I run my fingers along the small silver pebbled frame sitting on the edge of my desk. It’s a picture of me and Emma. It’s been a couple of weeks, and Ma ordered me a picture frame. She said jokingly that I should have some evidence I could hold down a girl. I huff a laugh, remembering her jab. She thinks she’s funny.

It’s a good picture of the two of us, too. Emma had it; she kept it from all those years ago.

She took it in my car, lying next to me, holding her hand up as we lay across the back seats. The two of us are smiling. I can’t think of another picture I have where I’m smiling unless it’s forced. Ma used to make us get pictures together. She said it was important. I know she wanted me to get them because she thought she was dying. She wanted me to have a picture of the two of us, so I could remember her when she was gone.

In those pictures with her, I’m not really smiling. I hated getting them done. I only agreed to take them because I knew my ma needed them. I forced each smile for her. But they're not real.

I tap my finger against the edge of the silver picture frame.

Emma never showed me the pictures she took of us. I knew she wasn’t gonna show anyone anyway, so it didn’t matter to me. I didn’t even know why she wanted them herself.

I’m glad she did though. Looking at the happiness in her eyes and the way I’m glancing at her rather than looking at the camera, I remember the way she made me feel back then. It’s stronger now, which surprises me. It’s hard to believe that I can feel more for her today than I did in high school. I guess things haven’t changed much at all. We just picked up right from where we left off.

I think I remember that day, but there were so many of them where we did just that. Lay together in the back of my car, just holding each other and kissing. Some days I let my hands roam along her body.

A few times, she climbed on top of me. That’s the most we ever did, when she’d grind against my hard cock. The first time she did it, I didn’t even realize she was doing it on purpose. It drove me crazy, the slow grinding of her pussy against my dick.

The corners of my lips kick up into a small smile. I’ll never forget that. I’ll never let her forget that either. I made my good girl do bad things. I made her want bad things. I still do.

The days are flying by, but each day she seems to get more and more comfortable in my arms again. It helps that she isn’t around any of the shit I’m doing. I sigh heavily, running my hands through my hair. I don’t know how long I can keep this up. I’m putting off meets to go see her. I’m letting assholes get away with stupid shit, too. Which isn’t a good look. Tony never fails to remind me of that.

Although if Emma saw the shit I’m doing today, she wouldn’t have any concerns. I click on the mouse to get over to my emails again. It’s just paperwork. All day I go through contracts for the businesses in my name. The legit ones. It’s boring shit, but it needs to be done.

Everything is streamlined, but I still have my hand in every piece of the operation.

I didn’t get far by handing off work to other people. The details are what matter. Being present matters. Every day I come to this office. Every problem goes through me. That’s how it should be. I’m the boss, so I have to act the part. Everyone needs to know I’m here.

It’s an important part of being respected. If I’m not doing the work, why would they even give a fuck about me? I could easily be replaced. I can handle the business end of the companies and restaurants I own all day long. But lately I’m falling short on the dealing and supplying end of things

The thought sends a chill down my spine, but at the same time a feeling of ease flows through me.

A knock at my door steals my attention and draws my eyes up.

“Who is it?” I ask loud enough for whoever it is to hear.

“It’s me, boss,” Tony says from the other side of the door.

“Come on in,” I tell him.

My office door opens, and I push the picture frame away. He’s seen it already. I’m not hiding it; I just don’t like looking at Emma when I'm talking business.

Tony’s got a stack of mail in his hands, one envelope already open. He tosses the envelopes on the desk in front of me and hands me the one that’s open.

“Just some bills.” I take the one he’s opened and glance at it. “I didn’t know Ma wasn’t takin’ the chemo anymore.” There’s a bit of hurt in his voice, as if I kept it from him.

My body chills at his statement. “She’s doing something different.” He’s always calls her Ma. Growing up next to each other, growing up so closely, she was his mother, too.

He grew up with his grandma, but she passed away a few years ago. She was never really there for him anyway. It wasn’t her fault; she just wasn’t ready to take care of a young kid when she was so old. His mom up and left though, leaving his grandma no choice.

“They’re trying this new thing.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose and waving my hand in the air, trying to remember what they called the pills. “It’s still chemo, just in pill form. They said it'll help without making her body so weak.”

“Is it helping?” he asks.

“I don’t know.” It’s a cocktail. Another one. Just a different mixture of the same shit. I shake my head, trying not to think about it. Ma’s not looking any better. She says she’s not feeling any better either.

“I was talking to her yesterday,” Tony says casually. I know he's faking being relaxed though. He’s not looking at me; instead he’s looking out the window of the office. I know him well enough to know that he’s got something he doesn’t want to tell me. He’s holding back.

“Oh yeah?” I ask.

He takes a seat in the chair across from me. His body’s a little stiff, although he’s trying not to show it. It’s making me nervous. We share everything, and I don’t know what the hell’s going on with him right now.

“Yeah.” His fingers tap nervously against the armrest as he clears his throat. “She was asking about the special stuff.” The bastard has the nerve to look me in the eyes as he says that.

The special stuff. The shit that’s meant to make death fast and easy. Given in their sleep.

It means she’s asking for a way to die. My throat dries up instantly. I struggle to breathe, and I can’t even swallow. It’s not the first time she’s done this. I look away and out the window.

A few weeks ago she was asking me for it. Not outright, but just hinting around about it. I couldn’t take it. I don’t want her to talk like that. And I couldn’t let her do that to herself. I’m not letting her give up. She’s going to beat this.

“You better be careful, Tony,” I tell him slowly, finally facing him again. My voice is gruff. It almost cracks. I almost looked weak in front of him. I’ve never thought of him as an enemy, but right now, that’s exactly what he looks like to me. He throws his hands up in defense. Again he has the nerve to look me in the eyes. “I’m just telling you what she said.” He shakes his head somewhat, but there’s a look in his eyes I don’t trust. “I just wanted you to know.”

“I know.” My voice gets louder and I can’t help it, but my emotions are taking over. I hold onto the anger more than anything else. That’s the one I can handle.

I push back the sense of betrayal I feel over her for wanting to end it. For not trying. For being willing to leave me. I can’t take it. My voice cracks this time, but I don’t care as I say, “She’s gonna fight this.” My fist slams against the desk. “She’s going to beat this.” I feel unhinged, like a beast trapped in a cage, trying desperately to get out. Fighting just to live. Fighting for her to live.

“I hear you, Derek.” His voice is shaky, and his eyes glass over. “You know she’s my Ma, too.” The only thing that saves him right now is that he’s getting emotional. I stare at him for a long time without speaking, just breathing, trying to keep myself restrained. I hate that he even brought it up. What’s worse is I hate that it’s true. I don’t doubt him for a second. I’m sure she asked him for it.

“What’d you tell her?” I ask him.

“I told her I’d ask you.” This time he doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes trained on the pile of papers on my desk. His voice is low and full of pain. “She shouldn’t have to live like this.” I glare at him, willing him to look me in the eye, and give him a deadly look. “It’s spreading.” Although his voice is quiet, the words slam against me as though he screamed them.

“Shut up, Tony.” I get out of my chair so fast that it rolls back and it hits the wall hard behind me. I tower over him and shout, “Get out!” I stare at him, willing him to leave before I lose my shit and beat the piss out of him.

He gets up without a word. The only sound in the room is the scraping of the chair legs against the wooden floor.

I’m breathing heavy as he opens the door and then slams it behind him.

I spend thousands of dollars a month. I’ll spend thousands more. Whatever it takes, I’ll pay them. That’s worked for years. It’s what fueled my desire to rise to the top. It’s the only thing I’ve worked for. The only reason I took this path back then. I needed the cash. I needed to help her. She still needs me, but what else do I have to give her?

All the money in the world, and it can’t save her.

What good is it? What good is any of it?

I grip the desk to keep myself standing upright, my chest heaving with each breath. My eyes fall on the picture. The one of me and Emma, in the frame Ma gave me. I instantly reach for my phone and call her.

I need my sweetheart. I need her to take this pain away.