“Did you get your transplant shortly after that?” His voice has lost its power, and I want to reach out to him but know he needs to get through this on his own terms. If he wants the contact, he’ll initiate it.
How much should I tell him? I’ve already skipped a lot of the gruesome details, so I don’t see why I need to make this worse than it already is anyway.
“It took several months.”
He turns his head to look at me. “And your heart was okay until then?”
Crap. Did he hear something in my voice? Why does he need to ask the questions I wanted to spare him the answers to?
He winces at my expression.
“I’m not going to lie and say it was a fun time, but it all worked out in the end. At least for the time being, and that’s what I choose to focus on.”
“I can understand that.” He looks up at the sky that’s a little brighter than when I first came down. “So, you’re okay now?”
“Right now I am, yes.”
“For how much longer?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
The color drains from his face, and this time I can’t help myself and reach out to place my hand on his back. I don’t move it but want him to know I’m there. And as weird as it sounds, I want to be there for him, even when it’s about me in the end.
Unlike him, I’ve had many years to come to grips with my diagnosis and life situation though.
And I know that everyone works through the onslaught of emotions differently. I’ve seen it with my friends and family, and myself. There’s no right or wrong way to deal with the kind of pain and grief that comes from knowing that the chances of surviving this in the first place and then living for a long time are stacked against you.
But that’s where I come in.
Because after overcoming the shock and going through my own phases of anger, grief, sadness, and depression, I came out on the other side ready to fight. Even if I couldn’t have the life I always thought I’d have, I still wanted my life. I still wanted me.
Noah opens his mouth when his phone vibrates in his pocket.
He gets it out just as it stops and sighs in frustration when he looks at the screen. “Damn it, my sister’s called a gazillion times.”
“Call her back to make sure she’s okay.”
He gets up and steps to the far edge of the property. I don’t know if he doesn’t want me to hear their conversation, or if he wants to put some distance between us, but it’s easy to tell he’s tense.
When he comes back, his shoulders are drooping. “I’m sorry but I have to go. I forgot I promised my nephews I’d take them swimming this morning. My sister is going to drop them off soon on her way to work.”
“No worries, I have a bunch of work to do anyway. We can talk more later if you want.”
His eyebrows rise. “Yeah?”
“Of course.” How could I say no to him? The look on his face, the concern, reminds me of what it used to be like when he looked at me. That he wanted to know when he’d next see me. It gives me . . . hope.
“Okay. Well, I better get going, then.”
“Okay.”
He shuffles his feet, and I clear my throat.
This must be the weirdest morning after ever.
Especially with our history and everything I just unloaded on him.
I just wish that spark of hope I can feel burning brightly in my chest would go away.
Because there’s no future for Noah and me.
No matter how much I want it.
And no matter how much it will break this heart too in the process.
Twenty-Two
Noah
My sister will be here in about twenty minutes, and I go through my morning routine as fast as I can, taking my toothbrush with me into the shower. The last thing I need is my sister telling me that I smell like sex.
Though I can’t deny that I love the smell of Chloe on me.
Probably more than I should.
Because sex with her . . . holy shit. Talk about the best sex ever.
I could devour her all day long if that was possible.
And just like that, my mind gets away from me. Imagining her under me, on top of me, in front of me.
With those perfect breasts.
And that scar.
Fuck.
How is that possible?
My brain wants to push those thoughts away and focus on better things, on happier things. But what good would that do me?
It’s not like I can escape reality. I don’t have any personal experience with heart transplants or transplants in general. A quick Internet search this morning confirmed what I already knew. Anti-rejection drugs keep your body from rejecting your new organ. The thought alone that her body could decide to reject her new heart makes me sick.
But beyond that, I now also know about the lowered life expectancy, and that it lowers with every passing year. If that realization isn’t enough to bring anyone to their knees, I don’t know what is.
I try my hardest to keep the emotions at bay, to not let them in, but the pain slams straight into my chest anyway. And isn’t that just ironic?
The look in her eyes when she told me she doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be okay. The almost casual way she talks about her own life.
I’m also not sure how honest she was about everything. I wouldn’t put it past her to spare me some of the info, some of the details. To try and protect me again like she did back then. How could she do that to me, though? And to herself? To both of us?
My brain battles with my differing feelings, not sure what to focus on. Because shit, I’m mad. So fucking mad that she took away the chance for me to be there for her, no matter how good her intentions were. I loved her so damn much.
To know that she went through this by herself while I was moping around here, upset about our breakup. And then I channeled all my emotions into my swimming, keeping my eyes straight on the prize, on my future.
But the devastation keeps pushing at the anger, making me dizzy and numb.
When she left, when we said goodbye without knowing our lives would change forever, she was my sunshine. The one person who could always make me laugh. My little bird.
To imagine her hooked up to monitors, her chest pried open to take out her heart because it had failed her. To know she could have died right then and there, and in all those years since from the consequences of that surgery.
Would I have known? If she had died, would I have been told? Surely her parents would have . . . Fuck. I was so angry that she’d broken up with me, but not for a minute did I imagine a world where she didn’t live in it with me. Still longing for her no matter how livid and devastated I was.
I cover my mouth with my shaking hand, and the thoughts become too much, causing me to sway on my feet. The sorrow is so strong it brings me to my knees.
Why didn’t I call more often? Why didn’t I try harder to reach her after she broke things off? Shouldn’t I have known that something was wrong? That she wouldn’t just finish us and tell me that we should explore what else is out there?
The fact that she broke us to protect me and my fucking career still hits hard. The same career that hadn’t even existed at that point, yet she’d already believed in it anyway.
A strangled sob escapes me as the water pours down over me, washing away the remnants of the one person I thought I’d lost forever.
My beautiful, selfless, brave, and irrationally stupid Chloe.
A surge of energy courses through me as I snap out of my puddle of misery because fuck it.
Fuck. It. All.
I’m here now, and I’m not going to give up easily.
Not when I know what really happened.
I wash up and get dressed in record time, zooming out of my house just when my sister pulls into my driveway. I hold up a finger so she knows I’ll be right back.
And then I’m across the street.
Knocking on Chloe’s door. Hammering o
n it when she doesn’t open right away.
But then she does. Her wet hair is slicked back over her shoulders, her eyes wide and slightly red, her mouth forming the perfect O as she stares at me.
I step into her space and cup her cheeks in my hands. “Don’t think for even a second that you can get rid of me this easily again, you hear me? Not a fucking chance.”
And then I kiss her, taking everything she gives me, before spinning around to walk back across the street.
Past my gasping sister and the giggling boys in the back of her car.
Then I throw my bag in the car, usher the boys into mine, kiss my still-stupefied sister on the cheek, and reverse out of my driveway to go swimming with my nephews.
“Stop it, Uncle Noah.”
“Never.” I keep splashing Mason and Alex until they swim out of my reach.
The boys and I moved to the kids’ pool after we swam a few rounds in the big one, or according to those two rascals, we were “competing,” and they won. At six and eight, they’re both amazing swimmers, enrolled in swim lessons as often as they can with my sister’s work schedule.
I haven’t been able to swim with them as much as I’d like, but these random mornings with them have been good for me, especially now that I’m on my half-forced, half-needed break from my otherwise grueling training routine.
Even though it’s been good for my mind to slow things down, I’m also itching to do something. I’m just still not sure what it is. Do I want to go back to my career and do another few years of it, participate in some more competitions and maybe another Olympic Games, or am I ready for a change in my life?
Chloe pops into my mind like she’s been waiting right at the edge of it, which she probably has. This woman has turned my life upside down in more than just one way, never far away from my thoughts.
Making me question and reevaluate the last ten years of my life.
I know I can’t change any of it, but I can’t help all the what-if questions either that have been bombarding my brain.
“We’re gonna go down the slide, okay?” Mason yells across the pool even though it’s not that big.
I give him a thumbs-up. “Be careful. And remember, no running.”
“Okay,” they both yell as they get to the far end of the pool to climb out.
I make my way to the deeper section of the pool where the other end of the tunnel water slide is. It also allows me to keep an eye on the boys as they climb up the spiral ladder that leads to the top of the water slide.
“Hey, man. What are you doing here?”
I turn at the voice, watching Ryan and Jace make their way over to me. “Hey. I was wondering if you guys might be here today.”
Loud squealing and splashing accompany them, making me smile.
It also makes my ribs squeeze, reminding me once more what I don’t have in my life.
Ryan is wrestling Isabella, who we quickly noticed seems to take after Harper, just as wild and loud as her mom, while Tanner is happily kicking his feet on Jace’s back.
“Where’s my Izzy?” I hold out my arms toward Ryan and take the little wiggle ball from him, who gives me a toothy grin in return. “Hey, sweetie. Want to hang out with Uncle Noah? Your daddy is no fun, is he? He’s way too old for that.”
Ryan points his finger at me. “You’re lucky you’re holding her right now, or I’d show you old.”
I laugh, which Izzy takes as her command to splash some more.
Jace stays a few feet away, pulling Tanner off him and giving him the kickboard they brought. That kid loves the water, they both do. But where Izzy gets excited, Tanner is more chill, more eager, and focused on learning how to be a great swimmer, wanting to be just like his dad.
After checking that Mason and Alex are still doing okay—it’s almost their turn for the slide—I look at Jace. “Is it just you guys?”
He nods. “Yeah. Tanner doesn’t have preschool today, and Em and Harper are shopping together for Izzy’s birthday.”
As if she knows we’re talking about her, Izzy splashes harder and squeals.
Ryan blows out a loud breath. “Harper’s going a bit overboard, but whatever makes her happy, right? It’s not like Izzy will remember her first birthday.”
Jace nods. “Seriously. Em went nuts for Tanner’s fourth birthday last month, but he loved it.”
I grin at the thought of that party. “The construction party was awesome. I’ve always wanted to eat a giant pile of dirt.”
“That chocolate cake was dope,” comes from Ryan.
We all chuckle, knowing how easily we can get excited over normal things after being on such rigorous training plans for so many years.
“Daddy, look.” Tanner smiles widely as he gains some good speed in the water, the board stretched out in front of him, his little legs kicking up a storm in the back.
“Good job, buddy. Remember to tell Mommy later when we get home.”
“Okay.” He slows down as he gets closer to the edge before he turns around to come back to us.
Emilia and Jace had quite the start together when Jace hired her as a nanny for Tanner, the son he didn’t know about until he turned up on his doorstep last year out of the blue. Thankfully they make the perfect team.
I turn to Jace. “Is Millie feeling better?”
He mutters a quiet curse. “Yes, thank goodness. It has gotten so much better since she started her second trimester.”
“I’m glad.”
“Uncle Noah, we’re coming.” When I look up to the top of the stairs, the boys are already gone.
Ryan holds up his hands, moving closer to the end of the slide where the kids are thrown out. “I’ve got the boys. You keep that little stinker for a few more minutes.” He smiles at his daughter in my arms, who squeals and drools all over my hands.
“Incoming,” Mason yells while he’s still in the slide, and I chuckle as he flies out of the opening. Ryan is there when he breaks through the surface to pull him aside, just in time for Alex to follow suit.
The boys grin from ear to ear, bouncing in Ryan’s arms with excitement, especially when they spot Jace, Tanner, and Izzy too.
We go back over to the shallow end that has a small kids’ play area they all love.
Ryan takes Izzy from me when she reaches for him, but his gaze stays on me. “Have you figured out yet what you’re going to do?”
And just like that my stomach hardens. All of the worry and uncertainty has been pushed aside for a while by everything Chloe. She’s been a great distraction in that aspect. But it’s never been far away, just waiting under the surface to find an opening to slip through.
I shake my head. “Not really.” I try to keep my voice neutral. It’s not my friends’ fault that my life has been unraveling at the seams like someone’s pulling at the strings, unknotting one thing after the other.
After sharing a look with Ryan, Jace drums on Tanner’s board. “Do you have time this week to meet up? We wanted to talk to you about something if you’re interested.”
I nod, curious.
But before I have a chance to ask, Mason and Alex spray me with water, practically begging for a water fight. Foolish nephews. Let the fun begin.
Twenty-Three
Chloe
“I’m so sorry I’m late. Everyone and their neighbor was at the store for some reason, and the lines were atrocious.” Eadie plops into the metal chair across from me and blows out a breath.
“No worries.” I smile at her, always happy to see her. I made a few friends in Los Angeles but never got really close to anyone. First, there were my health issues, then my dad got sick not too long after I finally got better. My grandpa passed away in between too, and I was content to be with my family, help wherever I could, spend as much time together as possible, especially when everything was so uncertain.
And I honestly was just happy to be alive, while also mourning what I’d lost. Not just the people, but also the things I’d let go. The life I’d wanted so bad
ly.
When I got my first job with a small publisher, I quickly figured out that throwing myself into my work was the perfect escape for me. It became my solace. And I had my uncles and Eadie to constantly message and video-chat with too. That was all I wanted, what I knew I could have, and that was enough for me. Mostly.
After rummaging through her purse, she pulls out her wallet and points at my tea. “Do you want another one? Or some food?”
I shake my head. “No, thanks. I just got a new one right before you came.”
She nods. “Sounds good. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” I pick up my pencil and turn to a new page in my drawing book. I already finished my work for today, putting the final touches to an adorable rhyming book for babies. Bringing these little characters to life, imagining what children might enjoy. I love it.
It’s something that’s always come easy to me. It doesn’t matter if the words are easy, or the story isn’t long, I always have a blast imagining the characters and coming up with the perfect illustrations for the stories.
Now, this competition from the big publisher, that’s a totally different ball game. We’re supposed to draw the illustrations for the first chapter of a major young adult novel. The series has been so successful that the publisher is planning on publishing all books as an illustrated collection as well.
I know the books inside out, having read them several times before I heard about the competition, but I still haven’t had a good idea about how to bring the characters, the story, to life.
The story is about a girl who finds out she’s the daughter of the biggest dragon trainers without even knowing that dragons exist. The story is amazing. Addicting. The character growth, the love story, the storytelling itself, it’s all absolutely beautiful. Magical.
The first chapter begins with her in her normal life, having fun with her girlfriends, giggling over boys, moaning over her chores. And then she’s kidnapped and told about her responsibilities. That her parents disappeared, and she’s the key to finding them.
Second Dive: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Kings Of The Water Book 3) Page 14
