“Oh my fucking God,” I groan when the curtains are drawn back, and sunlight floods my room. I fall back on my pillow and fling my forearm over my eyes.

“Graham, you better watch your language, young man. You may be some sort of demigod to the rest of the world, but I am still your mother. Now sit up,” she snaps.

I obey. When she uses that tone, I never argue with her. “I’m sorry, Mama. What time is it?” I ask, sitting up and looking around my bedroom. It looks like a tornado hit.

I groan as flashes of yesterday start to come back to me. I look back at my mother and force myself to meet her very disappointed gaze.

“I’m surprised you managed to fall asleep after the way you were carrying on last night,” she says. I open my mouth to speak.

“Ah ah ah … don’t say another word. You said plenty yesterday, and now, it’s time for you to listen.” Her voice brooks no argument.

Before yesterday, I would have bristled at being spoken to like that. I’m Graham Fucking Davis. No one would dare talk to me like that.

Then my mother told the doctor she was refusing the treatment plan he had put together to fight the recurrence of her cancer. Now, I’m just the star who flew too close to the sun before he realized his wings were made of wax. I’m nothing more than a helpless, fragile, clueless human being. No matter how hard I’ve tried, I can’t get away from the fact that I’ll never have anything I want. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I had a few drinks and had what can only be described as a temper tantrum.

I hang my head and nod.

“Now, I know the news was hard yesterday, Graham. It was hard for me, too. No one wants to know when they’re going to die. I knew my time would come sooner than I wanted. I’ve known since the first time I let that man put his hands on you.”

My head snaps up, and I stare wide eyes at her. “Why are you talking like that? Mama, you’re ti—”

“Graham, I told you to listen,” she says sternly. Her voice holds a thread of steel.

I nod again.

She sighs. Her voice is softer when she starts talking again.

“Whether you like it or not, you know I’m right. So, please let me finish.”

She eyes me until I nod.

“I knew that I would pay dearly for not protecting my child. When Ellie died, that was my first punishment. But this cancer, it’s my final one.”

My blood runs cold. My ears are ringing and even as my heart feels like it’s slowing down, my pulse is throbbing.

She gets up from her chair and sits beside me on my bed. She strokes my beard and smiles softly, and stormy gray eyes roam over my face. “I hate this thing. I want to see your face,” she says.

“I’ll shave it,” I say quickly.

Her smile widens. “You were always such a good boy.” She pats my cheek before her hand falls back to her side.

“The minute they put you in my arms and I saw your face, I knew God had sent me an angel. He was only handing me the baton until you’re back in His care. So, as long as you are alive, even when I am not, you have to remember the things that I’ve taught you. The good and the bad.” Her gaze goes from soft to penetrating and I sit up straighter.

I nod, but inside, my mind is racing. We haven’t talked about God since we left Cain’s Weeping. We never talk about my stepfather, and neither one of us go to church. I didn’t know she still thought this way. I certainly don’t. But I keep my face neutral and wait for her to continue.

“I love you. But I didn’t do my job as a mother. I didn’t protect you from anything.” Her eyes fill with tears and my heart starts to pound so loudly I can hear it.

She closes her eyes and tries to take a deep breath. She can’t, and she starts to cough. I grab the glass of water again and bring it to her lips.

This time, she doesn’t protest and takes a few sips.

I put it down, and as soon as I sit down again, she starts talking.

“You were such a possessive baby. You wouldn’t let your daddy hold my hand. Every time he did, you’d come to me.” She smiles—her eyes unfocused. “God, how I miss those days when all you wanted was to eat and sleep and play.”

She lifts her fingers, wiggles them and I take her hand. She sighs in pleasure. My heart shrinks to feel how frail and small her hand is now.

“And you had the wildest imagination. Oh, my Lord. The things you could conjure in that little head of yours. I was sure you’d be a writer or an actor or something when you grew up. I was the same way. Always daydreaming about what I wished the world looked like. It’s why I loved to read. It’s why I wanted you to love to read. I was an only child. My parents had never been married. I was an orphan by the time I was sixteen. I was desperate for a family. I married your father when I was eighteen. Far too young, but gosh I wanted what everyone else had. I got lucky the first time. Your father was such gentleman. So kind, so funny, and very responsible. We lived in the loveliest neighborhood. Filled with families just like us.”

Her eyes mist over.

“And then, he died, and it was just us. I didn’t have another living relative but you. Seeing all of the other young mothers with husbands to carry groceries and mow the yard. I saw what everyone else had, and I was so envious. I prayed for God to send me what I wanted.

“When I met him …” She never says my stepfather’s name. “I thought it was God answering my prayers. And it led me into the darkest pit of hell. Too late, I learned that the grass is never greener. You and I as we were had been more than enough.” She pauses and looks me hard in the eyes as if she’s trying to make me see what she can’t say.

“After Ellie died … the way she died shattered something in me. If I couldn’t keep my baby alive, what good was I? I retreated, and I almost let him kill you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. I lean in to try and hear her.

A single tear runs down her cheek. I touch it with my thumb and swipe it off her cheek. “Thank you. Will you please hold my other hand?”

I grab her other hand and she links our fingers.

She closes her eyes and leans back, so her head rests on the headboard. Her lip twitches and she exhales.

“Are you in pain?” I ask quietly.

“Not the kind that any medicine can cure,” she says with a small grimace.

“When I saw your friend appear out of the woods into our garden, I knew it was a sign. I’d been carrying that letter in my pocket, ready to mail since the day the Fergusons left. I knew that despite what he was doing to you then and what he had done to me already, we would be okay. That God hadn’t forgotten us. And I was right.” She smiles to herself, her eyes opening just a little. “Look at you now.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve only lived this long, had these years with you, because you gave up everything for me. But, now I want you to stop.”

Her words steal the air from my lungs.

“You want me to let you die?” I ask, incredulous and hurt. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do.” Her voice is as sharp as the crack of a whip. “If it means that you’ll finally start living.”

“I’m living. Look at my life. What do you mean? We have everything.” I sweep my hand around my palatial-sized bedroom to make my point.

“Is this everything to you? These walls?” she asks, shaking her head incredulously and the sadness in her eyes makes me feel like shit. “I don’t believe that. You’ve achieved so much. I’m proud of you.” She squeezes my hand. “But I wonder what you would have done if I hadn’t gotten sick.” She drops her eyes and looks at her lap. “I’m so sorry—” Her voice breaks.

“Mama, don’t be sorry. I would do it all over again. I would. I wanted you to be here. I didn’t want you to have to clean floors forever,” I say.

“What’s wrong with cleaning floors?” Her voice has regained its composure, and her eyes are still glassy, but she’s annoyed.

“Nothing. It was just all the other moms—”

“Cleaning floors put a roof over our head. Sent you to school. It was enough!” She says vehemently.

“I want more than enough!” I declare.

“You have got to learn the lesson I didn’t until it was too late.” She pulls her hands out of mine and sticks her finger in my face, her expression furious. “Looking at what everyone else is doing should not be how you pick your path. Listen to your heart. What does it love? What does it need? Envy isn’t a sin; it’s a vice. One that will never allow you to be happy.”

“I’m not looking at everyone else’s lives, Mama,” I say lamely.

“Don’t lie!” she snaps. “You’ve got money. This beautiful house. Everywhere you go, people know who you are. But those weren’t your dreams. Those were the things you saw others with and wanted for yourself. And you wanted your mother. But Graham, there are some things you can’t control. I am dying.”

“No, you don’t—”

“I want you to let me. I am not going through one more of those fucking soul crushing poisonous treatments just so you can have what you want.” I draw back away from her in shock.

She slaps her hand to her chest. “I am a lost cause. You are not. I know you love me. I know you wanted me to live a long life. I wanted that, too. But we can’t always have what we want.” Her voice is pleading, and the sadness in her eyes is breaking my heart.

“I have everything I want, Mama. Why do you think I don’t?” I ask, and I know it’s a lie.

“This, my son, is your rock bottom. Your world is about to be pulled out from under your feet. And the only way to save yourself is to learn how to fly. I am going to die. I have eighteen months left on this earth, and I need you to let me do it in peace. You can’t force me to live for you. I won’t let you live for me.”

“No…” It’s the only word I can find after listening to her speech. I just want her to stop talking.

“Yes!” She hisses insistently. “Your dreams were bigger than having things, Graham. You wanted to teach. You wanted to see the world. You wanted to be with Apollo.”

At the mention of Apollo’s name, bile rises in my throat, coating my words with resentment I never dared show. “Well, I couldn’t do those things. And now, my life is different.” I run a frustrated hand through my hair and stare up at the ceiling.

She squeezes my hand. “Look at me.”

I obey. Her eyes are stern, but her voice is gentle. “I know you must resent me.”

I can’t lie to her. But, I’m ashamed to admit it. I hang my head to avoid her eyes.

She strokes my fingers gently. I look at our hands and toy with the single pearl ring on her ring finger. It was the first piece of jewelry I ever bought her. The only one she actually wears.

“It’s okay to be honest about how you feel. You’re entitled to that. I’m actually glad to know. It means you know you’ve missed out on something and that deep down you still want it.”

Apollo’s face flashes in my mind. My heart seems to contract in my chest. It’s been nearly four years, and it doesn’t hurt any less.

“Son?” I look back at my mother and shake my head in disbelief. I can’t believe how my world has turned upside down in such a short amount of time.

“I can’t rewrite the past, but I’m praying like hell that I can help direct your future. The only person’s life you can live is your own,” she says softly. “The grass is green where it’s cared for. Live a life that feeds you inspiration. I know that agent has big plans for you. But remember the big plans you had for yourself. Because that’s what I intend to do,” she says, and for the first time, I heard a trace of something hopeful in her voice.

I eye her suspiciously. “What do you mean? What do you intend to do?”

Her face lights up, and she smiles broadly. “I want to see the world. I’ve spent the last four years going through treatments that meant I couldn’t travel. Now, I’m free to go. And, I want to take Becca with me.”

“What? You can’t—”

“I can. And besides you and Becca, I’m not telling anyone else about my diagnosis. I’ve waited this long to start living. I don’t want everyone treating me like I’m dying.”

I only nod. My eyes sting with tears and blur my vision. I remember my plans.

“I’m about to sign on for another two seasons of the show,” I tell her.

“What do you need another fifty million dollars for?” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Do you actually think it can buy you anything worth having?”

“It paid for this house.” I push back.

“Yes, I’m glad to know that my son won’t have to worry about having a roof over his head. But, my heart won’t really know peace if you’re not happy.”

“I’m not unhappy,” I say miserably. She scoffs.

“Really? You haven’t picked up a book in years. And your girlfriend is more like your sister.” Her voice is full of reproach.

My eyes fly up to meet hers. “You know?”

“I have cancer. I’m not blind!” she scoffs. “I don’t understand how dating works these days. It’s been almost thirty years since I did any of that. I knew something was going on. And I know how you feel about Apollo.” If she had punched me in the face, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.

“Apollo?” I stammer. She’s another topic of conversation we’ve carefully avoided. Her head lolls to the side.

“Please stop. I don’t have time for anything but the truth,” she says wearily.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just ... it’s been years. I miss her. It’s hard to talk about,” I admit. It feels good to say those words out loud.

“Why in the world have you let all this time pass without calling her?”

“She’s moved on. She’s happy. I did too much damage to fix it.”

“How do you know she’s happy?”

“I can tell. Her pictures. She’s always smiling.”

“You smile in your pictures, too. Are you happy? You and Amber have been everywhere smiling, holding hands, acting like you’re in love. Unless she lives under a rock, she’s probably thinking the same about you.”

“Maybe, but I doubt she cares.”

“Listen to me. And listen very closely,” she snaps but with more sadness than fatigue in her voice. “I know what it is to lose the love of your life. There is no replacing them. Not ever.” Her voice is wistful. “But Graham, Apollo isn’t dead. She’s just got a boyfriend.” She yawns, and I can see how much the last couple of days have worn on her. And here I am acting like it’s my life that’s ending.

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Hush. Enough sorries. I’ve already started planning the trip. I’m taking Becca with me. You’ve had me for twenty-seven years. She’s only had me eleven. We need some time together.”

I give her a scandalized look. “Time together for what?”

“To be happy,” she says simply. I sigh. She deserves at least that.

“Whatever you want, Mama. I’m going to give it to you,” I say, even though I wish she’d ask for something else.

“Of course, you are. You could never say no to the people you love. I want you to love yourself that much and start saying yes to what that beautiful heart is asking of you. Do that, and you’ll unlock the doors to a life that will exceed your wildest dreams. Use all of the gifts you’ve been given, baby.”

She presses a kiss to my forehead and hops off the bed. “Now, I’m going to go get my hair done. And then, I’m off to plan a trip.” Then, she strolls out of my room.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” I groan and fall back on my pillow.

She’s right. This is my rock bottom. I don’t know what the fuck to do. My television show is the most popular show on television for the second year running. I have a line of supplements with my name on them. Athletic gear, tennis shoes named after me. All I have to do is snap my fingers, and the world falls at my feet.

But my mother is dying. My life is a sham. When I look in the mirror, I see someone I never imagined I would become. Bored, shallow, contrived, and so disappointing. I’ve started to believe that maybe, this is who I really am.

I’ve thought of my massive wealth as payment for the sacrifices I made to save my mother. But now I can see that I made a Faustian Bargain. Yes, I wanted to save my mother. But, I also wanted to graduate with my friends. I was proud of being able to finally pay my full share of the chartered flights the guys and I took down to Cabo for the weekends. And, despite how I feel about Nanette, there was a part of me that liked how she looked at me. Liked that she wanted me, that so many people wanted me.

I didn’t enjoy the sex, but there was something gratifying about being paid repeatedly for it.

And, I wasn’t some fifty-dollar fuck on a corner. I was expensive.

What the fuck was I saying?

A wave of disgust rolls over me.

I didn’t do that for the fucking money. It certainly didn’t make me feel good. I did it because I thought it would be a small sacrifice to keep my mother alive and finish my degree. I thought, if Apollo never knew, then one day, I could pretend it hadn’t happened. I thought, if I don’t touch her now, then she’ll stay clean, and when I’m done, I can go be with her, and she’ll make me clean again.

But, there was no cleaning up the filth that felt embedded in my fucking cells. And Apollo—who missed nothing and lived for the minutest details—she saw the shit the minute she laid eyes on me. She’d walked away and never looked back.

I’d held the sun in my hands. She’d been mine. When I let her go, I lost a piece of myself.

And now, my mother was going to die anyway.

My heart seizes in my chest. Panic spikes as a wave of grief starts rising in the very pit of my soul. My world is collapsing in on itself, and any minute now, I’m going to drown it.

I think about the little girl who stuck her hand out of the water when she was drowning, and I’ve always thought I saved her life.

Right now, I know that it was universe saving mine. If I had to bear this on my own, I would die. But I’m not alone. No matter what’s passed between us, I know she’s there. I reach for my phone, open my Instagram app, find Apollo’s profile, and send her a message.