When Forever Changes

by Siobhan Davis

  “But I can’t be with you either, Slate.”

  Everything euphoric withers and dies. All hope leaves me instantaneously.

  “It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I love you so much it kills me to say this, but I can’t let my feelings get in the way of what I need to do. I have to prioritize Dylan and my baby, and I hate that it means I have to shut you out, because you don’t deserve that, but I can’t just be your friend. Not when you are so much more than that. Not when it’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess to stop myself from kissing you right now.”

  Screw this shit. I can’t stand here, watching the woman I love in utter agony, and not try to do something. I take her into my arms, holding her tight. Her body trembles underneath me, but she doesn’t fight this, circling her arms around my waist and hugging me back.

  “I don’t want to make things difficult for you, Belle, so I’ll stay away,” I whisper. I almost choke as the words leave my mouth, because it’ll kill me to walk away from her, but I can’t be selfish. She’s going through hell, and I won’t add to it. “But it doesn’t mean you won’t be in my thoughts and on my mind twenty-four-seven. It doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you if you ask me to. It means I respect your wishes and I don’t want to add to your agony. It means I can be patient and that I’m going to wait for you. It means I love you more than life itself and I will do whatever is necessary to help ease this burden on you.”

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I press a kiss to the top of her head, committing the feel of her in my arms to memory. “Take care of Dylan, but don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

  Then I release her, walking upstairs without a backward glance, letting her leave, not knowing when, or if, I’ll ever see her again.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Gabby

  The next couple of months fly past far too quickly. Even though each passing week brings me closer and closer to meeting my child, it also reduces the time I have left with Dylan. Although he’d previously told the neurologist and oncologist that he didn’t want chemoradiation, he changed his mind the instant he found out about the baby.

  “Come in, Dylan,” Dr. Stevens says, opening his door and extending his hand. Dylan wobbles a little on his feet as he gets up, but I know better than to try to help. Dylan hates that Heather and I have to do so much for him. Hates the loss of independence. Since he started chemotherapy and radiation, he has been tired and nauseous, and some days he only has enough energy to move from his bed to the couch and back again.

  “Hello, Gabby.” Dr. Stevens shakes my hand, offering me his usual warm smile. “You are positively blooming.”

  “Thank you.” I return his smile before taking a seat beside Dylan in front of the desk. My hands rest on top of my bump, rubbing my swollen belly as if on autopilot.

  “Did I tell you we’re having a boy?” Dylan says, his tone radiating with pride as he puts his hand on top of mine.

  “You mentioned at your last appointment that you were going in for an ultrasound.” The doctor sits down on the other side of the desk. “That’s fantastic news. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So, how have you been?” he asks, eyeballing Dylan.

  “The same, pretty much. Some days are better than others.”

  The doctor’s expression turns more serious, and he straightens up in his chair. I’ve come to recognize his little tells, and he’s gearing up to tell us something we won’t like. Bile floods my mouth, and I cling to Dylan’s hand. “I think we can call a halt to the chemo and radiation, and that should give you some relief from the symptoms.”

  “Why?” I inquire.

  He shoots us a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid the treatment isn’t working. It’s not slowing the growth of the tumor. It’s just too aggressive.”

  I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply and silently counting to ten in my head. It’s the only way I’ll hold the tears at bay.

  “Is there anything else we can try?” Dylan quietly asks, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

  “I’m going to change some of your meds, and alter some of the doses, but, apart from that, I’m afraid there isn’t much more we can do. I’m sorry.”

  I open my eyes, and Dylan is nodding. “Okay, thanks.”

  The doctor runs through the changes to his medication, and I take out my notepad, writing it all down. I’ve found, from experience, that I don’t always remember everything the specialists tell us. It’s been so overwhelming, and all these new words and procedures are foreign to me, so now I write it all down. And when Dylan is asleep at night, I pore over my iPad, lapping up every bit of information I can find. My dad always says knowledge is power, and I’ve found that to be true with Dylan’s situation. The more informed I am, the more I can ask the type of questions that need to be asked.

  When the appointment is finished, we walk to the door hand in hand.

  “Gabby, before you leave.” Dr. Stevens rounds the desk with a leaflet in his hand. “I thought this might be of interest to you. It’s a support group for caregivers.” His compassionate eyes probe mine. “I know how devoted you are to Dylan, but it’s important you take care of yourself too. You and the baby.”

  “You think I don’t know that!” Dylan snaps. “I’m looking after her the best I can.”

  I smooth the creases in his brow with my thumbs. “Freckles, you’re doing it again. The doctor wasn’t personally criticizing you, he was just reminding me to take care of myself and the baby.”

  A muscle clenches in Dylan’s jaw, and he curls and uncurls his fists at his side. When he has himself under control, the rage on his face fades. “Sorry, Doc.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. Take care of yourselves, and I’ll see you at the next appointment.”

  We walk out to the car in silence. The prognosis weighs like a ten-ton truck on my mind, but it’s my job to cheer Dylan up, so I push my own gloomy thoughts aside, turning to him once we are both seated. “Do you feel up to going somewhere this afternoon? Just the two of us?”

  His chest heaves, and he looks out the window without replying. Disappointment settles over me, but I plant a smile on my face as I turn the engine on and pull out of the hospital parking lot.

  Dylan had to relent and purchase a new vehicle because his dad’s old truck isn’t the most reliable. Between his cancer and my pregnancy, we can’t afford to take any risks, so he bought a brand spanking new Ford Expedition. He insisted on putting it in my name, but I didn’t argue. Like I didn’t protest when he installed the baby seat, bought the most expensive baby furniture on the market, and hired an interior designer to transform one of the spare bedrooms in his Mom’s house into a nursery. I know he wants to have everything in place, to make sure we’re prepared and that I’m looked after, and you’ll never hear me complaining about that. Fact is, watching his enthusiasm while we shopped online for everything brought a smile to my face. I need to see evidence of the old Dylan to remind myself that he’s still the same man I love at times when he lashes out. Although his outbursts are few and far between, it’s still horrible to bear witness to.

  Cancer is an evil disease, irrespective of where it invades your body, but brain cancer is its own special brand of evil, because it steals personalities before it steals lives. It’s like a double assault with a deadly weapon, and it’s so brutally unfair.

  “Yeah, let’s do that,” Dylan says, cutting through my thoughts. “I’d like to do something together.”

  My smile returns, and there’s a new little pep in my heart. “Any special requests?”

  “How about we rent bikes and go for a ride and picnic in the park? We haven’t done that in years.”

  “Excellent idea! Provided I can fit this ginormous bump behind the wheel.” I wink at him.

  “You’re not ginormous. You’re still as gorgeous as ever.”
He leans over the console, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

  “And you’re still a complete charmer.”

  “I’m only telling the truth. Companies should be snapping you up to promote their pregnancy products. Sales would go through the roof.”

  “You know you’re biased, right?” I arch a brow, glancing at him quickly.

  “You know you’re delusional, right?”

  I throw back my head laughing. “All right, I’ll give you that one.”

  Heather shoots me a concerned look when we arrive back at the house and tell her our plans, but I send her a reassuring one in return. I won’t let anything happen to Dylan while he’s with me. I understand her concerns. I’m the same every time I’m not with him.

  My family has been amazingly supportive. Mom drops by most days for coffee and a chat. Some days she drags me out for a walk, insisting I take a break. Other days, she drags Heather out for lunch with the girls, so she has some time away from her caregiving duties. Dad drops by every weekend to mow Heather’s lawn and do any odd jobs around the house. My brothers take turns stopping by to watch a movie or grab a pizza or to just gossip about stuff going on around town, doing anything and everything they can to keep things normal for Dylan.

  Consequently, I’m forced out of the house at least one night a week. Either Terri insists I go to some prenatal class with her or Myndi shows up to drag me to a movie, or Dean takes me and the girls out for an early dinner, but my family is insistent that I get some alone time for myself. Dylan encourages me to go, and I do it, but I can’t relax. Every second I’m away from him, I’m worrying that something will happen while I’m gone.

  So, I understand Heather’s concern, especially since she’s upset over the report from the doctor. But that’s exactly why we need to do this. Dylan needs a distraction, and, if I’m honest, I do too.

  Heather chats with her son in the living room while I make sandwiches, chop fruit, and pack some crackers and chips for Dylan along with some bottles of water and juice. I load them into my backpack, and then we set off on foot, walking the couple of miles to the park. It’s still quite cold this time of year, and the sky is overcast, but no rain is predicted, so I feel confident we can risk it.

  Dylan rents a couple of bikes from the bike hut outside the park. I can’t help laughing at the bike he rents for me. It reminds me of the bike my Grandma Hudson used to own with a basket up front and a tinkling bell. “Mock me all you want,” he says, taking my bag and putting it into the basket. “But you’ll thank me when your shoulders and back aren’t aching from carrying that thing.”

  “It’s thoughtful and sweet,” I say, hugging him. “Thank you.”

  Playful squeals fill the air as we cycle past the children’s playground. “Remember how we used to hang out here in the evenings during summer break,” Dylan says, smiling as he watches the kids shrieking gleefully on the swings and hollering as they race down the slide.

  For a couple years, when we were thirteen and fourteen, all the kids from our class used to hang out in the park in the evening. Sherilyn Kane used to bring her docking station and hook us up with some tunes. We thought we were so cool. I smile as I take a trip down memory lane.

  “I remember you pushing me on the swing so hard I fell off, landing face-first in the dirt, and my skirt blew up around my waist, exposing my panties to Michael Lyons and Jeremy Manning.”

  “Don’t remind me,” he scoffs. “I was so concerned about you that I didn’t see those pervs creeping over you.”

  “Dylan, Michael and Jeremy drooled over any female with a pulse.” I shake my head, laughing, as we pedal away from the playground. “They didn’t discriminate, and I was nothing special.”

  “You were to me. It’s why I gave both of them black eyes two weeks later when we returned to school and they were telling everyone about seeing your pink panties with the purple butterflies, except they left out the circumstances, wanting everyone to read more into it.”

  I stop cycling, putting one foot to the ground. “You never told me that was you!”

  “I might’ve had some help from Ryan and Slater, but it was my idea.” He looks pleased as punch. “They never breathed a word about you again.”

  “Wow.” I grin at him, and we resume cycling. “Any other secrets you’re hiding from me?”

  He looks deep in thought. “You remember the first time I took you to a Shawn Lucas show?”

  I nod eagerly. “As if I could ever forget. I cried when the tickets sold out in less than twenty minutes and I hadn’t managed to secure any. Then you surprised me with VIP tickets, and I nearly told you I was in love with you right there and then.” Dylan took me to my first Shawn Lucas concert a couple months before he landed his Microsoft deal and before we got together as a couple. I’ve always wondered how he afforded it, because money was tight in their household until he hit the big time with his app.

  “You almost burst my eardrums with your screaming.” He grins at me. “Man, you’ve a fine set of lungs on you, Gabby.”

  I laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited.”

  “Oh, I can think of a few other occasions,” Dylan teases as we cycle into the woodland area of the park. “Like all the other times I took you to his show.”

  From that point on, Dylan made sure he secured tickets every time Shawn Lucas played in town. Last year, he even got backstage passes, and I nearly had a coronary getting to meet the man himself. I’ve loved Shawn’s music since he first appeared on the scene, but his last album was simply phenomenal, and I can’t wait for his new world tour to kick off so I can see him performing “Midnight Dancer” live on stage. He wrote it for his girlfriend, Dakota, and it’s the most romantic song I’ve ever heard. His emotion literally bleeds through every word and you can tell he poured his heart and soul into the song. She’s a lucky girl. Not only is Shawn super-hot and super talented, he was also super nice when I met him, going out of his way to help me relax and not calling me out for my embarrassing fangirl gushing.

  “And now you’ve got that dreamy look on your face like you do every time you think of Shawn Lucas.” He rolls his eyes, pretending to be hurt, but I know it’s all an act.

  “You helped perpetuate the crush,” I tease. “And you don’t get to complain after the fact! But what does this have to do with you keeping secrets?”

  “Remember I told you my Xbox broke?” I nod, frowning. “It didn’t. I sold it to Matty Johnson to get the money for the tickets.”

  “No way, Dylan! You loved that Xbox, and your mom had saved up all year to buy you the newest console the previous Christmas.” My heart swells with love at the realization of his sacrifice. “I can’t believe you did that. That Xbox meant everything to you.”

  “You meant more, and it was worth it to see the look on your face at the show.”

  “You’re amazing, Dylan. I didn’t think you had the power to surprise me anymore, but you keep doing it.”

  “I’m sure I missed out on several boyfriend of the year awards for taking you to that show year after year. You’ve no idea how painful it was for me,” he says, deliberately downplaying it.

  He draws to a stop at the picnic area, getting off his bike and leaning it against one of the tables. Then he helps me off mine, taking the bag and my hand and pushing me gently down on the bench. “I know you secretly have a thing for him too. Fess up. I’m pretty sure I have documentary evidence of you screaming and singing along too,” I tease.

  For a second, he looks terrified until he realizes I’m joking. “Shit, you nearly gave me heart failure. If such a recording exists, you have to promise to destroy it. I don’t want my son witnessing that shit.”

  “You know I’m messing with you.” I shoulder check him, grinning. “I was far too busy fantasizing about Shawn to even think to record you.”

  “Ouch. Now she tells me,” he quips, helping me
unload the food and drinks. “Way to bruise a guy’s ego.”

  I hug him quick. “Aw, you know Shawn doesn’t hold a candle to you, Freckles. I only had eyes for you.”

  He smiles, but it’s sad, and I know what he’s thinking. I press my lips to his softly and briefly. “I love you, Dylan. I always have, and I always will. Forever and ever.” Tears well in my eyes, and I attempt to brush them aside, because I don’t ever want Dylan to know how hard it is to remain upbeat all the time. I don’t want him to see how devastated I truly am underneath my sunny façade.

  He presses his forehead to mine. “Did I love you enough, Gabby? Did I show you how much you mean to me? Did I tell you how you occupy my every waking thought? How much you brighten up my life just by being in it?” A sob leaves his mouth, and I wrap my arms more firmly around him. “Do you know how much I love you for giving me this precious gift?” His hands slip under my coat, landing on my enlarged belly. “Do you understand how much it means that you’ve given up everything to stay with me as I live out my final days?” He looks me straight in the eyes. “I have days where I’m so consumed with rage I want to punch the wall until I bleed, but then I remember all the good things in my life. Especially you, and I can’t hold on to the anger.”

  He removes his hands from my belly, cupping my face. “I love you so much for giving me that, too. For helping to ease this burden, and I’m so sorry that I can’t give you the future we talked about but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you’re cared for after I’m gone.”

  “You already have, and I don’t want you wasting your energy worrying about stuff. I just want to enjoy this time we have left together.”

  “If there’s any positive to come out of today, at least it means I should feel better now I’m no longer suffering the side effects of the chemo and radiation.” Fierce determination washes over his face. “I know there will come a time when I won’t have much energy, and I won’t be as mobile, and my movements will be restricted. But, until then, I want to fill each day with as much happiness as we can squeeze in.” He places a soft kiss on my forehead. “So, what do you say, baby? How about making some new happy memories you can share with our son?”