"Levi Preston Cross!" My mom cried happy tears while she met us halfway. She took my face in her hands and pinched my cheeks, like I was a two-year-old and not twenty-six. "What is this?" she asked, pointing at the two-day growth on my chin.

"I'm trying something new, Mom. You don't like it?"

"I do not," she replied. I remembered her saying the same thing about my first tattoo, but now I had full sleeves and I never heard another word about them.

"But, Mom, all the guys are doing it," I said, teasingly, because that's something I used to pull on her when I was growing up. She didn't fall for it then, either. "I'm only joking. I just didn't take the time to shave this morning. I was in a hurry to get out here to see you!" I wrapped her in my arms and gave her a squeeze. "Mom, this is Peyton Frost." I wrapped my arm around Peyton's waist, pulled her in close to me, and placed a kiss on top of her silky, blond head. My mom stepped closer, and took Peyton's face in her hands, just like she'd done mine. Peyton froze like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to expect.

"You are absolutely beautiful dear!" My mom smiled and I could see Peyton visibly relax. It warmed my heart, when Peyton wrapped her arms around my mom and gave her a hug. I could tell that it made my mom happy, by the way that she beamed. This was why I loved my girl so much. "Come inside! Levi, take the bags upstairs, and Peyton, you can set the table, dinner is almost ready," she said, turning toward the door. I bent down and kissed Peyton on the lips.

"I told you she'd love you." She gave me a big smile, rolling her eyes at me. We stepped into the house and Peyton followed my mom into the kitchen, but I stopped and gazed around the den. Everything still looked the same, same pictures on the wall, and my trophies on the bookcase across the room. There were pictures of my dad in uniform, surrounded by his unit, as he received one of his many awards. I took the stairs and stood in the doorway to my old room. I'd love to have Peyton sleep in there with me, but I knew my mom, and she was old-fashioned. She'd never stand for that, even though I was a grown man. I dropped my black duffle bag on my bed and turned to cross the hall to the guest room, but Peyton was standing in the doorway. She took a minute to look around, taking everything in.

"Did she change anything about your room?" She smiled and looked up at me through thick lashes.

"Nope. Nothing. Everything is the same, right down to the blue, plaid bedspread. If I had to guess, my Hot Wheel’s track is around here, somewhere," I said jokingly, while looking under my bed. She walked around my room and looked at old drawings, which my mom had framed. There was my old notebook full of song lyrics, lying on my dresser, where I'd left it years ago.

"How cute!" She said, and I turned to find her looking at the picture of my dad and me, standing side by side, with our fishing poles. I had the biggest smile on my face because I'd just caught my first fish, a Sunfish. I didn't even remember how much it weighed, I just remembered it was about the size of the palm of my hand, and I'd caught it on my Spider-Man fishing pole. I gazed at the picture and my heart sank. I missed my dad so much.

"Dinner's in twenty minutes," Peyton said, wrapping her arms around my waist and hugging me tight. "I like your mom. She's sweet."

I bent and kissed her on the tip of her cute, little nose. "She likes you too."

"How can you tell?" she asked, then quirked a blond brow.

"Trust me. I know my mom, and she likes you," I said. "I hate to do this, but your room is across the hall," I said, cocking my head toward the door. She pouted her full, pink lips, causing me to laugh.

"Don't get any ideas, either. We used to call her ‘whisper 2000,’ because any time the guys were over, we couldn't even think about getting into trouble without her knowing about it, first. I'm telling you it's some weird shit!"

I winked, and my mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs. "Dinner's ready!"

"Be right down," I yelled.

"Did you get Peyton settled in the guest room?" I cocked a grin at Peyton, and her brows shot up.

"See what I mean? I think she reads minds!" I laughed and tossed her bag on the floor inside the guest room. "I'll have to try and not have any impure thoughts about you during dinner!" I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.

Mom was placing the last of the dishes on the table, when we entered the room. I inhaled deep. Oh, how that smell brought back memories. "Smells like heaven in here," I announced and pulled out my mom's chair for her to be seated, before doing the same for Peyton. She looked up at me, and grinned with appreciation and love in her eyes. We stuffed ourselves to the max, with my mom's chicken casserole and delicious, warm apple pie topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Then, we all headed into the living room and took a seat in front of the TV; only Mom didn't turn it on. She turned to me where I sat on the sofa, holding Peyton's hand.

"Levi, there's something I need to tell you, Son." Something in the tone of her voice told me that this was not something I wanted to hear. A knot formed in my stomach and it began to twist, as she said the words, I never thought I'd hear again. "The cancer is back." There it was, that fucking word, "Cancer." The knot in my stomach began to grow and a lump formed in my throat. "I haven't been feeling well for a while now, so when I went in for my check-up, I told Doc about it. He did some blood work, which led to other tests . . ."

"Mom, how long have you known?”

"A couple of months now. It's spread throughout my body, Son. The doctor suggested chemo. I might be old, but I'm not stupid. Mrs. Carson, up the street, had cancer all over her body a few years ago and chose not to take the treatments. I thought, I'd give it a try, but I'm really not expecting it to work, Levi."

I was on my knees now, in front of my mother, really seeing her this time. How I didn't see it earlier, I'd never know. Her skin was not only pale, but also had a yellow tint to it, and her hands and fingers were bony.

"You've known for a couple of months and didn't tell me! Why in the hell, would you keep that from me?"

"Language!" She slapped the arm of the chair. "You were at the end of your tour, I knew you'd be coming home soon, and I'd tell you then. It's a choice that was mine to make," she said with a tone that I knew meant not to argue with her.

"That's no way to think, Mom. You have to be positive that treatments can and will work. Your body reacts to emotions, in the way we fight off infections, and even heal. I've read that somewhere," I encouraged. She smiled sweetly and ran her fingers across the scruff on my chin again. "You make me so proud, you know. I always knew you'd grow up to be famous. I just wish your father had lived long enough to hear you sing. You have the voice of an angel, Son." Her eyes welled with unshed tears. It was all I could do to fight back my own. "When is your next treatment?"

"I had one yesterday and I have a mountain of pills to take everyday, so I'll go back in a couple of weeks for another treatment."

I awoke to the sweet smell of coffee and what I knew, was my favorite breakfast. What the hell? I jumped from bed, pulled on a pair of gym shorts, and bounded down the stairs. I should have been up, cooking breakfast for my mother, not the other way around.