Love Like Her (Against All Odds #3) - Claudia Y. Burgoa Page 0,44

closed.

“You were about to tell me that you don’t need me, weren’t you?”

“I’m used to handling my parents on my own. When I was young, if Mom was sick, I had to take charge of the situation,” she explains.

“You never reached out to your dad asking for help?”

She shakes her head slightly.

I don’t know the relationship between her parents. Instead of saying something like, I’m sure your dad and Dan would be here for you if you asked, I kiss the top of her head.

“You know what you owe me?”

“Texts?”

I cup her cheeks, hold her face as I lean closer to her delicious lips. I capture her mouth, making the world disappear. It’s only us for this moment.

Just for now, her mom isn’t sick. My sister didn’t die. The world is a place where we exist only for each other—at least when we kiss. This is the magic of Liv.

She makes me forget.

She gives me hope.

Today, I want to reciprocate. I hope that the next few weeks are less dreadful because I’m here, helping her.

When we pull apart, we’re breathless. Her eyes have that shine I love to see when we’re together.

“Hi,” I say, giving her one last peck.

“That was unexpected,” she whispers.

“I would’ve done it yesterday, but I waited for the right time.”

“Is this the right time?”

I shrug. “No, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I also have a complaint to file.”

“Really?” She crooks an eyebrow. “The complaint department is closed until next year.”

“I need to speak to a manager,” I joke. “My first night at your house was different from the usual. If I had to rate my stay, I’d give it one star. I was sent to the couch.”

She laughs. “Mom is using the guest room.”

I glare at her. “Who says I wanted to stay in the guest room? I always get to be in the main suite of the house”—I kiss her nose—“with you.”

“If you behave, I might let you stay in there tonight.”

“We’re staying at the hospital for the next couple of nights,” I remind her.

“You could—”

“We’re taking turns, but you’re going to rest one night. This is a marathon, not a sprint.”

She smiles. “Thank you for being here for me.”

“Always, Liv.”

After her surgery, Beatriz spends two days in the hospital. Chemotherapy begins three weeks after the surgery. Liv and I get into a routine. I take care of the house chores while she drives her mom to doctor’s appointments and chemo treatments and spends time with her. At night, we spend some time reading and then, when we go to her room, we spend a few hours having fun.

“Mom wants to go back home.” Liv grunts, turning her face toward me.

God, I’m going to miss her when I leave. There’s something about having these late-night chats after fucking that makes me feel connected to her. I wish I could stay longer. This week is going to be the shortest one in the history of the world.

“The doctor said three to six months of treatment. I don’t know what to tell her without sounding like an authoritative parent,” she says. “I just want her to get better. Why can’t she let me look after her?”

“As a mom, she thinks it’s her place to look after you,” I explain. “It’s normal for her to feel like she’s been here for too long. I understand your point of view, but maybe you need to be a little more understanding about her feelings. She lost a lot in the past few weeks. My suggestion is to get her a counselor.”

She looks at me and grins. “I wish I knew your sister. She’d love to hear you say that.”

I pull her closer to my body and kiss her nose. “I trust that you’ll never tell her.”

“We can look for a counselor. But how do I explain to her that it’d be best if she stays?”

“This might be a discussion she should have with her doctor before she makes a decision,” I suggest. “It’s his place to tell her that she can’t just pack and leave without finishing her treatment.”

“That’s doable. I’m not sure what I’m going to do after you leave,” she whispers the last three words.

It’d be easy to answer, “The same thing I did when Callie died. We live our lives in these parallel universes where we meet for only a few beats.” Those moments are never enough. It pained me to lose my sister. It fucking killed me to leave Liv behind. But that’s what we