Page 45 of Worthy Now
We shared yet another delicious dinner at an upscale restaurant in the heart of San Antonio but decided to head back to the hotel early to christen the jacuzzi.
My body is still languid from the bottle of wine we shared while we soaked our achy feet in the hot water, and the on-screen banter has me extra giggly as Jake runs his fingertips over my back in a soothing manner. But every so often, my thoughts turn to the text from my mother earlier, letting me know she collapsed while cleaning out the fridge. Apparently, she woke up feeling great and wanting to take advantage of the rare burst of energy; she’d taken on too much at once.
I offered to come home immediately, but she assured me she was fine. By that time, my dad had already read her the riot act, relegating her to the bedroom for the rest of the day with strict instructions not to move a muscle. I try telling myself that my mother is well looked after, determined not to let negative thoughts consume me and ruin what little time we have left. But when the credits roll over the screen and Jake turns off the TV, I’m no longer able to ignore my troubled mind.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When your mother passed. How did you manage to stay so strong? Just thinking about my mom succumbing to this awful disease and no longer being a part of my life makes me want to scream. I’m a grown woman who was lucky enough to have theguidance and devotion of two amazing parents my entire life. You were just a child with no one left to care for you.”
Jake looks down at me with an unreadable expression before asking, “Is this about your mother’s fall, because I can assure you, her body letting her know she overdid it doesn’t mean she’s on the brink of death.”
“I know. It’s just something that’s been on my mind a lot since this whole thing started. I try not to let myself go there, but there is a possibility that we might not get the outcome we’re all hoping for, and it just had me wondering how you cope with something like that.”
Jake stares at the ceiling for so long, I almost regret bringing it up before his deep voice fills the darkened room.
“I’d love to tell you it’s something you simply get over, but the truth is, you don’t. To be honest, I have no idea how I managed back then. I think I went from shock and disbelief straight into survival mode. I didn’t have the time or luxury to dwell on the situation for long, let alone grief the loss of her the way I probably should’ve. I just locked my feelings up tight and focused on what needed to be done,” he states, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts. “When I went to therapy after my overdose, we talked a lot about the reasons that had me spiraling in the first place. Turns out, putting your own grief on the back burner andsuppressing such strong emotions for so long is not a healthy coping mechanism. Who would’ve thought?” he chuckles, trying to make light of the situation, but I don’t share his amusement. I hate the thought of someone so kind-hearted and caring experiencing even an ounce of pain, and yet he’s endured more than his fair share. “Here’s the thing,” he adds when he notices my somber mood. “You never really get over the death of a loved one. My mother was my rock. The one person who made me feel like I was worth something. Like her love was unconditional and not dependent on what I could do for her. My dad had done a stellar job of making me feel pretty damn useless by that point, and not having her there to build me back up whenever he tore into me was hard. I miss her every day. It’s been years since she was taken, and sometimes, it still hits me so hard I feel like I can’t breathe.” His chest lifts on a deep inhale, like he needs to reassure himself that this is not one of those moments. “There was no time to prepare. No warning. One minute, she was there; the next, she wasn’t. Makes me wonder how different my life would’ve been had she not gotten behind the wheel that night.”
“And what about your dad?” I ask. “How did you deal with watching him struggle through his illness? How did you feel when he lost his battle?” Again, Jake takes his time answering,like he’s debating whether to be brutally honest or give me the watered-down version of the truth.
When he decides on a course of action, he says, “It was different with him. I had no love left for him by that point. Sure, it wasn’t easy watching a grown man suffer and wither away to nothing. No matter how much I despised him, I wouldn’t wish something like that on my worst enemy. It was horrible and degrading and—just plain sad. But I was mostly just terrified I wouldn’t be able to deal with the enormous amount of responsibility he was about to leave me with. Logically, I knew I’d been raising my siblings for years. I knew I didn’t need him for that. But it was difficult to convince myself I’d be able to do a decent job of it, you know? When the person who’s supposed to love you by nature tells you you’re not good enough your whole life. That you’re stupid and unwanted—part of you starts to believe it. The self-doubt worms itself into your system and it festers. It doesn’t ever let go of you completely.” He blows out a heavy breath. “When I bought that first fixer upper, I almost backed out at the last minute because I could hear him taunting me. Telling me I was being an idiot for even considering taking such a huge financial risk. I almost didn’t enroll in my online courses for the same reason. Because in the back of my mind, there he was. ‘You barely got through high school, you stupid son of a bitch. Why on earth would you think you’d be ableto graduate from college?’To this day, I hear him whenever I’m faced with a hard choice. But it’s slowly getting easier to ignore that voice and, who knows? Maybe one day it’ll disappear completely.”
“You know, if he wasn’t dead, I’d be tempted to kill him with my bare hands. I never liked him. From the minute I first laid eyes on him I knew he wasn’t a good man. I hated the way he caused you to fold in on yourself whenever he entered a room. I didn’t like that he had that kind of power over you. That man was a cruel, cold-hearted monster.” Jake smiles at the fierce way I deliver my words and pulls me in for a soft kiss.
“I’m okay now, you know? Despite his best efforts, I came out the other side a functioning human being. Dr. Corrigan had a lot to do with that, and I’m not ashamed to admit that therapy has most likely saved my life.”
“I can’t imagine you lying on a couch and spilling your guts to a stranger,” I say, pressing my lips to the center of his chest, right over his heart.
“First of all, I wasn’t lying on a couch. I was sitting in a very uncomfortable plastic chair, and I never really thought of myself as someone who’d spill his guts to a stranger, either. But it was that or possibly losing my life to drugs. So, I sucked it up and did what I had to do. And man, that woman did not take it easy on me. I hatedher throughout most of our sessions, but she made me a promise the first time we ever spoke, and fuck if she didn’t come through.”
“So, I guess I owe it to Dr. Corrigan that I now get to be in a healthy relationship with the most amazing man on the planet,” I tease, pulling him out of the past and firmly back into the present.
“I don’t know about that, but she certainly gave me a lot of valuable insight about myself.”
“What was the most important thing you took away from it?”
He lets his head drop against the headboard and briefly turns his thoughts inward, considering his answer.
“That drugs are nothing but a temporary crutch. That they can overpower all the negative feelings for a while, but they won’t ever solve the underlying problem. The reasons that had me reaching for them in the first place.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek and rolls his face toward me as I hang on his every word.
“That I’m enough. That my father was a miserable human being with many issues, and that nothing he did or said to me was my fault. That one took a little longer to sink in, but it’s slowly but surely taking hold.
“And that losing someone and not being able to grieve them the way you’re supposed to will eventually come back to haunt you. But—” he finishes, giving me a soft smile that hasmy insides tingling from the crown of my head all the way to the tips of my toes. “That’s something you don’t have to worry about. Your mother is a strong and resilient woman who has been given the best chance to beat this. She’ll get through this, and she’ll end up living a long and full life. I firmly believe that. Now I just need you to believe it, too.”
“You know, when you say it, I almost can,” I tell him, pressing my cheek to his warm skin and closing my eyes to soak up his quiet strength. Something about being here with Jake, wrapped up in the cocoon of his arms, makes me feel like reality can’t touch me. His soothing presence has some of the crippling anxiety I’ve felt since my mother’s diagnosis fall away. He makes me believe that everything will be okay because he’s there for me every step of the way. Suddenly, I feel drained. And before I have time to dwell on my mother’s condition further, I doze off, feeling safe and protected, despite the uncertain future ahead.
Twenty-Nine
Jake
“Tessa, where are you?” I call out as soon as I step in the front door, hoping my girl made use of the spare key I gave her during our weekend getaway. “I need a kiss for good luck,” I tag on, taking the stairs two at a time in my haste to locate her.
Tessa accompanied her mother to her second-to-last chemo treatment this morning and sent a text letting me know she’d meet me at my place to see me off. I’m about to head to Austin for a meeting that has the potential to provide me and my men with steady work for the next two-plus years, and possibly set us up for additional commercial building contracts. I’m both excited and more than a little nervous and want to make sure I get to the city with plenty of time to spare.
Entering my bedroom, I smile when I hear the sound of the shower going. If I wasn’t in a rush, I would’ve loved nothing more than to climb into the stall and ravish her until the water runs cold. As it stands, I can’t afford to be late. Making a quick pit stop in my office to grab the documents I’ve prepared, I pin the manila folder under my arm and take a moment to look around the room to make sure I’m not leaving anything of importance behind. I’m just about to turn away when I notice my laptop hasn’t been shut down properly. Backing up a couple of steps, I reach for the mouse pad and freeze, frowning down at the email lighting up my screen.
