Page 16 of Every Little Kiss
“It will always hurt,” Liv said, her hand going to her ring finger, a brief moment of confusion still coming when she found it naked. Her heart racing as if she’d lost it. “But as time goes on, the hurt is what triggers the good memories.”
The debilitating pain that made breathing difficult would lessen until it became a warm ping in the back of her heart. And it was only then that she’d realize that love didn’t hurt, but the act of trying to kill it did. And once Carolyn stopped trying to drown it out, she’d find her peace—just like Liv had after her mother died.
Liv waited until Carolyn was pulling out of the driveway before fishing her cell from her purse. She took a long swallow of wine, then called backup.
“How did camp go?” Avery said in greeting. Liv let out a sigh. “That bad, huh?”
Telling herself that it was five o’clock somewhere, Liv took a sip of wine. “He’s hiding in his room.”
“If I was forced to spend the afternoon with Carolyn, I’d hide in my room too.”
Liv laughed, and it felt good. Then she immediately sobered. “It’s not that. He told her he didn’t want to go back to camp.”
“What are you going to do?” When Liv remained silent, Avery said, “You know that he’s going to be fine no matter what, right? He will get through this because you’re a good mom, who will be right beside him every step of the way.” Avery’s conviction came from someone who had faced death and kicked its butt. They’d met the first week Liv had started at Mercy General. Liv had been working in the ICU, and Avery was waiting on a kidney transplant. They connected over shared loss of a loved one and bonded over a love of cupcakes. “And didn’t his doctor say that nearly all kids outgrow this?”
“Yes,” Liv admitted. “But maybe holding his hand will prolong his healing time. Or maybe I’m pushing too hard too soon.” So what if he started kindergarten at seven? Why was that such a big deal? “Or what if I’m doing everything wrong?”
“What if you’re both just having a rough day and all you need is some time to process?” Avery said, and Liv wanted to cry.
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I can’t be,” Avery said with conviction. “Because Paxton is loved. And he’s safe. And you will both come out of this stronger than ever.”
Liv did love him, with every ounce of her soul, but she sometimes wondered if that was enough.
Liv opened the oven to check the casserole. The second the scent hit her nose, she gagged and then slammed the door shut. “Want to come over after work for dinner? There’s plenty.”
Avery paused. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a casserole involved?”
“And wine,” Liv said cheerfully.
“No way. I just got a new kidney.” Liv’s friend hadn’t just received a new kidney. The miracle transplant had given Avery a future that didn’t have an expiration date stamped on it. “Without a spare, I’m not willing to risk it. Life’s too short for one of Carolyn’s concoctions.”
Words to live by, Liv thought, fanning the pungent air. When that didn’t help, she lit a candle.
“Plus, I’m checking off another wish in my living journal. Rhonda Sparks spent all year working on a signature dish for that Sequoia Lake’s Hottest Chef contest, but she’s in the middle of her radiation treatments and can’t stand the smell of food. I said I’d use her recipe to perfect the meal and enter it for her.”
Shortly after Avery was given a second lease on life, she’d created a living memory journal filled with the wishes and dreams of women who would never get their second chance. Living out their dreams was Avery’s way of honoring them—and paying forward all the love and support she’d received through her recovery.
“What are you making?” Liv asked into the mouthpiece.
“Rhonda said her favorite episode was when the person made a flat-iron steak with a red pepper sauce, cayenne sweet potato mash, and green beans with bacon,” she said. “I’m doing a practice run. My kitchen is a disaster, but the red pepper sauce is amazing.”
Liv’s stomach growled at the thought of a home-cooked meal that didn’t involve canned fish. “If you need a judge—”
A loud crash came from upstairs, followed by a child’s cry. Liv’s skin prickled, and all the exhaustion from earlier was replaced with heart-pumping adrenaline.
“What was that?” Avery asked, since the sound was invasive enough to be heard over the phone. She might have even heard it across town.
“Paxton,” Liv hollered as her feet sprang into action. She was up the stairs and rounding the hallway when she heard another scream. She burst through the bedroom door, her worry clogging her throat, and then she came to a full stop.
Because there on the floor, peeking out from beneath a fort made of Superman sheets and a matching comforter, were two sock-free feet, a thin beam of light, and a big bushy tail—that moved. But it wasn’t the unexpected sight of a dog in her house that had her pausing. It was the sounds coming from inside the makeshift hideout.
It was so foreign she had mistaken it for a cry for help, when in fact it wasn’t a cry at all.
“Liv?” Avery said, and Liv could hear her friend’s keys jingling in the background, as if she was already heading over to the emergency.
“It’s fine,” Liv said, her voice wavering. “Pax is. I thought he was screaming, but ...” She trailed off, unable to speak through the sudden shift in emotion.
