Ten minutes later, the nurse takes Ophelia to surgery. Tom and Pete go with her. I play with the pockets of my jeans to keep my mind occupied. She seems like a wonderful woman. I hope she's okay.

The mood is tense when the brothers arrive. Tom paces up and down the hall, tapping his feet frantically. Pete sits next to me, his dark eyes filled with concern.

He looks to me. "You want something to drink?"

"Coffee," I say.

"Sure." He pushes out of his seat and nods to Tom. "Why don't you sit down?"

"Not offering me a drink?" Tom taps his fingers impatiently.

Pete shoots Tom a stern look. It's heavy with the weight of mutual history. Whatever it is, it works. Tom nods and plants in the chair.

He's no more relaxed. He taps a beat against his thigh. His eyes go to the bright walls. They fill with deep concern.

"Don't take Hazel's offer," he says.

I swallow hard. "Why?" Half of me wants it to be because he needs me nearby. The other half wants to punch him for the presumption that I'd rearrange my life for him.

"It's not what you want."

Oh. It's not about us at all. If there is an us.

Tom makes eye contact. "You want to set up your own studio. You're good enough. You must have enough money after what Hazel was paying you. I learned a lot about business acting as de facto manager. I can help with anything you need."

"I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Then when? I heard you and Hazel talking. She wants an answer in two days."

"You shouldn't eavesdrop."

"You were avoiding me. Tell me why."

I press my lips together. "I don't want to talk about that now."

"Then what the fuck do you want to talk about, kid?"

"I don't know." I swallow hard. "Pete convinced me that you needed me to be here. Maybe he was wrong."

I go to push myself out of my seat but Tom stops me.

He runs his thumb over mine. "He was right. I need you here."

Now or always? Is this forever? I want it to be forever.

Deep breath. "I'm not sure I have the energy to start a business."

"Don't do that."

"What?"

"Run away from your ambition. You're smart. Talented. You work hard as hell. I know you can do it."

"Good for you, Tom, but you don't get to decide what I do."

"Not what I mean."

"What the fuck do you mean?" I pick up his tapping habit. Coming here was a bad idea. My emotions have been running high all month. Then yesterday... I can't do the supportive friend thing. Not around Tom. It’s too hard wanting to be his everything.

"I was showing Mom your photos last night." His voice is soft, sweet. "You're an amazing photographer. You could be shooting magazine editorials if you wanted."

His expression is earnest. He really believes that.

"I'm thinking about it," I say.

"I'm not going to let up on this one." He squeezes my hand. "You don't have to be shy. You need more models for your boudoir. I volunteer."

A laugh breaks up the tension in my shoulders. "Do you?"

"Absolutely."

"And you'll sign a model release?"

He nods.

"What if I sell the photos to TMZ?"

"Won't be anything anyone hasn't seen before."

I motion to his crotch. "What about your piercing?"

Tom smiles. "I trust you."

"Do you?"

He nods with all this openness and affection.

My heart beat speeds up. My thoughts crash into each other. One thing at a time. Waiting for Ophelia to get out of surgery is nerve-wracking enough without adding heartbreak to the mix.

* * *

Pete does a thorough job distracting us. First the coffee. Then he breaks out a deck of cards and teaches a trick taking game. He's masterful. Tom and I have to team up against him to keep him from running away with it.

We have lunch in the cafeteria. No one is paying much attention to their food. Still, we play round after round of the card game. For a while, we're laughing, teasing.

Around two, we find spots in the waiting room. No more laughing, no more joking. No levity at all. Pete sits by himself. There's something scary about how calm his expression is. Like he's raging under the surface.

Tom isn't hiding anything. He paces back and forth, frantic. Nervous. I can't watch him this upset. I have to get up and wrap my arms around him.

He softens. Slows. He squeezes me and runs his hands up and down my back. We stay close for minutes.

"Thank you for being here." He whispers in my ear.

Then he pulls back, and he's as good as gone. The nerves swallow him whole. He leans against the wall, tapping his toes or his fingers.

"I'd kill for a drum kit right about now," he says.

"Would it be inappropriate to make a joke about how you're welcome to bang me?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "But Mom would love it."

"You are. Welcome to bang me."

He shakes his head. "Not right now, kid. Not with everything..."

"Yeah."

But he does wrap his arms around me. I'm scared too but it feels amazing knowing I can bring him some comfort.

When Tom releases me, he stays close. He keeps his hand intertwined with mine.

We stay like that until a woman in scrubs comes up to us. She nods to Tom with familiarity.

"Where's your brother?" She asks.

Tom motions to the nearly still Pete. It takes the bassist a minute to move—he must be terrified. Slowly, he makes his way to us.

The woman looks Pete in the eye. "Your mother is in recovery. The surgery went well, but she'll need some time under supervision because of the anesthesia."

No one breathes.

She looks to Tom. "She's going to be okay. The tumor is benign."

"She's okay?" Pete asks.

The doctor nods. "The cancer isn't back. That doesn't mean it will never come back, but for now, it looks good."

Tom's hand squeezes mine. "Thank you."

"It should be about an hour before you can see her. The nurse will call you when she's ready." The doctor nods a courteous but emotionless goodbye and returns to her work.

Tom releases my hand. He turns to his brother. They exchange a meaningful look. Then they're in one of those guy hugs where they're barely touching.

Pete steps back. "I'll make the calls." He motions to the hospital entrance. "Get some fresh air."

Tom swallows hard. "Pete—"

"Go."

Tom takes my hand and leads me through the lobby. "Not used to taking orders."

"Is he always that bossy?"

"Yes." Tom laughs. "Bossier. Don't tell me you're interested."

"Intrigued maybe," I tease. I'm desperate to lighten the mood as quickly as possible.

We step through the first set of double doors. Then the second.

All my senses fire at once. The air smells of salt. The sun is warm. Beautiful blue flowers line the walkway.

And Tom's hands are on my skin.

He pulls me into another hug. No, it's more than a hug. It's an embrace. His body presses against mine. My cheek presses against his neck. He smells good. He's warm.

When he releases me, he looks into my eyes. There's so much relief in his expression. It's my relief. All the happiness he's feeling flows into me like it's my own.

It is my own.

I stare back at him. "Tom, I love you."