A Forever Kind of Love (7 page)

“Not too late.” A faint smile curled Roger’s lips. “Timing is just about perfect.”
 

Closing his eyes, he sighed. The breath rattled in, out of his chest. “She never completely got over you either, I don’t think. We’ve had a good marriage, and I know she loves me. Marrying her, it was the smartest damn thing I ever did. But there’s always been a part of her heart that was yours.”

Now he opened his eyes up and the intensity of his gaze burned through Chase. “She’ll need time. But don’t wait too long. Go after her again, and this time, make her
yours
. Take her. Marry her. Make her happy. Part of her has always belonged to you anyway. Don’t screw it up this time.”

Chase’s heart slammed against his ribs. But he kept his face blank. He’d learned a long time ago not to show his emotions. “What?”

“You heard me.” Roger smiled. “You still love her, man. Don’t let guilt over me, or whatever, keep you away from her. I had a good life with her—something I wouldn’t have had if you’d stayed, if you’d taken her with you. I love her, and I want her happy. You can make her happy, I think. Do that. For me. For her…for
you
.”

“You want me with Zoe.”

“Why not? She was your girl,” Roger said simply. “She’s my wife, but I’m not going to get better. And she can’t follow me to the grave—I don’t
want
that. I want her happy. I want you happy. You two together…you’ll be happy. I know it.” He sighed and shifted on the bed, closing his eyes.

“You make it sound like this a done deal, Roger. But you seem to forget…Zoe’s got some opinion in this too. And for all you know, she doesn’t give a flying fuck about me anymore.”

“I know Zoe.” His eyes opened just a little, but there was a certain, sure light in those dark eyes. “Spent nearly fifteen years married to her while you were out doing whatever in the hell you felt you needed to do. I know what she wants, and what she needs.”

He grimaced, his thin face twisting with pain. He glanced at the IV rigged up next to him and muttered, “This shit isn’t doing much good any more, you know?”

Then he focused on Chase again. “I know what she needs, and when this is over, she’s going to need you.”

Then he closed his eyes, and with a deep, erratic sigh, he slipped into sleep.

She woke up to find Roger lying on his side, watching her.

There was a knee-jerk fear, one she couldn’t completely smash. More than two weeks had passed since the attack, but the bruises had yet to completely fade and she knew the memories, the nightmares, would take months—or longer—before they were gone completely.

But she didn’t let them show as she reached up and stroked a hand down his cheek.

He’d lost so much more weight. They probably weighed about the same now. It broke her heart just to look at him.

Forcing a smile, she cupped his cheek in her palm. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” he murmured, his voice low and warm with sleep, and thankfully, free from pain.
 

“Why are you awake?”

“Because I’m not asleep,” he said easily. He caught her wrist and nuzzled her palm. “I’ve just been laying here a while, watching you sleep. You’re so damn beautiful, Zoe. Sometimes I still can’t believe I’ve had you for the past fifteen years. How did I get that lucky?”

Tears stung her eyes. “I’ve been the lucky one. I love you.” She stroked her thumb over his lower lip and said, “You’ve made my life so wonderful.”

“
We’ve
made our life wonderful.” He kissed her hand then twined their fingers together, resting their hands between them. “We did it, Zoe. You and me.”

“Yeah. You and me.” Her heart ached, because she knew soon the
you and me
would be over.

Roger was dying. They had a few weeks together at most, maybe just days.
Their
life was almost over.

As though he was reading her mind, he squeezed her hand. “Don’t stop living, baby. This part’s winding down, but it’s not done for you. You’ve got your whole life yet, and there’s so much left for you to do. I don’t want you to stop living just because I’m going to be gone.”

Tears blinded her. The knot in her throat was going to choke her. “I don’t want to talk about this,” she whispered. Squirming closer, she pressed her head against his chest. She remembered, just a few months ago, how strong, how solid that chest had felt. Now, there was just skin stretched over bone. Cancer was eating away at him, killing him all too quick…stealing him from her. Closing a hand into a fist, she said, “I
can’t
talk about this right now.”

“Then when, Zo? Another few days, a week or two, it’s going to be too late. I think
hours
might be too late. I’m running out of time and you know it. I can
feel
it.”

The tears burning her eyes broke free and began to roll out of her eyes. But she said nothing as he stroked the back of her head. “You’ve spent the past few years taking care of your mom, the past few months taking care of me
and
your mom. Setting yourself, what you want, what you need off to the side.”

“I’m doing what I want, what I need. I’m here with you,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I’m here with
you
. That’s what I need, what I want.”

“I know.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “Just promise me, when this is over, that you won’t quit living. Don’t get wrapped up in your grief…don’t get too wrapped in taking care of your mom, in the store. Live your life, baby.”

He cupped her cheek and forced her to look up at him.
 

She stared into his eyes, saw that tender, gentle smile on his face.

“I want you to fall in love again. I want you happy. I want to think about you getting married, and maybe having kids. We didn’t get around to that and part of me regrets that something awful—too late for me. But not for you, baby.
Just live…
okay?”

She closed her eyes, swallowed until she thought she could talk without bawling. Then, with her eyes still shut, she murmured, “Roger, I can’t even think about that right now. I can barely think about how I’m going to get through losing you, much less what’s going to happen after. Oh, God…”

She started to sob.

His arms, still so strong, still so safe, came around her. “You’ll be fine, baby. You’ll be just fine.”

Four days later, with his head in her lap, Zoe was reading to him. His headaches were too severe for him to read anymore, but he loved listening while she read. She loved just having the time to spend with him.
 

She turned a page and reached down, stroking a hand down his shoulder. “I love you,” she murmured.

“Hmm. You too. Love you, Zo.” Then he sighed and whispered, “Tired.”

She set the book aside. “We’ll finish reading it later then.” She stayed where she was, absently caressing his arm, staring down at his face, watching as he drifted off to sleep.

She knew, then, somewhere inside.

Selfishly, she didn’t want to tell anybody.

But she did, gently easing her way out of the bed, straightening the covers. His parents were dead, but his sister and her husband, they would want to be here. James.

But that was all. Chase was already here. Those were the ones who mattered.

And those were the ones with Roger two hours later when Roger breathed his last.

Zoe was sitting in the bed with him, holding his hand. Chase stood at the window, staring outside. His sister, Bianca, sat in a chair on the other side of the bed, her husband behind her. James paced the room quietly.

He slipped quietly from this world. Too quietly, Zoe thought.

That final breath, she thought it just might shatter her.

She didn’t want to blink, didn’t want to look away.

If she did…

“Roger,” she murmured, stroking her hand down his face.

Bianca started to weep silently.

James came up to stand behind her, resting one strong, comforting hand on her shoulder.

But Chase was the one who began to quietly take action.

He was the one who made all the calls.

He was the one who handled it when other calls began to come in.

And when Roger was taken away and Zoe started to cry, he was the one who held her.

Chapter Six

When this is over, she’s going to need you…

Roger had been wrong. Other than those first few hours after Roger’s death, Zoe hadn’t needed him at all.

She’d handled all the arrangements without him.

She’d handled the funeral without him.

And now, two weeks after the funeral, she was handling packing up her home without him.

A lot of her furniture had already been put into storage or moved to the small apartment she was renting. The heels of his boots rang hollow on the hardwood floors as he moved through the house, looking for her. He vaguely recalled hearing somewhere that it was unwise to make major life decisions after the loss of a loved one…selling a home, changing a job.

Not that Zoe would much care.

Blowing out a breath, he finished searching the first floor and started up the back staircase, hoping to find her upstairs.

She wasn’t there, either.

He found her in the attic, kneeling in front of dust-covered boxes, her golden hair pulled into a ponytail, her face pale, her eyes tired.

“Hey.”

She glanced up at him, smiled. “Hey.”

“I see you’re not wasting any time clearing out of here.”

“No reason to,” she said, shrugging. “I can’t stay here. It’s too full of memories.”

“There might be a time when you want those memories back.”

She grimaced. “No. I’ll still have the memories. Moving won’t take them away.” She brushed her hair back from her face and said, “This is a place for a family, Chase. Roger and I…well, we’d thought about it, maybe were going to try later. It was always later. Now we won’t have a chance for later. And I don’t want to walk around inside these four walls and think about the ‘later’ we lost.”

Put that way, hell, he couldn’t blame her.

Settling down on the ground in front of her, he peered inside one of the cardboard boxes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and looked around, staring at the various boxes. “There is just so much stuff. Roger kept everything. The clothes and stuff, I’ll just give to Goodwill, but the other stuff? His books? His golf clubs?”

She slanted a look at him. “You play golf?”

“Only under extreme duress.” He studied the golf clubs and said, “You can ask my dad. He plays. He might like them. Sentimental stuff, if nothing else.”

Looking back at her, he had to fight to keep from reaching for her. Had to fight to keep from pulling her into his arms. Just to hold her. Just to cuddle her. She looked so tired…so worn and exhausted.

In the back of his mind, he thought about what Roger had told him. What Roger had said. Wondered what Zoe would say.

She needed time…time to heal, time to mourn.

Chase just needed her, the same way he needed her the past few months—hell, the past fifteen years, but he’d been too damn stupid to see it.

Jamming his hands in his pockets, he paced the floor, staring at the boxes, the odds and ends of the past fifteen years of her life.

Abruptly, he turned and stared at her.

“Why did you marry him, Zoe?”

Her hands stilled.

Then she went back to the task at hand, sorting through a box as though it was the sole focus of her life. “Is that really any of your business, Chase?” she asked softly.

“You married him two months after I left,” he said, his voice bitter. Angry. Far more bitter, far more angry than he had a right to be, he knew. But two months—two fucking months.

“What would you have done if I’d come back?” he asked, feeling hollow inside as he stared at her bowed head.

Zoe laughed sadly. “What ifs. You know how empty those are? What ifs.” She sighed and shoved the box aside. “What if you’d never left…or what if you’d taken me with you?” She sighed and drew her knees up. She stared at him and he waited for her to answer, waited so long he didn’t think she was going to. But finally, she did. “Now there is a question,” she murmured, she looped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on her upraised legs. With dark, wide eyes, she studied him. “And it’s a good one. If you’re so torn up about me marrying him, Chase, then you answer my question, and I’ll think about answering yours. Why didn’t you take me with you?”

One hand curled into a tight, impotent fist, Chase turned away, staring out the small slit of a window, out into the clear, cloudless sky. “I thought about it. For close to a year, I woke almost every damn day wanting to call you, ask you if you’d come join me, even when it wasn’t possible. Shit. You were too much a part of me, Zoe. Eighteen years old and I couldn’t breathe without feeling you, thinking of you. Sometimes it scared the shit out of me.”

“You left me because you thought about me too much?” she asked, lifting a brow.

“I left because I had to get out. I didn’t deserve you, you know.” He turned to look at her, aching inside. “I didn’t realize it then, but I didn’t deserve you. I never did. I was selfish, an immature brat of kid but one thing I did right—I
did
know you’d go with me. I knew that then. But I didn’t ask. It didn’t seem right to ask. How fair would it have been to drag you along when I didn’t even know where in the hell I was going?”

“Maybe you were looking at it wrong,” she suggested. “If I was with you, the where wouldn’t have mattered.”

Then she stood up, absently dusting off the seat of her pants.

She moved to stand by the larger window, staring outside. Her shoulders slumped and she reached up, rubbing at the spot between her eyebrows. “You were gone, Chase. I didn’t have much of anybody. I had the scholarship to U of L, but it wasn’t going to cover everything and I didn’t have the money to cover anything else. Two days after graduation, my mother threw me out and—”

“What?”

She glanced back at him, a strained, tired smile on her face. “You heard me. I was over the age of eighteen and I was out of school. As far as she was concerned, she’d done her duty with me and she no longer needed to burden herself with me. I…” She paused, blowing out a harsh breath. This wasn’t easy to talk about, even now…and there were secrets that she wouldn’t share with him. Secrets she couldn’t share.