Blissful Hook by Hannah Cowan

Chapter 33

I didn't get to say goodbye.

Out of every emotion clanging around in my head, feasting on me like a family of leeches, guilt is the most prominent. It's in my veins, turning my blood into lead, weighing me down until I'm sure I would sink to the bottom of the ocean if I took a swim. I haven't left my room in days. Weeks, maybe.

Yeah, I think it's been a week.

Tyler's been here every chance he gets. Holding me, trying to have as much of a conversation with me as he can, bringing me strawberry milkshakes.

Guilt swallows me again.

Oakley and Ava haven't gone back to Seattle at all since Mom died. A sob crashes through my chest. It makes my throat burn and my hand rises to cover my mouth as I try to calm myself down. It doesn't work and before I know it, I have myself hunched forward, fists gripping my blanket as I throw my head back and scream.  

I scream because the ache in my chest is becoming unbearable. Because I've lost my best friend—the woman who loved so profoundly that it consumed her. I scream because Oakley's too young to have lost both of his parents. So am I. There was so much left for her to see. So much left to do. I scream because it isn't fair. Nothing about this is fair. It's so incredibly unfair that I'm not even sure why any of us try. We're all going to die eventually—ripped away from our loved ones, leaving them to grieve us, hoping it was all just a nightmare.

My bedroom door pounds. Two deep, angry voices clash behind it but I can't stop crying long enough to ask who's there or to tell them to go away. I move my hands to my face instead and my palms push against my eyes until I see static. I don't move when hands grip my shoulders, pulling me towards a strong chest. I don't move until I smell Tide laundry detergent and a mixture of spices that I've never been able to pinpoint. My brother pulls me into him and holds me tight, letting me soak his shirt with my tears.

His arms envelop me, forming a human shield around me like he's trying to keep me safe from the air surrounding us, rippling with misery. I cling onto him, terrified that if I let go, he'll disappear too, leaving me completely alone. My heart is torn, battered and bruised. As far back as I remember, Mom would tell me I stole her beating heart the first time our eyes met. But the hollow in my chest tells me that she not only took hers back, but she took half of mine too.

Oakley softly shushes me while pressing down the hair on the top of my head. His own chest shakes and a wild, raw cry of agony tears through the silence, shredding my insides to bits. My eyes squeeze shut and I clutch his back, keeping him close to me and wanting nothing more than to take away his suffering.

"I'm here," I whimper, sniffling a few times. I'm pushing myself to the end of my rope, using the rest of my strength to comfort my brother. He deserves to have somebody take care of him this time around. I know Ava will do what she can, but I'm his sister. It's different for us. He took care of me when Dad died and now I'm going to return the favour. "It will be okay. I promise."

Will it? I choose not to focus on that heavy question and focus on the relief of having my brother beside me. We can lose everything and everyone but we'll always have each other. That has to count for something.

It has to.

After what feels like an eternity, our eyes have dried up and we've both become still. With a deep, weighted sigh, Oakley pulls away and looks at me through swollen eyes. "I'm sorry."

My eyebrows furrow. "Why? For crying? I won't tell."

"No." His head shakes. "For having to go through this sort of loss again. You're so fucking young."

"Don't you dare apologize to me. This wasn't your fault. This wasn't Mom's fault. This wasn't anybody's fault."

His face remains void of anything but grief. The only sign that lets me know he heard what I said is the slight flinch when I mention Mom. I swallow.

"Ava's pregnant, Gray."

"What?" I recoil, my lips parted in surprise. My stomach churns, bringing forward a wave of nausea.

"We went to see her the day . . ." His words drop, eyes watering before he blinks furiously and pushes away the threat of crying again. "We saw her on her last day. Ava had convinced me we shouldn't wait any longer to tell her. She was already eight weeks along, Gracie." A tiny flicker of light in his eyes makes the corners of my mouth lift in a sad smile.

"Mom could barely stay awake, but fuck did she ever try. The way her eyes had life again and her smile beamed—I'll never forget it. We showed her the ultrasound pictures and she cried for what seemed like forever. She made me promise her that I would marry Ava in Hawaii like she's always dreamed. That I would walk you down the aisle and be the one that gave you away. That if presented the chance, I should bail you out of jail, no questions asked."

He licks his lips and covers my hands with his, squeezing them tight. "She knew it was coming. I knew it too. I just thought you would have had a chance to say goodbye. I didn't know it would be so soon. And for that, I’m so sorry."

I pull our hands to my chest and shake my head. "Stop apologising. I could never blame you for that. One of us got to say goodbye and I'm glad it was you." There's not a hint of a lie in my words. No jealousy or anger. Just a warm sense of relief that Mom went knowing how deeply we loved her and that her kids would take care of each other.

"You're going to be okay. You know that, right?" he asks after a minute of silence. I nod, barely.

"I know. So are you."

"I know. We're not alone in this." There's a knowing look in his eye and I sigh. "Tyler wants to be there for you. As much as it nauseates me to say it, he loves you. And right now, the people who love you are the only people that matter. Let them carry some of your pain."

"He's here, isn't he?" I ask knowingly. I definitely heard two voices outside my door earlier.

"Hasn't left for anything all week."

"I'm surprised he hasn't kicked down the door yet." I choke out a rough laugh and my eyes widen in shock at the unfamiliar noise. It feels good to laugh.

"Want me to get him?"

"Please." I slip my bottom lip between my teeth and chew on it. With a quick nod, he stands up from the bed, places a soft kiss on the top of my head, and walks to the door. He straightens his back when he opens it, and in less than a second, I watch Tyler bust through the threshold, bee-lining it to my bed.

I let out a shocked gasp when he reaches down towards the bed and picks me up. He grips my thighs in a tight grip and wraps them around his waist. He holds me like I could disappear into thin air at any moment. He sighs deeply when his nose finds my hair and I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting the stiffness fade from my limbs.

"When I heard you scream, I—" I fist his shirt and shake my head, cutting him off.

"Lay with me?"

His chest rumbles against mine. "You don't even have to ask."

The funeral was last week. And if I'm honest, I only remember small fragments of that day. Something I think I did subconsciously. A way to protect myself from the agony that filled me to the brim, threatening to bubble up and explode like a shaken pop bottle with the lid half twisted.

I remember the fat raindrops pelting down on the smooth mahogany wood as they lowered it into the wet hole in the ground. I remember the weight that rested on my shoulders as I fought to keep my knees from buckling when Oakley read the eulogy with streams of tears staining his wind-bitten cheeks. I remember our Grandma—Dad's mom—as she showed up with tears in her eyes, pretending that she hadn't abandoned us when her son passed away sixteen years ago. And I remember holding the hands of the only other people who, like myself, wore white to the funeral.

Mom hated wearing black. The last time she wore it was for Dad's funeral. So we wore white. We honoured her that day: Oakley, Ava, Adam, Braden, Tyler, and myself. We didn't say goodbye to her. Why say goodbye when it wasn't goodbye? Not forever, anyway. We said, see you later, instead.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something," Tyler mumbles against the bare skin beneath my breasts. His head lies on my stomach with my fingers laced through his hair. And the longer I play with his hair, the more I want to run to the bathroom and grab a pair of scissors so I can snip a few inches off. He's been too distracted—between playoffs and taking care of me—to get it trimmed and he’s looking a bit scraggly. My lips twitch into a smile.

"Okay," I hum and soak in this moment of comfort.

"I never gave you an answer when you asked me to move in with you."

The strands of black silk fall from my fingers. "What?"

He laughs a deep, content laugh that makes my skin break out in goosebumps. That beautiful sound is equal parts adrenaline pumping and heart lurching. I become addicted to this feeling almost instantly.

"Would we be living here or at your place? Because I don't fit in your castle, and you sure as shit don't fit in mine, princess."

I fumble for a reply, opening and closing my mouth as my tongue dries up. "Uh."

He tilts his head until our eyes meet, a mix between humour and curiosity consuming his. I swallow the nerves knotting together in my throat. "How about neither?"

"Really?" His eyebrows jump as if he expected me to push for him to live somewhere he wouldn't be completely comfortable.

"Really," I giggle. "The only reason Oakley got me that fancy apartment was because he wanted to make sure that I was safe. But I don't need anything like that anymore. Not if I'm with you, Ty. Nothing makes me feel safer than you do."

I watch a sliver of vulnerability flicker across his milk chocolate gaze as he stares at me, not daring to speak a single word. I trail my fingers down the sharp grooves of his cheekbones and grip his chin, pulling him closer so it's easier to place my lips on his.

"Then let's do it." His words have a strong sense of finality to them that makes my stomach flutter as they blow across my wet mouth.

"Yeah? You think you can handle being around me that much?"

He snorts. "I already am around you that much, Gray. And I've only almost jumped from your penthouse window a couple dozen times."

I scoff and flick him in the ear. "Asshole."

"Too late to leave me now. My return policy is long expired."

"Shit. What do I do now?" I bat my eyelashes and push out my bottom lip.

"I can think of a few ideas," he mumbles slyly before I gasp, my breast becoming swarmed with the warmth of his mouth. Gripping his hair again, I decide that this is exactly where I want to spend every single one of my future days.

With him.