Forgotten Promises (The Promises Series Book 2) (25 page)

Mom shouts up that the flights are booked and that we need to leave within the next two hours. I figure that gives me ten minutes to pack, and the rest of the time to spend fooling around with the sexy little nerd currently lying on top of me.

“You need to call the guys and tell them the score. You should be at practice in an hour,” Blair announces, and it’s good she did, because it had slipped my mind. Jackson will be pissed; he’s keen as hell to get as many hours banked as possible. I think he’s still secretly hoping we’re going to get signed. Our manager, Sam, seems to think it’s a real possibility, and Jackson has pinned all his hopes on me changing my mind about going to Eastman if we do land a contract. I’ve told him before that college is my priority, and it still is. In fact, the thought is more appealing now than ever before. It will be great to finally leave this place behind.

“I’ll call them in a minute; I have something important to do first.”

She lifts her head from my chest.

“Like what?”

I flip her and pin her underneath me in one quick movement. She looks completely disorientated, and I take the opportunity to carefully remove her glasses, leaning over and placing them on my cabinet beside me. I push my fingers through her long dark messy hair and lower my mouth to hers. Kissing her is like a drug; the more I do it, the more I need to do it. It’s an addiction and I have no intention of kicking the habit. I gently draw her bottom lip into my mouth and suck on it; she has the most amazing lips. They’re tantalizingly soft and full and I love that they always have a hint of her cherry lip balm flavor.

I have to force myself to cut the kissing short; it's awakened all my senses, and if I carry on, I’m not going to be able to stop. Which is kind of a problem, seen as how my mom’s in the other room. She wriggles underneath me, and I’m instantly hard. Her eyes widen when she realizes this and I groan at the prospect of having to get up, pack and leave her here. I place one last quick kiss on her nose then jump up and head into my bathroom. I need to throw some cold water on myself and get myself sorted. I peer out of the door and can see that Blair’s still rested on my bed with her hair draped across my pillows. Yeah, going to need lots and lots of cold water.

I’M SITTING IN my car outside Emily’s house. I’ve only been here once since she died, and it felt so wrong to be surrounded by all of her things, and not have her there. I’ve made excuses to avoid visiting with Pam and Bill, but I know it’s not fair of me. I promised Em that I would still come and see her parents, especially her mom. The conversation we had about it is one I’ll never forget.

“So I need to ask you a favor. I’m really hoping that you will agree to this because it’s probably one of the most important things I’ll ever ask you to do,” Em tells me as she sets her pumpkin-flavored coffee on the dark wood table of the café and leans back into the huge tan leather sofa we’re both lounged on.

“Okay, sounds ominous,” I say taking a sip of my hot chocolate and hugging it tight to my chest. “Shoot.”

She looked so frail at that point; her cheeks were sunken, and she’d lost all the plumpness to her skin. The cancer had made her look older, somehow. It couldn’t, however, detract from how pretty she was. It was only a couple of months before she died, and her chemo had been stopped. Her hair had begun growing back since her last cycle had finished, and was now a pretty choppy pixie length. It looked good. I’m sure to any passerby she looked like any other teenage girl. Just a painfully thin one.

“I’ve been worrying about my parents, and my mom in particular. My dad, he’s strong. I know that when I go, he’ll be the rock that pulls my mom through. It’s her that I worry the most about. I hate the thought that she’s not going to be a mom anymore an—”

I raised my hand signaling for her to halt, and she rolled her eyes dramatically.

“You’ll always be her daughter, even when you’re not here. Gosh, Em, she will always be your mother. That doesn’t change when someone dies.”

I’m not sure what it was that had me so worked up, but hearing her speak those words, they squeezed painfully at my heart so tightly that I wanted to scream.

“Blair, I know that, but my mom lives for me; you know how she is. I’m her whole life, and that scares me more than dying. When the time comes…what will she do? Who will she live for? She gave up work to care for me so it’s not like she can immerse herself in that to keep her busy. She’s not really in contact with any of her old friends, and all her new ones are cancer moms. I’m pretty confident that she won't be able to keep going into the hospital to meet with them when I die, because it will be too raw for her. That’s the last place I’d want to be if it were me, don’t you think?”

I nodded my head but stayed quiet. I knew that if I tried to respond, my voice would crack and I’d be a blubbering mess in the middle of Starbucks.

“I want you to go visit with her sometimes. She’s so used to you being at our house; you’re a part of our family and I know without a doubt she’d hate it if you stopped seeing her. She thinks of you as a daughter, she always has. You’re in all of our family photo albums.”

“Of course, I’ll visit your parents. You should know that I wouldn’t just stop. They’re like my second mom and dad. I love them.”

“Oh, Blair…thank you.”

She ambushed me with a tight hug, and we sat for a long time in that embrace, both trying to hold back our tears.

I feel instantly guilty that I’ve not come back sooner. The memory of my best friend is the kick I needed, and I unbuckle my belt and jump out of the car before I can give myself time to change my mind.

“Blair, sweetheart!”

Pam’s voice booms as she flings the front door open and rushes down the path to intercept me with a squeeze. Her blonde hair is billowing in the breeze and she looks so much like Em that it hurts to see her.

“Hi Pam! How are you?”

“I’m fine, but never mind about me—how are you? Goodness baby girl, when your mom called and told Bill that you’d been involved in that crash…it was awful. We were both so worried about you. I’ve called Susan every day for an update on you.”

“I’m okay; I escaped pretty lightly,” I tell her as she steers me into the house that is the setting of so many of my childhood memories. There are pictures on every wall of Em, and I’m in a lot of them too. It feels nice and familiar to see them again. I spend a good two hours talking with Pam about what I’ve been doing since Em passed. I tell her about Ethan and me. I was a little worried at first; Pam knew all about Em’s crush. She seems genuinely happy that we are together, though. It’s a weight off my mind that I didn’t even realize I was carrying. She tells me all about the volunteer work she’s begun at the hospital and the support group that she and another of the moms that has gone through the same thing have set up. I’m so proud of her and I know Emily would be, too. She’s doing amazingly well. We both have a moment where we allow our tears to fall as we retell silly stories, and it feels so good to let it out. I’m about to leave when Pam announces that she’s started to pack Emily’s bedroom up. The thought upsets me. I realize that it needs to be done, and I’m sure it’s a lot harder for Pam and Bill to do than it is for me to hear about. It still aches so bad to know I’ll never see her again and that this isn’t some holiday that she’s on. She won’t be home soon; it’s forever, and it’s horrible.

“There are a few things in her room—pictures, journals, etcetera. I can’t keep them, but I don’t want to just throw them away. Would you want to take a look? Maybe you’d like to have some of them?”

“Yes!” I blurt out. The thought of her things being tossed out doesn’t sit well with me at all.

“Okay, sweetheart, why don’t you go and have a look around her bedroom. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’ve finished.”

I nod and make my way through the back of the house to her room. I open the door, and I’m hit with the smell of her. It hasn’t gone; it lingers as if she were in here only yesterday and it knocks me back. I wasn't expecting it. I sit on her desk chair and stare at her huge lilac room; it looks so bare without her in it. I’m not sure how long I spend looking at her things and reminiscing about every piece I come across, but it feels like a long time. I use one of the storage boxes leaning against the wall and fill it with a pile of old journals. Em was religious about keeping a diary. I tried once; I wrote in it for maybe a week and then lost interest. I’m a reader, not a writer.

I place two pictures of us in the box along with Collin, a threadbare ratty old stuffed dog that she used to cart everywhere when we were in kindergarten. Her dad had to pay her to stop taking it to school. She took it everywhere, and Pam used to have to steal it from her bed at night to wash it. I’m suddenly sad that it wasn’t buried with her. I decide that Collin can come live with me. I know Ethan will tease me about it, but I don’t care. I check my cell quickly at the thought of him. He’d texted me last night to let me know he’d gotten to Arizona and was planning on visiting with his father today. My tummy twists at how anxious he must be. I know he doesn’t want to do it. He told me he would call once he’d spoken with him. I’m still waiting, and the more time that passes the queasier I feel. I really hope that everything went okay.

I say my goodbyes to Pam and promise to check in again when Bill is home. She laughs when she sees Collin peeping out from the box I’m holding. She tells me not to be a stranger as she walks me out to my car and I mentally kick myself for staying away this long. I miss her, and I miss my best friend.

THIS ISN’T WHAT I was expecting; not that I had any pre-conceived notion of what would happen but I’m just thrown, I guess. We arrived after visiting hours last night, so we stayed at the hotel and got some sleep. Well, no, that’s a lie; tossed and turned all night wondering what to say to my dad is more accurate. Is it wrong to unleash eighteen years’ worth of hurt to someone that might be dying? I spent a long time wondering if I should try being civil, pleasant, and that way if he did die, maybe he would go in peace. The trouble with that scenario is that he’d get to leave thinking that everything is okay, and it’s not.