Chapter 20

VIVIANNE

The drive takes a little longer than three hours. When we pull up to my childhood home, my stomach flips, then twists into tight, aching knots.

I glance at Liam. “It’s not much,” I say, my voice quieter than I mean it to be.

I look at the house. It hasn’t changed. The gray-blue siding still stares back at me, dull and weathered.

The front deck sags, the wood warped and sinking into the ground. One window is covered with a piece of cardboard, taped around the edges, fluttering a little in the wind.

The yard is overgrown, patches of grass taller than the rest.

We never had much growing up. What little money we did have never went into fixing up the house. Dad said it was a waste of time. When he left, Momma didn’t have the time or money—and too much pride to ask for help.

“Viv?” Liam’s voice is soft. He’s looking at me gently, waiting. “I asked if you’re ready to go in?”

I nod, then pause. “My family’s a little…much,” I say, wishing I could hide all this from him. I’m glad he came, but I don’t want him to see it.

“And my brother, he’s very—” I stop, mulling over my next words but finding nothing that fits. “Well…much,” I say again. A small bubble of giggles escapes.

Liam smiles. “Viv, really—it’s okay. Let’s go in. Let’s say hi. We’ll do this at your pace. I’m just here for you.”

“Thank you, Liam,” I whisper. I nod to myself, then reach for the door handle.

I knock twice before letting myself in.

The walls are the same faded yellow color. The old couch—the one where I kissed Nicolas Rauster for the first time—sits in the same spot, now covered with an old blanket.

Pictures line the hallway, their frames crooked and dusty. My second-grade school picture. Marcus on his bike, Momma pushing him from behind. Rebecca riding a carousel at the fair, grinning, her hair flying.

That was the summer before Marcus was supposed to leave for college.

I looked over the rest of the pictures—proms, Marcus’s wedding, little moments Momma thought were worth remembering.

The house smells old, like damp wood and something stale, like the windows haven’t been opened in months. The place is a mess, the way it always was. Momma never had time to clean.

She did her best—or what she thought was her best—but there never were enough hours in the day.

Rebecca’s sitting on the tan couch, watching something on a too-small TV. When she finally sees me, she jumps up. Her shoulder-length hair bounces as she runs over. She looks just like Momma. Same almond-shaped green eyes.

“Vivianne!” she shrieks, then slaps a hand over her mouth, cheeks growing red.

“Becca,” I say, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I missed you. All of you guys!” I say, squeezing her harder, my heart squeezing with me. “How’s Momma?”

“She’s not good, Viv. I can see that for myself.” Her voice drops. “Doc says she’s really sick, but neither of them will tell me what’s going on.”

“Doc? As in Dr. Newman?” At least she’s still seeing him. As stubborn as Momma is about doctors, I’m surprised she let him in the house.

She nods hard against my shoulder, then pulls away.

“I didn’t know he made house calls either, but he said he’d come, and he did. I didn’t know who else to call. Momma wouldn’t let me take her to emergency care, and M—”

“Bec, stop. Okay?” I hold her by the shoulders. I can feel the tension in her body. “I’m here now. I’m here to help.”

Her lip trembles as I glance back at Liam.

“This is my—” I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. “My boyfriend. Liam.”

Rebecca gives me a tiny smirk and shifts her weight, angling her hip at me, suddenly all teenager.

It’s hard to believe she’s a senior in high school now. Not quite an adult but not really a kid anymore either. The thought makes my heart ache. My little sister, all grown up.

“Hello,” Liam says, reaching out a hand.

She shakes it, a faint red washing across her features. I swear she bats her eyelashes.

“Where is she?” I ask, looking between Liam and Rebecca, who’s still flushed.

“Her bed. She’s resting. Doc’s orders.”

“What else did he say?”

“Not much. Wouldn’t stick around long. Said he had other patients waiting.” Her smile fades, and I want to pull her back into my arms.

Doc Newman isn’t the easiest to deal with on a good day. I can only imagine how cold he was when they needed answers.

“Okay, I’m going to say hello to Momma, and then I’m going to find Doc and get some answers.” Rebecca nods and sits back down on the couch, folding her hands between her knees.

Liam stays with her, sitting on the opposite end of the worn couch.

I steady myself before walking to the end bedroom down the hall. The door to Momma’s room is closed. I stop in front of it. My chest is tight.

What was I going to find?

I hadn’t seen her in a whole year. A lot could change in that time.

I knock lightly. “Momma?”

“Come in.”

Her voice is weak—thin. It hits me like a wave of cold water.

I push open the door slowly.

She’s in bed, tucked under a quilt, her arms limp at her sides. A stack of pillows props her up, but even then, she looks small. Fragile.

“Momma?” My voice cracks.

She opens her eyes and smiles. It’s slow, but real.

“Come here, my little bug.”

The nickname breaks me. The tears I’ve been holding back rush forward.

She’s so pale. Her skin looks almost see-through. Her cheekbones are sharper, and even smiling seems like it takes an effort. Nothing like the last time I saw her—just a year ago, when she was still laughing, still teasing.

I drop to my knees beside her bed. Resting my head on the covers, I take her hand. It’s cold.

“I love you, Momma.”

“I love you too, Bugs.”

I swallow hard. “I have to go for a while, but I’ll be back later tonight, okay? I’m going to take care of everything.”

I pull myself together. I lock my emotions up tight, build my walls back up, and push to my feet. She’s already drifting off by the time I step out of the room.

I don’t let myself cry again.

Not yet.

Tomorrow, I’ll talk to Dr. Newman.

Maybe then I’ll know just how bad it is and what needs to be done to fix this.