in its holder. Maybe she was on her cell. He made his way back to his room, dumping the bag on the floor as he went through the door. His frown deepened. Chloe wasn’t there.

      Was he surprised? He’d barely spoken a word to her when he’d come home, but he hadn’t been able to. If he had, she’d have started asking all kinds of questions. Questions he hadn’t been ready to answer. He’d had second thoughts about going to see his father and had decided to head to the gym and work off some of his frustration. He hadn’t wanted to touch Chloe in his current state of mind. But now that he was back, he wanted to pull her close and let her sweet scent lull him to sleep.

      The voices continued until a scream followed by sobs came from the guest room.

      Had Travis somehow gotten into the apartment?

      He went to the door and tried the knob, only to find it locked. That damn key! Why had he ever given it to her? Sweat began to form on his upper lip. “Chloe?”

      No answer, but the sobbing continued unabated. The locks weren’t meant to keep intruders out—or wayward children in—just to keep someone from entering a room unannounced. He put a shoulder to the door and shoved hard. The lock gave way and the door burst open, just as he’d suspected it would.

      A figure on the bed moved. Sat up. The crying continued, but it wasn’t coming from that direction. He pivoted and saw the television set. Still on. A woman on the screen being held at gunpoint.

      “Brad? What’s wrong?”

      The adrenalin still pumped through his system, his heart pounding from its effects. He dragged a shaky hand through his hair, trying to calm his chaotic thoughts as he turned back round. “I heard... I thought Travis had somehow gotten in.”

      She reached on the nightstand for something. One click and the television went off, throwing the room into darkness. “Sorry. I must have fallen asleep with it on.”

      He came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Is there a reason you’re in here rather than in there?” He nodded toward the hallway leading to his room.

      “Well...you didn’t seem very happy when you came home. I thought it was better this way.”

      “It’s not. Sorry for not making that clear.” He smoothed her hair off her cheeks. “I got some bad news today and wasn’t sure how to deal with it.”

      “Anything you want to talk about?”

      “Maybe tomorrow.” His arm went round her back and held her against him, needing the contact more than he should. “Come to bed with me.”

      “Are you sure?”

      He nodded. “I want you next to me.”

      “Crawl in here with me, then.” Chloe pushed the covers down her legs.

      Brad stood and stripped off his street clothes, glad he’d chosen to shower at the gym. But when he got in and slid his hands down her back, they were met with some kind of flocked fabric. “Do you have to wear this?” he whispered. “I want your skin under my hands.”

      She sat up. “Help me, then.”

      He helped her shed her nightclothes and then folded her close, pulling the bedding up around them. Chloe snuggled against him and a few seconds later kissed the base of his throat, her fingers coming up to touch his face.

      Although he knew she’d found the moisture there—wasn’t sure exactly when his vision had blurred—she didn’t ask about it or try to talk. She just wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. He squeezed back, the roller-coaster of emotions he’d experienced during the day quieting before sliding to a halt.

      Chloe had somehow made everything all right. And she’d done it without uttering a single word.

      * * *

      They didn’t need a second opinion. His father was dying.

      He slid the last report back in its folder. “I don’t understand.”

      His father reclined on the bed, and although he’d always had the body of a runner, wiry with ropy muscles, his cheeks were more angular than Brad had ever seen them. His skin was sallow, the yellow signifying liver involvement.

      Brad’s mother wasn’t in the house: his father had sent her out to get something.

      “I needed to talk to you alone. Tell you how...sorry I am. For the things that went on when you were younger. I didn’t stand up to your mother when I should have.” He paused and then cleared his throat. “I know if I don’t say it now, I might never get another chance. I’m proud of you, Brad. You’ve become a fine man.”

      A fine man. One who didn’t like locked doors and who couldn’t be in a relationship for longer than a couple of months.

      Brad waited for the anger to rise up and swallow him, but it wasn’t there. All he felt was regret. “I appreciate you saying that.”

      What else was there to say?

      “You’ll be around for your mother after I’m gone? Despite everything that happened, I know she loves you.”

      Was he serious? Brad was the last person his mother had ever wanted around. He swallowed, not sure how to answer. “She’ll be fine. She’s a strong woman.”

      His father shook his head. “I know it seems that way, but we married right out of high school. She was pregnant with you at the time. She’s never been alone—really alone—in her entire life. She needs to know someone will be there once I’m gone, even if she won’t come out and say it herself.”

      Why was his father telling him all this?

      Because he was the fall-back plan.

      Even as the thought went through

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