Admiring Avery by J.L. Leslie

Author:J.L. Leslie [Leslie, J.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

Avery

I wake up, rolling onto my side in my bed. It quickly dawns on me that I’m not in the hospital chair I’ve been sleeping in, but actually in my own bed. I briefly wonder how I got here, but hear a noise down the hall, so I assume whoever brought me here is still at the house.

“Caleb?” I call out, climbing out of my bed and heading toward the kitchen.

Instead of finding my brother there, I find Landon. He stands at our stove, stirring what looks to be a pot of spaghetti sauce.

I watch him for a moment, enjoying the sight of him in his dark, blue button-up shirt and jeans. I don’t think he knows how to go fully casual, but he pulls the look off with ease.

He hums quietly to himself as he continues to stir, bringing the spoon to his lips and tasting the sauce before putting it back in the pot. I stifle a laugh.

“Smells good,” I comment and approach the stove.

He holds out the spoon and lets me try the sauce. I don’t comment on how he shared his germs with the pot because I honestly don’t care. I taste the sauce and lick my lips, the savory sauce warm on my tongue.

“Tastes good, too,” I smile.

“Good old Ragu,” he laughs.

“Did Caleb con you into cooking for me?” I ask him, stirring the spaghetti noodles. “Because the hospital food is not as bad as it looks. Turns out, cardboard in a plastic wrapper is a delicacy.”

“No,” he replies. “I came by the hospital, and he asked me to take you home, so I did.”

“He did?”

“Yep,” he nods.

“It’s been a crazy week,” I admit, and he takes my hand in his.

“What’s his prognosis?” he asks me, cutting straight through the bullshit.

Landon knows my dad is sick. Pretty much everyone in Hollis knows that now. There is no sense in pretending that it isn’t happening, that he’s dying. Lying to myself won’t change the outcome, and I have never been good at convincing myself to believe in something I don’t.

“He has pancreatic cancer,” I tell him, easing my hand from his. “Even though he’s under treatment, he’s declining fast. It’s only a matter of time.”

That’s tough to admit, but the more I say it out loud, the easier it will be. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m a nurse, and I have always thought if the family of my patients knew it was coming, it would have made it easier for them. They would’ve been ready. Nothing can prepare you, though. Not really.

“I’m not certain what to say,” he says.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

I turn the burners off on the stove and feel him take my hand again, tugging me toward him. I try to resist, pulling back, but he places his other hand at my side and pulls me to him, enclosing me in a hug.

I keep my arms at my side a moment, knowing if I touch him, I will shatter.

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