Page 1 of Fake To Forever

Chapter One: Oil Rigs and Dying Mothers

Haven

“So… what did the doctor say today?”

The question causes me to flinch. I’d anticipated it, of course, but I hate having to answer. Releasing a long sigh, I look up to meet my brother’s dark green gaze. The last thing any of us want to deal with is our mother dying. But unfortunately, that’s the cards we’ve been dealt.

“He said it was just a matter of time now,” I murmur, clutching my glass of beer so hard, my fingers turn white. “All we can do is make mom as comfortable as possible.”

Garrett, who was named after our grandfather but our mother calls him Gary even though he hates it, sucks in a deep breath and lets out a long sigh before taking a drink. “I was afraid of that.”

Taking a moment I try to collect my thoughts, rolling over what steps are going to be taken next. “I know you have to leave soon, but there’s a chance she won’t be here when you get back.”

He nods, his scruffy jaw tensing at my words. “Yeah, I figured as much. There isn’t much that I can do though right now. They’ll let me come back early, if something happens.”

At least there’s that.

I lift my head higher and reach out to snag his arm in my hand, unable to hold back my relief. “I didn’t think the oil fields would be that flexible for you.”

“It’d be different if I was on an off-shore rig, but since I’m inland, it’s easier.”

Thank fuck for that.

I feel like a bit of the weight on my shoulders has been lifted. His boss acts like the rest of the world doesn’t exist outside of the oil fields when Garrett’s out there, so I’ve been scared he wouldn’t let my brother go if things with Mom took a turn while he was away. Though, the doctor said that in cases like this, it could be months before… before it takes her.

At least, that was the case for other patients.

“How’s Peter doing?” Garrett asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

Peter, our stepfather, is so over the moon in love with our mom. I know her death will devastate him. I don’t want to put any more stress on Garrett’s shoulders, so I don’t tell him how Peter barely kept it together after the doctor gave Mom’s final prognosis.

“As good as can be expected, I guess. Losing Mom is obviously going to be hard for him, but he was putting on a brave front today.”

“Peter’s a good guy.” Garrett shrugs, dropping his gaze from mine. “He’s always been good. You’ve always been good too, Haven. You’re better than me, especially when it comes to Mom. I know I should’ve been there today, but I just… you know…”

I do know.

Reaching out to squeeze his arm, I try to offer what comfort I can. “Don’t worry, I get it. It’s a lot, but you promise you’ll see Mom before you leave, right?”

“Of course.” His voice trembles. It’s barely discernible, but I pick up on it. I know him too well. It’s hard for him to see Mom suffering. Garrett’s the type of guy who sees a problem and wants to fix it, but he can’t fix Mom. He’s also not good at dealing with feelings of helplessness. “I just didn’t want to be there and listen to the doctor tell us there wasn’t any more hope. I want to believe something can be done.”

We fall into silence as we drink. What more is there to say, really? Even though I’m on the verge of tears, I hold them back. Crying never solved anything, and I don’t want to make Garrett feel worse than he already does. If I can focus on the soft murmur of the bar’s activities around me, I can hold out and delay my breakdown until later, when I’m alone and away from my brother.

Besides, I can’t let my emotions ruin our time together. It’s tradition that before Garrett goes off for his month-long shift in the nearby oil fields, we come to our favorite spot,Carson’s, and sit at the bar together to get drunk before he goes off to join his fellowroughnecks.

A term that some like, and others detest.

Living in Blue Ridge, Texas, roughnecks are everywhere. Plenty of oil magnates reside in this state, and some even come from the off-shore rigs in the Gulf, working inland until the more work off-shore opens up for them.

Roughnecks, for the most part, are younger, wiry guys with muscular forearms, tattoos, and sometimes less than spotless backgrounds. My giant of a brother fits that description to a T, apart from the shady past. He towers over me with his 6’2” height and wide, muscular frame. His dark hair and closely cropped beard give him a rugged appearance, and he has a reputation for being a total playboy, since the girls seem to throw themselves at him.

Which is the last thing I ever want to think about.

It’s absolutely disgusting to watch. Not to mention, desperation never looked good on anyone.

Garrett finishes his beer and then waves the bartender, a burly man who looks more like a lumberjack than a bartender, over to order another one.

“Did I tell you my friend Christian is moving into town?”

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