be, unlike Camille.”
“Camille is here?” Her jaw almost hit the floor. “I want to live your life for one day, just one day. I swear it has to be amazing.”
I snorted. “Yes, Camille is here. She’s not the most pleasant person. She’s living up to almost every stereotype.”
“Really?” she said, drawing out the middle of the word. “I never would have guessed. She’s always talked about as being such an awesome personality and all around great gal.”
I shrugged. “She’s not, and thank God I’m not working for her. Right after she showed up today—” I almost told her about the fight between Camille and Oliver.
“What! What!”
“Ugh, I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
“You suck.”
I smirked. “I know.”
Becca and I finished our conversation and called it a night, promising to get together again the following week for the next episode. As I saw her out, a cool gust of wind blew, carrying the scent of spring rain and something familiar. I stepped into the hallway and watched Becca until she was inside her apartment, and then the scent grew stronger.
Moments later, he stood at the top of the stairs.
“Vance?” He continued to come toward me with his head down but said nothing. “What’s wrong?”
Nine
Vance walked heavy footed toward me. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his head was tilted down, cast in a shadow.
“Vance? Is everything okay?” I dipped my head to find his eyes. When I found them filled with tears, my stomach clenched. “What happened?”
His chin quivered. “It’s Pop.”
He yanked me into him and wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders. His shirt was damp with sweat, and he buried his face into my neck as his chest began to twitch. I hoped it wasn’t what I thought and squeezed him tighter. My heart splintered inside my chest.
“I didn’t want to go home.” His shaky voice vibrated against my skin. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”
“I don’t care. Come inside and tell me what happened.” A lump developed in my throat looking at his red rimmed eyes, and I led him to the couch.
He held his head in his hands and wiped his tears. “Ma called me when I was out. She was hysterical, I could barely understand her. I’ve never heard her that upset before, not even after he had the heart attack.”
“What happened?”
“Pop had a blood clot in his lung. He was in a lot of pain. He couldn’t breathe.” His voice cut off.
“Is he…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
“He’s in the ICU now.” Being in the ICU wasn’t a good thing, but at least he was still alive, and for that, I was relieved. “They said it was a complication from his surgery. The clot started in his leg and traveled to his lung. They raced him to surgery again. I don’t know what I’m going to do if he dies.” Deep sobs racked his body.
I put my arm around him, and he rested his head against my chest. “He’s not going to die, you hear me?” I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his head in small circles like he always did for me. He clenched my shirt, and it pulled tightly across my abdomen. “How is he doing now?”
He sat up with blotchy skin. “He’s got all these tubes going into him, stuff is draining out. He looks awful.”
“He’s got DeLuca blood coursing through his veins. Don’t give up on him.”
He stared down at his hands. “I’m not giving up. I just can’t do anything to help him, and I hate it.”
I patted his knee. “I know how you feel and it sucks. How long is he supposed to be in the ICU?”
“Depends on how long it takes before he comes around. He could be down in a regular room tomorrow or he could die tonight.”
“He’s not going to die, you hear me? He’s got the best doctors in the city working on him.”
“Yeah, well, the problems don’t stop there.” He leaned his head back.
“What do you mean?”
“If he gets better from this, he’s going to need therapy
“Camille is here?” Her jaw almost hit the floor. “I want to live your life for one day, just one day. I swear it has to be amazing.”
I snorted. “Yes, Camille is here. She’s not the most pleasant person. She’s living up to almost every stereotype.”
“Really?” she said, drawing out the middle of the word. “I never would have guessed. She’s always talked about as being such an awesome personality and all around great gal.”
I shrugged. “She’s not, and thank God I’m not working for her. Right after she showed up today—” I almost told her about the fight between Camille and Oliver.
“What! What!”
“Ugh, I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
“You suck.”
I smirked. “I know.”
Becca and I finished our conversation and called it a night, promising to get together again the following week for the next episode. As I saw her out, a cool gust of wind blew, carrying the scent of spring rain and something familiar. I stepped into the hallway and watched Becca until she was inside her apartment, and then the scent grew stronger.
Moments later, he stood at the top of the stairs.
“Vance?” He continued to come toward me with his head down but said nothing. “What’s wrong?”
Nine
Vance walked heavy footed toward me. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his head was tilted down, cast in a shadow.
“Vance? Is everything okay?” I dipped my head to find his eyes. When I found them filled with tears, my stomach clenched. “What happened?”
His chin quivered. “It’s Pop.”
He yanked me into him and wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders. His shirt was damp with sweat, and he buried his face into my neck as his chest began to twitch. I hoped it wasn’t what I thought and squeezed him tighter. My heart splintered inside my chest.
“I didn’t want to go home.” His shaky voice vibrated against my skin. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”
“I don’t care. Come inside and tell me what happened.” A lump developed in my throat looking at his red rimmed eyes, and I led him to the couch.
He held his head in his hands and wiped his tears. “Ma called me when I was out. She was hysterical, I could barely understand her. I’ve never heard her that upset before, not even after he had the heart attack.”
“What happened?”
“Pop had a blood clot in his lung. He was in a lot of pain. He couldn’t breathe.” His voice cut off.
“Is he…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
“He’s in the ICU now.” Being in the ICU wasn’t a good thing, but at least he was still alive, and for that, I was relieved. “They said it was a complication from his surgery. The clot started in his leg and traveled to his lung. They raced him to surgery again. I don’t know what I’m going to do if he dies.” Deep sobs racked his body.
I put my arm around him, and he rested his head against my chest. “He’s not going to die, you hear me?” I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his head in small circles like he always did for me. He clenched my shirt, and it pulled tightly across my abdomen. “How is he doing now?”
He sat up with blotchy skin. “He’s got all these tubes going into him, stuff is draining out. He looks awful.”
“He’s got DeLuca blood coursing through his veins. Don’t give up on him.”
He stared down at his hands. “I’m not giving up. I just can’t do anything to help him, and I hate it.”
I patted his knee. “I know how you feel and it sucks. How long is he supposed to be in the ICU?”
“Depends on how long it takes before he comes around. He could be down in a regular room tomorrow or he could die tonight.”
“He’s not going to die, you hear me? He’s got the best doctors in the city working on him.”
“Yeah, well, the problems don’t stop there.” He leaned his head back.
“What do you mean?”
“If he gets better from this, he’s going to need therapy
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