Before You(26)

“Sure. Do you need any help packing?”

“I’m good. I only have a couple bags.” She rubbed her eyes tiredly.

“Don’t be mad at me. I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I’ll call my mom and dad so they know what’s going on,” Cam said with a faint smile.

“I’m not. Things just seem a little… complicated between us right now.”

“Babe, I don’t want you to feel like that. No matter how complicated our lives get, I’ll always make time for you. I love you. ”

Bre cringed at the pet name again. She didn’t know why Cam thought she liked being called babe rather than her name. In her opinion, the word came across as condescending, almost as if he were trying to placate her irrational behavior.

“I know you love me, but sometimes it doesn’t feel as if that’s enough to keep us together.”

“Bre—” Cam said, drawing out her name.

Bre held up her hand. “I don’t want to get into this right now. I can’t juggle our problems and my grandma at the same time.”

Cam folded his arms across his chest. “Is she really dying or is your mom being dramatic?”

“I don’t know. According to the doctor, she only has a few days, if that.”

“Bre, that sucks. I know your grandma is a hard person, but I know you respect her and care for—no—love her.”

Cam’s words made her eyes burn with tears again. “You’re right. I love her. Do you think you’ll make it to the funeral?”

“If there’s any way to make it work, I’ll be there.”





Chapter Ten





Three days later, Bre sat in a torn gray chair in the hospital waiting room. It was nearly 10:00 AM, and the hospital staff ignored her as they went about their day.

She arrived an hour ago with her best friend, Sara, and Cam’s parents, Todd and Ellen, and immediately requested to speak with the doctor. She hadn’t spoken to Cam since the night before she left LA other than to exchange a few brief texts. However, Cam’s parents were waiting on the porch of her grandmother’s house when she pulled into the driveway late last night.

When she told Sara that her grandma was dying, Sara dropped everything to go to the hospital this morning, despite her protest that she didn’t need any help. The minute Sara walked into her grandma’s house earlier this morning, she had sagged with relief, more thankful than she thought possible to see Sara’s bright, dimpled smile and swaying blonde ponytail.

Clenching her cup of burnt coffee, she watched Sara pace back and forth across the length of the waiting room. Sara’s bubbly, excitable personality never leant itself to patience. Fortunately, Bre wasn’t having the same problem. She wasn’t in any hurry to talk to the doctor. Once she talked to the doctor, she could no longer pretend her grandma wasn’t dying, because based on every conversation she had with the hospital on her drive back to Colorado, she knew it was only a matter of time.

Covering her yawn, Bre leaned her head against the back of the stiff chair. She had hardly slept since her mom called her three days ago, and other than texting the name and address of the hospital, her mom had been on complete radio silence, not that Bre expected anything else. It just confirmed what she had always known: her mom didn’t care about anyone or anything unless there was something in it for her, and sitting at the hospital waiting for her unconscious mother to die clearly didn’t make the cut in her mother’s eyes.

The door to the waiting area flew open, and a man in his mid-forties with graying hair walked in the room.

“Miss Keaton?”

Bre stood up and walked toward him. “I’m Aubrey Keaton, Olivia Keaton’s granddaughter.”

“Miss Keaton, I’m Dr. Hollingsworth. Please join me in the hospital conference room down the hall.”

She nodded at Sara and Cam’s parents and started following him down the hall.

“Wait, Bre,” Ellen called after her. “Todd and I want to come with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

Bre released a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I’d appreciate your company.”

Bre sat near the end of the conference table, flanked by Todd and Ellen and Dr. Hollingsworth sat at the other end. Dr. Hollingsworth folded his hands in front of his body on top of the table, a dire expression on his face.

“Miss Keaton, based on your conversations with the nurses and other hospital personnel, you probably are aware that your grandmother suffered a serious type of stroke called a malignant middle cerebral artery infarction, in which the blood flow to a significant portion of the brain is cut off.”