Chapter 28

Riggs has called twice, which is more than I thought I would hear from him. He's miserable. Stuck in a field in Louisiana with nothing but rain for three days straight, getting bitten alive by mosquitoes and sweating his balls off. I know exactly how bad it sucks; I've done it more times than I can count. JRTC at Fort Polk is worse than hell on Earth, worse than basic training, or even deployment. The Joint Readiness Training Center is designed to prepare you for combat situations, but all it prepares you for is the seventh circle of hell.

Because that's exactly what it is.

I read his last text message again for the hundredth time, wishing it made me feel even a little bit closer to him. "Riggs says Fort Polk has convinced him not to renew his contract with the reserves." At least those words bring me some small measure of comfort. I won't have to say goodbye to him again after this.

West snorts. "That fucking place. Don't get me started."

Mandy gags. "The humidity is so thick you could cut it with a knife."

Brandt laughs. "Am I the only one who likes land NAV training?"

"I think something got shaken loose inside your head in that blast," West teases, wrapping his knuckles lightly on Brandt's skull. "All right, I need the make and model of a classic car."

West is scribbling in his Mad Libs pad. It's the only thing keeping us entertained while my mama sleeps most of the afternoon. Whatever they're giving her through her IV keeps her heavily sedated.

"The 1964 Country Squire ," Mandy recalls fondly.

"That's not a hot car," West argues.

"You didn't say hot, you said classic. She's a beaut; a real classic."

West rolls his eyes and jots it down. "A kind of tree nut?"

"Pistachio."

"Walnut."

"Pecan," I answer, thinking of my mama's nickname for me. When she's gone, no one's ever gonna call me that again. And out of nowhere, the pain of losing her hits me all over again. Silent tears track down my cheeks and neck, soaking into the collar of my shirt.

Grief is the oddest thing. You're going along just fine one minute, laughing about a classic car, and the next, you fall apart like a rusty station wagon hitting a pothole.

"Put that shit away," Brandt hisses to West, handing me a tissue. "You hungry, Rhett? I can run downstairs and grab you something to eat."

"No, I'm good, thanks. I'll eat when—" Suddenly the monitors start going crazy, blinking and beeping, but my mama looks like she's resting comfortably. Two nurses rush in and silence the alarms. They lift her eyelids and try to get a response from her.

"Loretta? Wake up, Loretta."

"What is it? What's wrong with my mama?"

"She's having a mini-stroke. It's called a Transient Ischemic Attack."

"What do we do? What are you gonna do about it? Is she all right?"

The rapid-fire questions are met with a kind smile.

"There's not much we can do with TIA. I'll administer a blood thinner to make sure there's no clotting, but it's likely to happen again."

She says it like it's no big deal, like it happens all the time. Maybe for her, it does, but not to me. Not to my mama. I just feel so… Goddamn impotent and useless, powerless to do anything but watch her suffer and slip away.

"Mama? Wake up, talk to me." I just need to know she's still with me.

She comes back online slowly, and I can't describe the feeling of relief that hits me square in the chest when I see the color of her eyes again.

"Baby, quit yellin' at me." Her words are drawn out, dripping from her lips as slow as molasses dripping off a spoon. "You're louder than a dog in labor."

"You had a stroke, Mama." My voice breaks as tears of relief stream from my eyes.

"I'm still here, ain't I?" She's drooling from the left side of her lips, and I grab a tissue to wipe her mouth. "Introduce me to your friends, pecan."

"Mama, this is West and Brandt, and Mandy. They stopped by to make sure you're okay."

"No, baby, they're here for you. And when I'm gone, you'll have all these friends to look after you."

Her complexion looks sallow and pale, and her skin is clammy with oil and sweat. "Don't talk about bein' gone. Let's just talk about right here, right now." I press my lips to the back of her hand. It's plain now, with no polish and no jewelry. My mama always wore at least four rings. Big shiny ones, fake as a snake, and the brightest nail polish she could buy at Dixon's drug store.

Her hand shakes in mine, and I squeeze her gently to steady it. Her eyes look glassy and red, and I wonder how hard she's fighting to hold back her tears for my sake, like I am for hers.

"Hardships make or break people, baby. After all, tomorrow is another day."

Another one of her favorite lines of Scarlett's. The very last line in the movie. Scarlett's last words. A shiver runs through me and it's soul deep. She closes her eyes to rest and my heart breaks in half and then in half again. There won't be nothing left of it by the time she wakes up.

Eventually, I let the guys talk me into a burger, and I get up and stretch my legs as we head down to the cafeteria. After lunch, Mandy and I are the only ones who return to her room, and we stay until visiting hours are over before he convinces me to go home and get some rest in a real bed for a change. The only reason I agree is 'cause my neck is killing me. My back, my neck, and my leg.

"Spread your thighs and pop that ass out."

Riggs's deep voice is a command I can't ignore. I'm on my hands and knees for him on the mattress like an offering, waiting to be consumed. The rough stubble of his cheeks scratches my ass as he buries his face between them to lap at my hole.

"I missed the way you taste." I missed his fucking tongue. "Going to get you nice and wet before I bury my cock in you."

Fuck yeah. He's never deploying again. In fact, fuck life. We're never leaving this room. My chest drops to the mattress, giving him more access, and he rises up on his knees, grasping his cock. He lines it up with my hole and shoves inside without stretching me first.

"Holy mother of…" My words are cut off by the ringing of my phone. "Ignore it. Just keep going," I beg.

But it doesn't quit. It just keeps ringing, louder and louder.

"Holy mother of…" I come awake suddenly, my body jerking, and I'm about to fall off the damn bed before I catch myself and bang my elbow on the nightstand. "Fuck. What?" I yell at my phone.

I was dreaming. The bed is cold beside me. Cold and empty. Riggs is still deployed in Louisiana, and I'm alone with nothing but my dreams to keep me warm.

"All right." I rub the grit from my eyes. "Keep your damn boots on. I'm comin'."

Everything starts to make sense again in a rush, and I scramble for the phone in a panic. It could be the hospital, or Riggs, or even one of the Bitches with an emergency.

"Hello?"

"Am I speaking with Rhett Marsh?"

Cold dread settles over my skin like an icy blanket. "Yes."

"My name is Barbara. I'm calling from Mission Hospital. I'm sorry to have to tell you, but your mother passed away about thirty minutes ago."

I hear her, but the words don't make any sense. They're not penetrating my brain. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"Sir, your mother is gone. She passed away."

"Gone?" I shriek. "Gone where?"

"Sir, she passed away."

Mandy's dark shadow appears in my doorway.

"W-what happened?"

"She had a brain aneurysm. A blood vessel ruptured. She passed away in her sleep. In fact, she never woke again after you left."

I can't process it. Although I've been waiting for this news for days, felt it coming like an unwanted visitor stalking me relentlessly, I refuse to believe what I'm hearing. Not until Mandy comes to sit beside me. Somehow, his presence anchors me back in reality, and her words slam into me like a wrecking ball. From out of nowhere, a flood of emotion breaks me in half, and I shatter apart. It starts with silent tears streaming down my cheeks as my shoulders shake, and then ugly, gut-wrenching sobs break free of my throat, and I drop the phone and cling to Mandy's broad chest.

He picks up the phone from the mattress and wraps his arm around me as he takes over for me.

"What do we need to do now?" he asks. "Thank you." And then he hangs up, tossing the phone to the bed. His other arm comes around me. "We need to call the funeral home and have them pick up her body." Funeral home? I haven't even made arrangements for her yet. What funeral home? "But first, we need to have a good cry."

I wasn't there! She died alone. I fucking hate that I thought I needed a good night's sleep when my mother was having her very last night. Why did I leave!?

Mandy's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Whatever you're thinking right now, just stop. You can cry, you can grieve, but you can't beat yourself up. There wasn't a fucking thing you could do to save her. I know you know that, Rhett."

"I could have at least been there to hold her hand."

"It's easy to think that now, but you can't sit there twenty-four seven holding her hand. Your body needs to eat and sleep."

"I bet she knew I wasn't there," I sob. I've made a disgusting snotty mess of his T-shirt.

"Of course she knew, that's why she finally slipped away. She was waiting for you to leave because she didn't want you to see it. Didn't you tell me she didn't want a funeral because she wanted her life to be celebrated? You told me she didn't want to move back home because she didn't want to die in that house and taint the good memories you both made there. She refused to die in front of you because she doesn't want you to remember her that way."

"You think?" I raise my head from his chest, struggling to take a shaky breath.

"Yeah, Rhett. That's exactly what I think."

He's probably right. It's exactly what my mama would do. "I can't…" I lift the hem of my T-shirt to wipe my eyes and nose. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I guess I have to make calls, but…I can't right now."

"Go take a shower and then I'll make you some coffee. While you're in the shower, I'll make some phone calls. You said you wanted to have her cremated?"

All I can do is nod as tears continue to stream down my face.

"Go, I'll take care of everything," he assures me, pulling his snotty shirt over his head.

It's the first glimpse I've ever had of the skin beneath his shirt. His shoulder and part of his back are covered in puckered red scars. It looks painful. It looks like he's suffered ten thousand tragedies. Never once in all the months I've known him have I ever heard him complain, not when his face was sandblasted, not when his skin was grafted, and not when the object of his desire friend-zoned him. Mandy is a true warrior. He fights a battle every single day, and he does it silently, with a smile on his face.

I'm lucky to call him my friend. I'm honored to call him my brother.

In the shower, I don't even bother scrubbing my body with soap. I stand stiff as a statue as the hot water pounds over my face, washing away my tears and opening my clogged sinuses.

Riggs, I need you. I need you so badly right now. Please come home.

When the water runs cold, I step out of the shower and dry my body, dressing in jeans and an old hunter-green Henley. My mama used to say how it would highlight the color of my eyes. Then I laugh, thinking how when I first met Riggs, I was covered in blood, and he told me the red brought out the color of my eyes. God, I miss him. The thought brings fresh tears to my eyes.

I'm so sick of fucking crying I could choke.

Mandy has a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me like he promised. I take a seat at the table across from him and cup the mug with both hands, trying to steal its heat.

"What's going through your head?" Mandy asks.

I take a sip, letting the warm liquid smooth out the lump in my throat. "My body count is piling up. First, Brian, and now my mama. Riggs is gone, and I don't know what I would do without you here."

Mandy winks. "That's what friends are for."

"No, you're more than just my friend. You're my brother, my best friend. I fought it for a long time because it hurt to replace Brian, but you're not his replacement. You're just this amazin' guy who wants to be a part of my life, and I'm grateful for it."

Mandy looks skeptical. "I don't know; your best friends don't have a great track record. I might be better off just being the guy who lives next door."

"Fuck you," I snort, balling up my snotty tissue and chucking it at him. "You can't make dead jokes about my best friend."

"Yeah, I can. I'm also your best friend. I have that right."

"I guess you do. So what happens now?"

"I contacted a reputable funeral home here in Black Mountain. They're on their way now to pick up your mama. They're going to cremate her body and call us to pick up her remains when they're ready. In the meantime, we have a celebration to plan."

Fuck it. Fuck decorum and manliness and all that bullshit. I rush to my feet, rounding the table as quickly as my leg allows, and throw my arms around Mandy, bear-hugging him.

"All right, all right," he laughs, squeezing me back.

"It's gotta be epic. Nothing but the best for my mama."

"Of course. Nothing but the best. You're talking to a Bitch, and Bitches know how to throw a party."