Needing Nevaeh(Rockers’ Legacy Book 2)(6)

She liked a simple life, one in which she took care of every aspect of her own life. It didn’t matter that she and Dad had millions in the bank, or that she was PopPop’s only heir and would one day inherit all his money and everything else tied to Cole Steel’s name, including his share of the Steel Entrapment brand that still brought in a decent profit every year.

As expected, my room was exactly as I’d left it during my last visit, which had been for a few short weeks over the summer. The bed was perfectly made, with all my favorite stuffed animals against the pillows. My favorite Demon’s Wings poster, which had my mom and all the other Demon wives on it instead of Dad and my uncles, was hanging up on the wall over my desk, reminding me what a badass woman looked and acted like.

My desk had a stack of books on the edge along with my desktop computer. There wasn’t a single speck of dust in the entire room, telling me that Mom had come in at least once a week to clean. It also told me that Arella and my other siblings had thankfully stayed out.

Which was a good thing, so I didn’t have to kill any of them, especially Arella.

After washing up and changing my clothes, I walked downstairs to the smell of Mom already cooking. The scent of garlic bread and rich tomato sauce filled the air, and I followed my nose to the kitchen, where she was standing over the stove, making a huge pot of spaghetti.

As I entered the room, Mom didn’t immediately notice my presence, and I saw just how tense her shoulders were. Her head was bent, as if the weight of the world were pressing down on her and she couldn’t find the strength to hold it up any longer.

I’d never seen my mom like that before. She was a strong woman, my first and true mentor, and I couldn’t comprehend what could be so wrong that she couldn’t hold her head up.

“Mom?” I asked and watched her jump.

Turning to face me, she laughed and pressed a hand to her chest. “You scared the hell out of me, Nev. Damn, I guess I’ve gotten so used to you not being home that I forgot for a second. Sorry, sweetheart. Do you need something?”

“For you tell me what’s wrong,” I told her, not buying for a second that she’d forgotten I was in the house.

Her smile died, and she turned back to dinner. “Nothing’s wrong, silly.”

“Mom.”

“Okay, maybe I’m feeling my age because tomorrow I will actually have an eighteen-year-old child.” She laughed again, but I could easily hear the strain in it.

“Seriously, Mom. Since when do you worry about your age?” I knew she was lying, but for the moment, I would let her pretend. If she didn’t want to tell me, then maybe Daddy would let me know what was wrong with her.

“It’s a new development.” Mom played it off with a wave of her hand. “I’ve realized that with one child out in the world finding herself, the others will soon follow. And then all too soon, it will just be me and your father in this huge house with no babies to care for.”

There was real sadness in her voice now, and it made my heart clench for her. “Relax, Mom. I’m sure by the time Damien is out of the house, at least one of us will have given you grandkids to spoil.”

She shot me a wicked grin over her shoulder. “Maybe sooner than expected if you and Braxton figure yourselves out.”

“Mom…” I whined even as the thought produced the most unusual feeling of rightness I’d ever experienced. “Please do not say shit like that in front of Daddy.”

Laughing, she bent and pulled a pan of crusty garlic bread out of the oven. “Go set the table. It’s us and Dad for dinner, and he just called to say he was on his way. Should be here in less than twenty minutes.”

Doing as I was told, I grabbed the plates and silverware and set the kitchen table since it was just the three of us. There was a huge table that could potentially seat fifty in the gigantic dining room that we only ever used when we had family dinners with our extended family. But that didn’t happen often, so the dining room table was more often than not an arts and crafts table that Mom and Arella constantly had covered.

By the time Mom had placed a bowl of salad on the table, I heard the front door open.

Surprised that he hadn’t come in through the garage, I took off running and threw myself into Daddy’s arms the second I saw him. He let out a pained groan as I squeezed him, and I laughed, thinking he was playing around.

Until I looked up at his face and saw his skin was gray, and even though he was grinning down at me, he couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I hurriedly apologized. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured me, kissing the top of my head and giving me a squeeze in return. “I’ve missed you so damn much.”

“Dray, dinner is ready,” Mom called out.

“Coming, Angel.” Tossing one arm around my shoulders, he guided me back into the kitchen. “Let me wash my hands, and we can eat.”

I took my place and picked up my napkin while Mom dished out the spaghetti onto each of our plates. As Daddy joined us at the table, he kissed her temple, telling her he loved and missed her. She leaned into the touch of his lips, and before she closed her eyes, I thought I saw a sheen of tears in her honey-brown eyes.

But when she opened them again, it was gone, making me wonder if I’d imagined it.

“How did work go today?” she asked as she took her place at the table and reached for the salad dressing.

“We finally decided on what sound we wanted to go with for that song Nik and I have been working on all week,” Daddy told her before stuffing his mouth full with spaghetti. “It sounds wicked.”

I listened to them talk as I ate, watching them both. But the longer dinner went on, the more tension I could feel radiating from both of my parents. It set my nerves on edge, and I began to watch them even more closely.

That’s when I started noticing the changes in Daddy. There were bruises on his right forearm, which surprised me because I couldn’t ever remember him having a bruise on him. It took longer to notice the weight loss because it was subtle, but eventually, I did.

And that was when I noticed the slight discoloration of his eyes. They had a yellow tinge to them.

“Are you sick?” I blurted out, unable to stop the words.

Mom’s fork made a loud clank as it hit her plate, her fingers having lost their hold on it as soon as I opened my mouth. Daddy’s eyes met mine, and I read the answer there even as he reached over and covered Mom’s shaking hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We wanted to tell you ourselves,” he said with a grim twist of his mouth. “Yes, Nevaeh. I’m sick.”

“But…” I swallowed hard, feeling tears burning my eyes. My mind ran through the list of visible symptoms I could see. Bruising. Weight loss. Jaundice. I’d hurt him when I hugged him earlier, and I tried to remember exactly where my arms had been when I’d squeezed. But I wasn’t a damn doctor, and nothing was coming to mind because I wasn’t studying to go into the medical field. “What’s wrong with you?”

He glanced at Mom and sighed heavily before turning his gaze back to me. “Remember when I had that fender bender back in August? It was right after you went back to Virginia for the fall semester.”

“You said you didn’t get hurt,” I recalled aloud.

He’d been a passenger in Uncle Jesse’s SUV along with my other uncles when they’d gotten rear-ended on their way home from the studio. No one had gotten hurt from what Mom told me right after it happened.

“The seat belt caused some bruising across my abdomen, and I started having some pain. A lot of pain, if I’m being honest. Your mom made me go in for tests.” He swallowed hard and let out a strained laugh. “My past caught up with me, sweetheart. All those years of drinking caused some pretty significant damage. I have Stage 4 liver disease. I’ve had it for decades and didn’t even realize it. If it weren’t for the accident, I still might not have found out.”

“What?” I didn’t understand, or maybe I just didn’t want to understand. My mind couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that he was sick, let alone what disease he had. But it was starting to make sense, even though I really didn’t want it to. Because if there was a name for his illness, a diagnosis, then that made it real.

And I didn’t want it to be fucking real.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Mom finally spoke, but her voice was thick with tears. “Because Daddy is getting a new liver, and he will be just fine.”

I blinked at her in surprise. “Do you know how long people are on those damn transplant lists?” That much, I did know. “It could take years before he gets one and—”

“Uncle Shane is giving me part of his, Nev,” Daddy interrupted before I could start spouting off statistics.

“Really?” I whispered and finally lost the battle against my tears, letting them flow freely. “Are you sure he’s a good enough match? If he’s not, I’ll give you part of mine, Daddy. I know we have the same blood type. Surely we would be a better genetic match.”

“We’ve already had all the tests done, honey. He’s a positive match.”