The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller(59)

He looks to the mess below him, picking pieces of lettuce out of his hair, before lifting his face and eyeing my pleased grin. His lips barely quirk at the corners before he straightens his face. “You’re lucky you just took a shower.”
“Am I?” I try to maintain a straight face, but the pickle still stuck in his hair makes it really difficult. The mood lightens as my lips twitch, and for the first time today, his eyes soften. Slowly, he reaches over the counter and places his hand underneath my chin, tilting my head backwards with his knuckle. His gaze never breaks as he narrows his eyes, staring deeply into mine as he angles his head to the left.
“Interesting,” he murmurs, swiping his thumb just under my bottom lip before releasing his hold and redirecting his attention to the mess. Just as he opens the door to the pantry and dumps the remains of my sandwich into the trashcan, my curiosity gets the best of me.
“How do you know your way around so well? How often have you been over here?”
His hand finds his hip and his head falls before he inhales deeply. Still looking at the floor, he speaks, barely above a whisper, “Someone had to help her, Bree.” His head lifts, his eyes filled with uneasiness. “I’m not gonna bullshit you. It’s pretty bad. I’ve been visiting a lot more over the last month.”
A bulge lodges in my throat and I’m forced to clear it before I speak. “How long have you been talking to her?”
He answers without hesitation. “Since you decided to disappear on us. She would call me, concerned, and I would call her to see if she had heard from you. We would speak once or twice a week, but then things started happening. It started with a cough here and there, but then over the months it started getting uncontrollable. I could hear her over the phone, coughing and gagging. A lot of times she’d have to let me go and call me back.”
He draws a deep breath. “I couldn’t just let her suffer like that, you know? It wasn’t right. So, a couple of months ago I started coming by on the weekends to help her as much as I could.”
I nod my head, trying to fight back the guilt and grief threatening my eyes. Swallowing deeply, I amend my previous statement. “Maybe you’re not such an * then.” Rising from my seat, I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes. “Thank you.” I turn away, but stop and pivot back in his direction, offering him an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry about the sandwich.”
The corner of his mouth lifts into his characteristic lopsided smile as he chuckles under his breath. “Don’t be. That sandwich was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, Bree. It’s nice to see you smile again. Even if it’s at my expense.”
My dimple sinks into my pierced cheek as we stare at each other from across the room. His teeth find his bottom lip as he smiles until he releases it to suck in a loud breath, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Well, assuming I’m safe from another sandwich-launch to the face, with me not being an * and all, can I make you another one before we hit the road?”
I nod my head, but worry starts to hijack my heart with the mention of my visit with Linda. Before I know it, I’m stuffed full of sandwich, and pulling into the parking lot of the hospital as I try to calm my breathing. Once we’ve stopped, I make no move to get out of the car.
“Ready?” Kaeleb prompts from next to me as he pulls the keys from the ignition.
My eyes prick with tears, and I can barely swallow, the narrowing of my throat increasing with my apprehension.
What if she hates me?
What if she can’t forgive me?
What if she doesn’t even want to see me?
Thoughts fly around in my head so quickly I can barely process them. Gripping the door handle as tightly as I physically can, I turn to Kaeleb. “I’m scared.”
The simple disclosure propels stinging tears down my cheeks. Kaeleb, in turn, just offers a sad smile, leaning his head against his headrest. “You can do this. I know you can.”
My mouth scrunches to the side as I try to convince myself to get out of the car while Kaeleb just sits patiently and waits. After a while, I eventually draw in and release a deep, long breath before finally pulling the door handle and stepping outside. Kaeleb jumps out to meet me in front of the car, and as we make our way into the hospital entrance, I step closer to him, so close the arms of our coats rub against each other. I focus on the sound, trying to block the building anxiety in my stomach and tightening in my chest, until we stop in front of the elevator. I watch as Kaeleb reaches forward and presses the “Up” button with his finger, my foot tapping with nervous energy, my hands trembling furiously.
The door dings and an involuntary whimper escapes my throat as fear forces its way out of my system. My feet remain planted in place, dread rooting me to the ground until familiar warmth envelops my hand. I glance down as Kaeleb interlaces our fingers, then look up to meet his eyes—kind, full of patience and understanding, and in them I find the strength I need. After giving him thanks with a small smile, we face forward and step into the elevator. Together.
Once inside, we turn as the door closes, still joined as he clutches my hand tightly, feeding me his steely determination with his hold. His resilience continues to flow through me as we ride up four floors…as the doors slide open…as we walk down the hall…as we knock on Room 431 in the Oncology Wing…and by the time we step inside, his grip has become so strong I can no longer feel my fingers.
I give him a little squeeze as we round the corner to let him know this, but as soon as my eyes land on Linda, my light squeeze turns into a vise grip. My feet stop moving forward and my whole body goes rigid at the sight in front of me.