Hope Restored (Gallagher Brothers Book 3) Page 3

  “Shit, I figured Liz would have told you by now.”

  She shook her head, tears filling her eyes, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “No one’s told me anything. Maybe they didn’t want to share your business.”

  “You can know anything you want about me, Tessa. You know that.”

  Did she?

  “Murph…”

  “It’s back.”

  Her knees went weak, and she sank to the kitchen floor, her food forgotten. “What’s back?”

  “They’re still running tests, and I actually get to meet with Liz’s boss this upcoming week to discuss options since my insurance company will thankfully let me use the clinic, but we’re pretty sure it’s CLL.”

  “Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia.” She said the words slowly, her heart beating fast in her chest.

  “I forget you work in a hospital and would know that.” His voice was a little hollow, and she wanted to reach through the phone and hold him, telling him everything would be okay. Since she couldn’t do that, she tried to focus on what she knew.

  “Do they have a prognosis?”

  “Not yet. CLL is treatable and slow growing. It’s not what I had as a kid since this is chronic and a little different. Apparently, one percent of people who had the kind of chemo I did can develop CLL later. Lucky me. I’m going to beat it, though. Damn it. I think Owen already has a few notebooks of research, so I’ll be doing a lot of reading.”

  She swallowed hard, doing her best to keep her emotions in check. Murphy did not need another person overreacting or acting too emotional. He needed his flirty friend, and that was just who she’d be.

  “Reading? Oh, dear. That sounds tough. Maybe you should get someone to read it to you. Maybe Rowan?”

  “You can’t see me, but I’m flipping you off right now.”

  “Good to know you still have your sense of humor. Just trying to cheer you up, you know? I’d try phone sex, but I don’t want to overstimulate you.”

  She froze, her eyes going wide. What the fuck, Tessa?

  Murphy laughed hard into the phone, and she relaxed. “You know, you’re the first person to make me laugh since this weekend. So, thank you.” He yawned, and she pressed her lips together, trying not to think about why he’d be so tired already. “I should get some sleep.”

  She closed her eyes, finding her strength. “I guess I should, too. Just… Murphy? If you need me, I’m here. And not just for jokes about sex, okay?”

  He was silent a bit longer, and she was afraid she’d overstepped again. “Thanks, Tessa. And, yeah, once I know more, I’ll be sure to keep you in the loop. I’ve beaten shit like this—worse than this—before, you know? Not gonna let it get me down.”

  “Hell yeah.”

  Neither of them sounded too convinced.

  They hung up soon after that, and she stared down at her phone, wondering what on earth she was going to do. She was only an admin in the financial department of the hospital. Every other person around Murphy had more experience and ways to help than she did.

  But she’d do what she could because this was Murphy, and he deserved to live.

  Not only that, but he deserved to live.

  And if all she could do was make him laugh when the world seemed to fall apart around them, then that’s what she’d do.

  Always.

  3

  Murphy’s day went from shittastic to royally fucked in the span of two phone calls. He hadn’t slept well the night before since his mind kept going in way too many directions and formulating scenarios he’d rather not think about at all. He still couldn’t quite believe he was sick again.

  When he’d been younger, after the first time he went into remission, his parents had constantly hovered over him to ensure that they would know the exact time a warning sign popped up. Murphy had spent countless hours in doctor’s offices for a mere sniffle while his older brothers never had to deal with that stress or overprotectiveness. His parents had soothed his brothers and had ensured that the other three Gallaghers were pampered when they were sick, of course, but the constant fear had always been about him.

  The stress had eventually killed his parents.

  Not that anyone actually said as much, but Murphy knew. There were only so many years a body could go on in a constant state of hyper-awareness and near panic that something would go wrong. Once Murphy had been healthy for a significant amount of time, his parents’ bodies had simply given out. Heart attacks and brain aneurysms in two otherwise healthy people wasn’t as common as movies made it out to be.

  But because of that vigilance when Murphy was a kid, his parents had been the first to realize something was wrong with him as a teenager. The same cancer he’d had as a child had come back, only worse because he’d been a little older and his body a little more tired from fighting it off the first time.

  He’d come out alive—if a little more weary—the second time, as well.

  And maybe because of that, Murphy had ignored what had been staring him right in the face for so long now. He’d known he was a little more tired than usual and yet had just tried to sleep more, drink more caffeine, and push through it. When he’d started having more mood swings than normal, he’d attributed that to the fact that he was tired. After all, he worked a physically and mentally demanding job as the lead architect for Gallagher Brothers Restoration.

  But now, he was sick. Really sick. He didn’t know what the exact treatments would be, but he knew they wouldn’t be a walk in the park. He had an appointment with his oncologist at the clinic in a couple of days, and there, they would decide what the best course of action would be. His former oncologist was retiring soon, so he’d needed a new one to work with anyway, and thankfully, Liz now worked in a clinic that could help him. She wouldn’t be his nurse because of conflict of interest, but she’d be there if he needed her. Hell, his whole family would be there if he needed them.

  Murphy frowned and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t feel like he had cancer. He didn’t feel any differently other than the fact that he had a ball of dread in his stomach. Maybe if he looked hard enough, he’d see it. See it and know that his body was once again trying to kill him and the only way to live was to put poison into his system and hope for the best.

  The circles under his eyes were slightly darker than usual, but that could be from the lack of sleep the night before. He didn’t have any bruises on his face and neck, and if he pulled up his shirt, he wouldn’t see any on his front either. But when he’d gotten out of the shower that morning, he’d seen the bruises on his back, sides, and legs that mingled with his ink. There was no hiding from that, even if part of him wanted to.

  He ran a hand through his hair, letting the long strands slide through his fingers. He had the shortest beard of his brothers but the longest hair. Would he lose it all again if he had chemo and radiation? It doesn’t matter, he thought to himself. In the end, he’d deal with it, even if it sucked and would be a constant reminder that something was wrong.

  Murphy let out a sigh and looked down at the phone he’d set on his dresser after his phone calls of the morning. The first had been from his doctor’s office, ensuring that he knew what to bring for his upcoming appointment. The second made him want to throw his damn cell across the room. But since he was about to spend most—if not all—of his savings on medical bills since his insurance would only cover so much, he didn’t want to waste money on a temper tantrum.

  And now it seemed he would need to spend even more money on things outside of his control.

  His damn landlord had called, telling him that they were moving back to Denver instead of staying on the west coast as planned. Unlike his brothers, Murphy rented a house instead of owning it. He’d been saving for a home of his own but hadn’t found anything he liked enough to want to spend that much money on it. If he didn’t like the bones of the house, he wasn’t going to live there and have his name on the deed. He was an architect and could work with most anything, b
ut something had to call to him if he planned to own it. Plus, he was younger than his brothers by enough years that he was just getting to a place where he could buy a home in this market.

  Denver’s housing market had hit a boom, and finding a place to rent these days was impossible. People were buying homes hours after they went on the market and paying way over the asking prices because there just weren’t enough properties in neighborhoods people wanted to live in right now.

  It was ridiculous, and Murphy had thought he’d gotten out of that for a while at least. His landlords up until now had lived in San Diego and had been decent on his rent. Murphy did most of the repairs on the house himself and billed them for parts since it was just easier for him to do it rather than haggle to find someone else. It wasn’t a large place, but he didn’t need much space. It was only him, after all, and he hadn’t dated seriously enough for the size of the house to be a problem.

  But now that his landlords were moving back and his lease was up at the end of the month, he only had two weeks to find a new place.

  Fucking impossible.

  He’d been living in the same house for over five years now, and it was always around this time that he signed a new, year-long contract. It drove him mad that things were always down to the wire, but he’d never had an inkling that things would change so dramatically this year.

  He had no fucking idea what he was going to do. He had treatments starting soon, a new project on the docket at work, and now he had to find a place to live. His brothers might let him crash at their places, but he didn’t want to do that. Jake, Maya, and Border had the room, but they also had Noah. Murphy wasn’t sure staying with them would be a good idea since his immune system was bound to take a hit with any chemo or radiation he ended up needing, and being around children was just asking for germs. All of the kids, including the impending babies, would need to be around germs so they could build up their immune systems. It’s how things worked in the world. But Murphy knew he couldn’t be around that.

  Plus, all of his loved ones would spend so much of their time worrying about him instead of dealing with their own lives that he was afraid they’d end up hurting themselves in the process. It had happened to his parents, and he’d be damned if it happened to his brothers and their significant others, as well.

  He blew out a breath and stuffed his phone into his pocket then picked up his keys. He didn’t know what to do, but standing here and worrying about it wasn’t helping matters. So he’d go to the one person he knew who could help him make a damn list or something so he could figure out his options.

  Owen.

  He didn’t need his brothers making decisions for him, but he could use the advice. Owen would help him clear his head because if Murphy stayed much longer in his bedroom staring at himself, he might just have a panic attack.

  It was the weekend, and he knew all of his brothers should have been off work—except maybe Jake who was an artist and tended to keep his own hours since he worked from home. Yet when Murphy pulled into Owen’s driveway, he frowned. There wasn’t a vehicle outside the house, and Murphy remembered that only Liz’s car could fit inside the garage since Owen’s truck was a little too tall. It didn’t look like anyone was home, and Murphy laid his head on the steering wheel, forcing his breathing to slow down.

  He would not have a panic attack just because one of his big brothers wasn’t there when he needed him. He hadn’t called ahead, and that was on him. Murphy could have called or gone to any of his other brothers, but he wasn’t sure what to do.

  Instead, he turned to the right and saw Tessa’s vehicle in her driveway and relaxed somewhat. He could talk to Tessa. She wouldn’t hover or overreact. She might not be able to help him figure out what to do, but he needed to talk to someone, and he liked talking to her. Even though she perpetually made him hard as a rock, she also listened and made him laugh. He could definitely use that right now.

  He turned off the engine and slid out of his truck before walking through the yard to Tessa’s. He frowned when he noticed one of the plants on her porch browning and shook his head. Liz was the one with the greener thumb, and he remembered that Tessa had tried her best but wasn’t really good at keeping plants alive. Now that Liz wasn’t living there anymore, all the responsibility of owning the home fell on Tessa’s shoulders. That really had to suck after only a short time of sharing the house. But that’s what happened when one of the duo fell in love and moved out.

  Murphy rang the doorbell and stuffed his hands into his pockets while he waited for Tessa to answer. It was only now that he thought about how weird this was. He’d never actually been to Tessa’s place without anyone else there, let alone showing up unannounced, needing to talk about things he wasn’t sure he could actually put into words.

  He almost thought about ducking and running, but that would have been idiotic, so he waited until Tessa opened the door. Her brows lifted at the sight of him before she gave him a wide smile.

  He really liked Tessa’s smile. Those lips said so much, even without words. She could smile flirty, cat-like, sweet, happy, bright, and sarcastic, all with subtle variations. Not that he studied her lips often. Or at all. She was just his friend.

  “Hey, you, what’s going on?”

  He shifted from foot to foot and decided to be honest rather than finding a better way to say that he was an idiot. “I needed to talk to Owen. Or someone, that is, and he and Liz don’t appear to be home.” He closed his eyes and held back a groan. “Though I didn’t exactly call them or knock on their door to check. I just assumed and, apparently, I’m an idiot today.”

  Tessa gave him a small laugh as he opened his eyes, and she took a step back to let him inside. “Owen’s truck isn’t in the driveway, so I would assume they’re both gone too since it’s the weekend. And I think Liz mentioned something about going to the Farmer’s Market in Westminster today since they have better produce. You want something to drink while you wait for them?”

  He blew out a breath, wondering how she could be so easygoing about letting him hang out here while waiting for someone else. There really was no one like Tessa. “Actually, I was kind of hoping I could talk to you.”

  Her eyes widened fractionally, and her smile changed to one he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t wrong, it just looked…surprised maybe?

  “Oh, sure. I mean, totally.”

  There was the sound of a toilet flushing behind her, and Murphy met Tessa’s gaze only to have her close her eyes and blow out a breath.

  “Hey, babe, I can’t find the replacement soap since I used the last of it to wash my hands. I didn’t want to leave you without it next time you go in there.” A tall man with sandy-blond hair and wide shoulders walked out of Tessa’s bedroom, and Murphy figured this guy had to be Brandon. Or Brody. Or…Brent. Yeah, Brent.

  It was a Saturday afternoon, and the man wore khakis. Pressed khakis.

  Well, then.

  “Shit, I didn’t realize you had company.” He kept his voice low, feeling like an idiot.

  “It’s only Brent.” Tessa winced. “And I meant that better than it sounded,” she said under her breath in a rush. “Brent, no worries on the soap. It’s in the hall closet. And, hey, this is my friend Murphy. He’s Owen’s brother.”

  At Brent’s frown, she continued, and Murphy stayed silent, not sure what to say. “Owen? Liz’s fiancé?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry, I forgot.” Brent smiled, and Murphy gave the man a nod.

  “Murphy,” Tessa continued, “this is my…this is Brent.” She winced again, and this time, Murphy held back a laugh. He wasn’t sure what she’d planned to call Brent, but since she didn’t say “boyfriend,” he figured they were still in the casual stages of their relationship.

  But still, khakis-wearing Brent seemed like an okay guy, if a bit boring. Murphy held back a smile as he held out his hand for Brent. The other man shook it and nodded slowly.

  “So, what brings you here?” Brent asked, wrapping his arm around
Tessa’s waist. She artfully dodged his hold and gestured toward the couch.

  “Yeah, why don’t you take a seat and talk if you want. Or we can just chat about random things while you wait for Owen and Liz to get home.” She was giving him an out so he wouldn’t have to speak about certain things in front of Brent, and for that, he was grateful. Yet he still felt like he was invading her space.

  “I can come by another time,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t.” Tessa moved forward and pulled gently by him elbow as if she were afraid she’d bruise him. Yeah, she just might, but it still annoyed him that she had to be so careful.

  Fuck cancer. Seriously.

  “Now, sit down and stop being weird.” She gave him a wink, and he sat down on one end of the couch, Tessa on the other. Brent sat on the armchair nearest her and leaned close.

  This wasn’t awkward at all.

  “So, you work with your brothers, right?” Brent asked, and Murphy nodded.

  “Yeah. My title is Lead Architect, but I also do some of the heavy lifting since we’re a small company.”

  “A good one from what I hear,” Brent added.

  “Good to know we have a reputation,” Murphy said easily. He blew out a breath and figured, what the hell, Brent seemed like a nice guy. “So, it turns out, in addition to all the other shit going on, I might be homeless soon.”

  “What the fuck?” Tessa asked, and Brent leaned closer.

  Murphy told them about his lease and landlords and shook his head while he did it; more annoyed with himself now than ever before. He should have been asking to see his new lease long before this, but he’d been so used to how things had worked in the past, he’d been lazy. Not to mention between the extra projects at work and his diagnosis, he’d had other things on his mind. Now he was stuck, and he had no idea what to do.

  “Well, damn,” Tessa mumbled. “And you can’t stay with your brothers. Not when they’ll smother you. I mean, we all remember what happened to Owen when he got in his accident.”