“Who gets to kiss you?”

“You do.”

“Who’s missed you more than anything?”

I circle his wrist and move his hand, so I can lean in and hug him again. “You.”

As I say that word, all the stress from the past few days melts away. I feel better, but a new hurt starts to grow. One for Latson and what he’s going through.

“Come on,” I say and lead him toward the bed. I prop the puffy pillows against the headboard as he takes off his shoes. It’s just now that I notice he doesn’t have a bag or a suitcase with him. “Did you bring any clothes?”

“I left my backpack with Dean,” he says. “I’m only here for the night.”

I wish he didn’t have to leave so soon, but I know Oliver is weighing on his mind. Plus, arrangements need to be made for his mother. I crawl to the center of the bed and he joins me fully dressed. We scoot together, and I end up tucked against his side. He wraps his arm around my back, and I thread my legs through his.

“I don’t think you know how much you calm me,” he says.

I’m sure things haven’t been easy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Oliver. Your mom. Whatever you want.”

He’s quiet. My fingers find their way to his side and trace patterns over his shirt.

“You know,” Latson says, “I actually thought she was getting better.”

My tracing stops. “Before she fell?”

“After.” His arm tightens around my waist. “For about five minutes my mom was completely lucid. She asked about Oliver and his last day of school. She asked about the bar and Dean. I thought it was impossible for her to remember anything, but she was her old self. Her personality came back.”

I give him a tentative smile. “Then what happened?”

“My dad came into the room. She called him by name and he dropped his coffee. She laughed and called him a klutz. I haven’t heard that laugh in years.” He sighs and runs his palm over his tired eyes. “A few seconds later she asked where Audrey was. As fast as she appeared, she slipped away again. The fall didn’t help her disease. It couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It was stupid to think she was recovering. No one recovers from dementia.”

I lift my head and kiss the corner of his mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with having hope.”

His eyes meet mine. “I wish you could have met her. The real her, not the shell.”

“Me, too.” We study one another, until I say, “Although, in a way, I have met her. Part of her is in you.”

Latson scowls. “You’re wrong. She was a good person. I’m not –”

“Stop.” I cut him off. “You’re good.”

He gets sarcastic. “Does a good person use his mother’s illness against his parents to gain custody of his nephew?”

My mouth falls open. “What?”

“Does a good person fight with his drug addicted sister when he knows she will use any excuse to get high?”

I shake my head to sort out what he’s saying.

“That’s what I thought.” Latson lets his head fall back against the headboard. “I’m not my mother.”

No. “Hang on.” I sit up and kneel beside him. “You couldn’t love your nephew more if he was your own child. You give him everything. There was no choice but for you to take him. Your mother was sick and your dad works a million hours. He would’ve ended up with a nanny.”

“Mrs. Gibson is a nanny.”

I groan and let my head fall back in exasperation. How can he not see all the good he’s done?  “As far as Audrey goes, you fought with your sister. What brother doesn’t fight with his sister?  You had no idea she was going to OD. Knowing you the way I do, you were probably arguing with her to stop her from using. Am I right?”

The muscles in Latson’s neck tense. “I confronted her the night she died.”

“And?”

“Levi was in her suite. I knew there were only two things they could be doing: lines or fucking. Neither of which Oliver needed to see.”

My eyes grow wide. Hopefully he showed up in time. “You were fighting with her because you cared about her. Not to provoke her.”

Latson sets his jaw. “I knew she was unstable.”

“Your heart was in the right place.”

“I stormed out.”

“You were pissed.”

“If I had stayed she might still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“My father thought so. He said I killed her.”

Defeated, I let my shoulders sag. “I don’t understand how your father could accuse you of anything.”

Seconds pass before Latson takes a deep breath and reaches for me. “You know we never saw eye to eye on music,” he says as I settle into his side. “My dad was angry about a lot of things, and when he found out that I left Audrey after an argument, he said some really shitty stuff to get to me. When I got custody of Oliver, I cut him off.”

“Until now,” I say against his chest.

“No. Not until now. Until you.”

I look up at him, confused.

“My dad pulled me aside when you were admitted to the hospital.” He pushes my hair back from my forehead. “He tried to apologize and blame grief for his actions. I ignored him. I told him it was two years too late, asked him to take care of you, and left.”

I can tell his father’s words made an impact. “But you still listened.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what he said.”

Propping myself on my elbow, I lean forward and kiss him. “I’m glad.” I hope things work out. If not for him, then for O.

I curve my body against his and, after minutes of silence, I start to fall asleep. Latson is tired too, and that’s okay. His presence alone is comforting. I feel warm and safe surrounded by him, and that thought makes me realize just how hard I’ve fallen for this man. We don’t have to do anything but be together, and I feel sated. Yes, he has some baggage and I hate the sad circumstances that brought him here tonight, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make him feel better. I once told him his hurts are mine. I still believe that.

“Jen?”

I look up at him. “Hmmm?”

“Do you think you could come to the funeral?  I’d really like you to be there.”

“Of course. I’ll talk to Roxanne about it tomorrow. Whatever you need.”

Latson’s eyes lock with mine before he cradles the side of my face. He leans in slowly and gives me a tender kiss. “You,” he says. “I’m going to need you.”

~~~~

The following week, I pack a small bag to take to Chicago. The funeral is tomorrow, and I’ll be staying with Latson for two nights. Dean flew out ahead of me, to spend time with the family and attend his foster mother’s wake. The Union won’t be opening for Ariel in Atlanta because of our absence, but Dean and I will fly back together to pick up the tour in Nashville.

Opening the closet, I pull out the black dress Ariel helped me find. When I told her what had happened, she volunteered to go shopping with me for something appropriate. Being out in public with Ariel was a trip. She was in disguise, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, but a few people still recognized her. Before we left the hotel, she told me she wanted to visit a few baby stores, but we never made it. Luckily the madness started after we found what I was looking for.

I hang the dress up in the bathroom, so I can remove any wrinkles with the steam from a hot shower. I start to get undressed when someone starts pounding on the door like the hotel’s on fire. I jump at the sound and race to open it.

You have got to be joking.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m back.” Heidi crosses her arms and a shoots me a superior look. “I talked to Caleb.”

My eyes narrow. I thought I ran the chance of running into her in Chicago, not Atlanta. My tone is acerbic. “I don’t even want to think about what you did to get into his good graces.”

I start to shut the door, but she slams her hand against the wood to stop me. “We’re having a party tonight to celebrate.”

“And?”

“You’re not invited.”

Does she think that hurts my feelings?  I stare at her stupefied. “I’ll be sure to write that in my diary later.” I slam the door. Apparently, she feels vindicated. Fine. Whatever. Leave me alone.