Home > With You Forever (Bergman Brothers #4)(2)

With You Forever (Bergman Brothers #4)(2)
Author: Chloe Liese

When I told her I was taking a leave of absence, I explained that I was stepping back to assess if law school was still the right path for me, which isn’t a lie. It’s just not the whole truth.

I know. I hate keeping secrets from her, but I’ve had my reasons, and I believe they’re good ones.

We’ve been best friends since we met, which was as freshman roommates and newbies on the women’s soccer team at UCLA. It wasn’t long into our friendship that she shared her mom’s past battle with breast cancer and her new diagnosis of leukemia. That’s when I knew the last thing Willa needed was someone else to worry about. With the right medication and sheer unreliable luck, ulcerative colitis is one of those diseases that can behave itself for years. Mine did through college, with only a few minor episodes that I managed to handle without raising Willa’s suspicion. I hate lying, and I never wanted to keep it from her, but I simply felt in my heart that she didn’t need one more thing weighing on her. The wisdom of that choice was confirmed when her mother died our junior year.

In the past few years since we’ve graduated, I haven’t known how to tell her. I’ve been afraid to worry her. I haven’t wanted anything to change between us. And the longer my lie of omission continues, the harder it gets to tell the truth.

That’s why she doesn’t know how sick I’ve been recently. That’s why she thinks I’ve just been crushed by law school, and once again, it’s not a lie—it’s just not the whole truth. Law school has been stressful. I’ve loved it some moments, hated it others, and it’s unequivocally the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

And then that stress, hours of studying, late nights, anxiety about doing my best, caught up with me, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. Your health or your studies, my doctor said. Pick one.

“Rooney?” Willa says. “I think you cut out for a minute.”

“Sorry.” I shake myself and snap out of it. “Can you hear me okay?”

“I can now. I didn’t catch anything after I asked how you’re doing.”

“Ah.” I clear my throat nervously. “Well, I’m doing…okay. Just really ready for this time away. Thank you again for offering the A-frame. You still haven’t told me what I can give the Bergmans for rent, though.”

“I told you that you’re not paying rent. You’ll never hear the end of it if you even try. You’re practically family to them.”

Willa’s boyfriend, Ryder, is the middle child of the seven Bergman siblings, a boisterous, close family that’s welcomed me into their fold. His mom, Elin, is a Swedish transplant whose hugs and homemaking are the stuff of dreams. His dad, who goes by Dr. B, is one of those people who instantly makes any gathering a party. While Willa and Ryder met when we were at UCLA, and Los Angeles is where the Bergmans now call home, their family’s early years were spent here in Washington State, often at their getaway property, the A-frame.

The Bergmans are the chaotic, tight-knit family my only-child soul always wanted, and they’ve done nothing but make me feel welcome. Since Willa is as good as theirs, and I’m hers, now I’m as good as theirs, too. At least, I was, until The Charades Kiss with Axel, the oldest Bergman son.

Not that they made it awkward. Apparently only Axel and I were traumatized by my rogue charades move. Nobody seemed remotely fazed afterward. Sure, they gasped when the kiss happened—I mean, it shocked everyone, including me—but by the time I came back from the bathroom, and found Axel pointedly absent, they’d moved on. Laughing, teasing, setting the table for dinner. Like it was nothing.

They’re either incredible actors or they weren’t terribly surprised that I’d finally flung myself at Axel after nursing a long-standing crush I’ve tried very hard to hide—Axel, who threw me a rare bone of humor when he made that crack about “a new appreciation for charades,” but who was clearly scared away by my antics. The whole situation was mortifying.

I felt sick. I was embarrassed. So that night I made my excuses, and since then, the past six weeks, I’ve made myself scarce, which hasn’t been hard because I’ve been sick as a dog.

Do I wish I could figure out how to smooth things over? Yes. Do I wish I knew how to re-engage without dying of embarrassment? Yes. But I have no idea where to begin, and I can’t deal with that right now. I don’t have the spoons to think about the Bergmans, especially Axel. I have the spoons to stay at their empty A-frame for the next few weeks, hiding from reality while figuring out how I’m going to eventually face it again.

It’s an escape I desperately need. Which is why I really want to give the Bergmans something for my time here.

“Willa, I don’t like the idea of staying at the A-frame for free.”

“Too bad,” she says. “It’s there. Unused. Ryder said it should be empty until New Year’s. That’s when Freya and Aiden have their turn, so stay as long as you like up until then.”

“Willa, seriously, I couldn’t—”

“Listen, Roo, the place is paid off. It’s there simply to be enjoyed. Ryder’s parents barely bother coming up, so it’s free for the siblings to use how and when they want. There’s no need to pay when none of us are paying. We just do the minimum upkeep.”

“I can do upkeep!”

She sighs. “You’re not spending your staycation replacing lost shingles and resealing the deck.”

“Don’t tempt me. I love DIY projects.”

“You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“Fine. I’ll settle for scrubbing the bathroom grout with a toothbrush.”

Willa snorts a laugh. “God I miss you. Do you think you’ll stick around long enough for us to catch up? I’m back in two and a half weeks. I’d be home sooner, but after we play, I’ve got to do a bunch of press and sponsorship shit—aka, the stuff that actually pays the bills.”

I glance in the rearview mirror at my reflection. I still look like I’m sick. Pale skin, shadowy half-moons under my eyes. Well, at least when we meet up, and I finally find the courage to tell her I’m sick, I’ll look the part.

“I should still be here.” Technically I don’t have to be back until a few days before Christmas, to celebrate with Dad, then meet up with my advisor to discuss how I plan to proceed at school, but I’ll probably come home at the end of the month for Thanksgiving. The holiday is always a bit of a bust, since it’s just Dad and me, but it feels odd to consider spending it apart from him. Even though, I bet if I weren’t home, he’d probably be happy working in his office or on set without feeling guilty about leaving me alone.

“Yay! I can’t wait,” Willa says. “But listen, no worries if plans change. If you head home before I’m back, we’ll make it to Thanksgiving. We’ll eat. Then nap. Then play board games. Then there’s the soccer tournament in the backyard…”

A wave of guilt crashes through me. Willa assumes I’m coming to the Bergmans for Thanksgiving, like I did last year, after Dad’s and my brief, early meal. I don’t want to tell her how unsure I am that I’ll make it. If I’ll feel well enough, because I just never know when it’s going to be a rough day and home is the only place I can handle being. If I can stand the embarrassment of seeing Axel since Kissgate.

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