Page 117 of Can't Get Enough

Like when you realize the woman walking toward you, covered in sand and soaked by sun, wearing a smile more breathtaking than the horizon—that woman, her you’d probably do anything to keep.

CHAPTER 37

HENDRIX

This is delicious,” Mr. Bell says around a heaping spoonful of banana pudding. “I haven’t had this in years.”

“It’s the easiest thing to make.” I shrug and take a seat at the kitchen table with him, glad to have company while Maverick is in his office for yet another meeting. I’ve never met anyone who works harder. “I’m not much of a cook, which is ironic since my mom used to own a bakery.”

He chews and eyes me thoughtfully. “I heard she has Alzheimer’s. How’s she doing?”

I love the way he doesn’t tiptoe around uncomfortable topics. Over the last week, it’s become one of my favorite things about Maverick’s father. He’s blunt like life is too short for bullshit and babying. Maverick must get that from his daddy.

“She does.” I scoop up some of the dessert. “She’s fine. Not getting worse or better, I guess. I go home a lot, but it’s not the same as living in the house every day.”

“Very different. I suppose Mav told you his grandfather lived with us for a while.”

“Yeah. He said it was tough.”

“On us all, but on my wife more than anyone. He got paranoid at one point and thought she was trying to poison his food. He refused to eat.” He shakes his head and draws his brows together. “Had to be hospitalized and tube fed.”

He glances up, alarm and contrition on his face. “I don’t mean to scare you about… well, about your mother. I’m sorry.”

“We’re past that,” I say, offering a rueful smile. “I know what this is. Actually, every time I think I know what this is, it becomes something else. Usually something worse, so you’re not scaring me.”

“Priscilla kept him at home until it was obvious he needed more than she could do on her own.”

“Those are such tough decisions.” I sigh and trace the pattern in the wood of the kitchen table. “We’ll have to make more of those eventually.”

“You’re staying there for how long while your aunt recovers?”

“Six weeks.”

“You ready for that?”

I sigh, my stomach churning so much I set the dessert aside. I don’t like acknowledging my anxiety about being with my mother. She’s taken care of me so well my whole life, sacrificed for me without question or thought. I don’t want to fail her now that it’s my turn to take care of her.

“I don’t know about ready,” I answer after a few seconds. “It’s kind of scary and sad. And I feel…”

“Helpless?” Mr. Bell offers, understanding and compassion mixing in his eyes.

“Yeah, and I hate feeling helpless. I’m always in control. Ya know?”

“I know the feeling. For people like us, like Maverick, too, the worst thing you can do is put us in a situation where we have no control.”

He leans forward and covers my hand with his own.

“But it’s also the best thing for us, too. It teaches us a lot about life and about ourselves. Strength is not always control. Sometimes it’s surrender.”

“You mean like giving up?” Because that is a foreign concept to me.

“No, not giving up—accepting. Accepting that you can’t control a wave, so you ride it. You set aside the idea that things will go exactly as planned. In a situation like this, they never do.”

“But what is my plan for this? I don’t mean like legally or care or… I mean, how do I plan for the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through? How do you plan to lose someone this way?”

“The plan is love, Hendrix.” He pats my hand. “The plan is love. It’s theno matter how bad it gets or how much I want to run, I’ll staykind of love. I’ve watched you over this last week, and have heard how you talk about your friends and the people in your life. You have the capacity for that.”

Tears prick my eyes and I blink furiously, determined not to let them fall. I’ve only known Maverick’s father for a week, and I’m already crying on his shoulder? What is it about the Bell men that makes me feel so vulnerable?

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