Page 7 of Make Me Trust Again
My eyes adjust as the door opens, and a tall body emerges from the black pickup truck.
I tilt my head back and then back some more, taking in a plain black tee stretched over firm muscles and wide shoulders, all the way to piercing hazel eyes and scars that run over the side of his face. The face I’ve stared at way too many times when we were kids, and I was crushing on my best friend’s older brother.
CHAPTER TWO
CHASE
“How is she doing?” I ask the nurse, my head tilting to the side, but my gaze stays locked on the silver-headed woman sitting on a bench in the park, her gaze fixed toward the distance.
“Today’s been really hard, Mr. Williams.” Her voice is low, almost apologetic. “She was really upset this morning, but we finally got her to calm down a little while ago.”
I press my lips into a tight line, just as a body brushes against my leg. I drop my hand, my fingers sinking into the thick fur. Shadow licks my arm, her sole presence grounding me.
“Do you mind if I stay a little bit?”
“Mr. Williams, I?—”
“I won’t talk to her,” I reassure her.
“Just a few minutes.” The woman gives in with a sigh. “I can give you a call when she’s feeling better.”
Nodding, I move toward the set of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the inner park. Or was it the courtyard? The fuck if I know. It looks nice. Filled with trees and flowers, where people can tend the garden or just sit out in the open. Mom used to love to be out in the garden; it was one of the reasons we picked thisplace for her, on top of the exceptional around-the-clock medical care.
I watch Mom’s frail form on the bench. Her shoulders are slumped, and the dress she’s wearing looks like it’s about to swallow her whole. She must have lost some weight since the last time I was here. Not that it was surprising, sometimes she got so lost in the past she forgot to eat. Somebody braided her hair, letting it fall over her shoulder, the silvery strands shining under the bright sun, the vibrant red color now almost completely diminished, just like her spirit.
I clench my jaw as that familiar guilt finds its way to the surface, the longer I watch her.
Shadow must have felt it too because she nudges my hand in silent support. I rub between her ears; we stay like that for a while longer before I turn around. The nurse is talking with another woman, the two of them huddled together as they whisper amongst themselves. I nod in their direction as I make my way out of the building.
Pulling the door to my truck open, I wait for Shadow to jump inside first. She plops on the passenger seat and glances at me expectantly as I slide into the truck and turn on the engine.
Grumbling softly, I lower the window as I get on the road. Shadow sticks her head out immediately, her tongue hanging on the side of her mouth as she enjoys the wind on her face on the drive back to Bluebonnet Creek; my mind is still on my mother.
The happy and carefree woman that she was in my early childhood died alongside our father that day of the car accident. The two of them used to be that cheesy couple that was so freaking in love, even after years of marriage. It took her a long time to recover after that, years really, but when I left for the military, she was feeling better. Only when I came back did I find out how wrong I was.
She was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s a few years ago, but the illness had progressed recently to the point that she had more bad days than good ones.
These days, she was lost in the past more often than not, which caused her to be forgetful, get lost, and cause accidents around the house that could get her or somebody else hurt, which is why we had to put her in the medical facility so she could have somebody to take care of her twenty-four seven.
Becky had too much on her plate even before she had gotten a family of her own. Besides, she had already given too much of herself, jumping in after I was gone, taking care of our little brother and mother, who was clearly sick, but didn’t want any help.
And me?
I could barely take care of myself, especially in those early days after I just got home, much less somebody else.
But that doesn’t give me an excuse.
I should have been there for them, dammit.
I should have taken care of them.
Only I wasn’t there.
My jaw is set tight, fingers gripping the steering wheel as frustration sets in.
It should have been m?—
My thoughts trail off when I spot a white truck in the distance that’s parked by the side of the road.
