I'm actively trying to piss her off and she's still concerned.
It's that bad.
"You got in a fight?" he asks.
"No. She ended things." Emma stares at the cell in my hand. "Are you going to put that away?"
"Not planning on it," I say.
Ryan shoots me a serious look.
Fine. I slide my cell into my pocket. It's not like I'm actually going to snitch. I need the damn thing gone. It reeks of Chloe and her cordial, all business text.
Ryan surveys the shop. At the moment, it's just the three of us. Walker is at lunch. Brendon is on vacation.
He looks to Emma. "Do me a favor, Em."
She smooths her dress. "Sure."
He pulls a ten from his wallet. "Grab a cup of coffee. Come back in twenty."
Her eyes go to the clock. "You sure you want to deal with him?"
"Who else is gonna do it?" he says.
"Fuck you." This is bullshit. I have an appointment in twenty minutes. I'm trapped here. I have to listen to his lecture.
I move to the Keurig in the lobby. Plug in a pod. Fill a cup with water from the cooler.
It's not like I'm gonna drink the shit tea this thing makes.
But I need some sort of distraction.
Ryan and Emma whisper. She nods in agreement then moves toward the exit.
"I'm sorry, Dean. I hope you two work things out." She pushes the door open. "Let me know if you need to talk." She steps outside and disappears in the afternoon light.
Ryan crosses the room to me.
He nods to the teal bench against the window. "Let's talk."
I stay put. "Let's not."
"What would you do if you were me?"
"Give you shit until you explained."
"So, skip the middle step."
It's a reasonable suggestion. But reasonable isn't appealing at the moment. Reason isn't getting me anywhere.
Things were good with me and Chloe. I was there. And now, exactly when she needs me, she's gone.
Reason suggests she doesn't trust me.
That, like everyone else, she sees me as a good time and nothing more.
Reason is my fucking nemesis.
Reason can die in a fire.
Tea fills the paper cup with a steady drip, drip, drip. It's total crap. It even smells like coffee.
Ryan takes a seat on the bench. Leans back. Rests his head against the window. "Never seen you this miserable."
"'Cause you haven't looked."
"I know you've been this miserable. But I've never seen you wear it with pride."
Pride is the wrong word, but he's in the right ballpark. I shrug. "Am I getting on your turf?"
"No." He folds one leg over the other. "Being an asshole isn't gonna get me to back off."
"It might. If I dial it up to ten."
He shakes his head. "I'm gonna babysit you until you spill." His voice is steady.
His expression is confident.
I know my brother.
He isn't going to back down.
But that doesn't mean I have to make this easy for him.
The Keurig spits out the last drop of tea. I wrap my fingers around the paper cup. Bring it to my lips.
It's terrible, but the familiarity is comforting all the same.
I take a seat on the bench opposite his. Sip my tea like this is a normal Tuesday afternoon. "How's your girl?"
"Good. How's yours?"
"You heard Em. She isn't my girl anymore."
He raises a brow really, you're stopping there.
Yeah. That feels like a good place to stop. I opened my heart with Chloe. Now she's gone. What's the fucking point?
"Why'd she end things?"
"Why do you care?"
"You're my brother. My friend. I love you."
"Didn't realize you could admit that."
He shoots me that same really look.
I nod. Yeah. Really. Ryan isn't the cuddly type.
"Did she end things?"
"What do you think?" The sass does nothing to soothe me. It's empty. Useless.
"You're only convincing me you need help."
I guess I do.
"Let's try this again." He turns so we're face-to-face. "Why did Chloe end things?"
I reach for a sarcastic response. Find nothing. I don't need attitude. I need understanding. And nobody gets heartbreak better than Ryan does. "She didn't say."
"You do something?"
I rack my brain for something, anything. "I fell in love with her."
"Does she know?"
"Maybe. I didn't tell her."
"You should."
Something tells me that isn't going to fix shit.
"You've got a knowing look, Dean."
I shrug. Fight my desire to push him away with a sarcastic insult. This whole opening my heart thing isn't my strong suit.
He doesn't buy it. "Why'd she bail?"
"She's dealing with some shit. She doesn't trust me to help her." That's the only explanation that makes sense.
"She trusted you to teach her."
"Yeah."
"To fuck her and not abandon her again."
"Who told you that?"
"You." His lips curl into a smile. "Just now."
"Fuck." I shake my head. "Rookie move."
My brother nods yeah. "I'd expect better."
"Give me a break. I'm heartbroken."
"You are."
"Don't gloat."
"No. Just… Never thought I'd see the day."
"Me either."
He motions for me to hand my tea over.
I do.
His nose scrunches as he takes a sip. "Is it supposed to taste like that?"
"Like shitty, watered down coffee? What do you think?"
He tosses the cup in the trash. "How did that go down?"
"We were at the same party, back in high school. I thought… I guess I thought that would end it. Get me to stop thinking about her. But it didn't."
"And then you bailed?"
"It was just before graduation, yeah."
"She must have hated you for that."
I nod. "And for a hell of a lot more."
"But she got over it."
"I thought so."
"She did. She's bubbly around you."
Maybe. I don't fucking know anymore.
"Yeah. She is. She's as happy as I am around Leigh."
"You're an obnoxious motherfucker now."
"Thanks." He leans back. Takes a deep, steady breath. Exhales slowly. "Have you considered that this, her running away, isn't about you?"
The suggestion cuts through my armor. Am I being an egomaniac about this?
"She's freaking out about something." He raises his brow, inviting me to explain.
I don't.
"Is it possible she's locking you out because she's scared?"
"Anything is possible."
"Maybe it has nothing to do with trusting you. Maybe it's all about her."
Maybe. She was really fucking insistent about how awful it was watching her mother die.
Is she trying to protect me?
After everything?
After begging me to stay?
It's possible.
It's a brighter idea than sitting around here moping.
Ryan runs his fingers through his hair. "You figured something out."
"Maybe."
"No. It's in your eyes. You know what it is."
I might. "How much time do you have until your next appointment?"
He looks to the clock. "Twenty minutes."
"You want to help me with this?"
"What do you think I'm doing sitting here?"
"A yes would suffice."
He smiles. "Not with you, it wouldn't."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chloe
Tuesday stretches on forever.
I watch TV with my sketchbook and all the Earl Grey ice cream I can eat.
My heart begs me
to turn my cell back on. To call Dean. To tell him how wrong I was. How much I miss him. How terrified I am to do this without him.
But I hold strong.
It makes sense, in my head.
I can save him from this. I want that for him. I want to spare him the pain I felt.
But, God, for me…
I want to hold onto him and never let go.
A little after sunset, Dad knocks on my door. "Dean called."
I wipe my tired eyes. If it's possible to run out of tears, I'm there. "Is everything okay?"
"He told me about the test."
Oh.
Dad knocks again. "Come downstairs. I ordered pizza."
"I'm not hungry."
"It's veggie combo."
My stomach growls. "With peppers?"
"Extra."
"Okay." I push myself up from my desk chair. My sketchbook is still sitting on my desk, still open to the page of my current work in progress. Memento Mori covered in lush orchids. As if I need to scribble "remember your mortality" on my skin to realize I could die at any moment.
But Carpe Diem still feels too fucking easy.
I slip into my hoodie. Pull the zipper to my chest. Play with my sleeves as I follow Dad down the stairs.
The house is quiet. Warm. Light.
The smell of pizza wafts into my nostrils. Cheese. Tomato. Peppers. Mmm.
I take a seat at the table.
He grabs two plates from the kitchen, sets one in front of me, slides into the seat next to mine.
Mmm. That looks as good as it smells.
My hands are greedy. I reach for a slice. Let it coat my fingers with grease and flour. "Thanks, Dad."
"Of course." He's more careful about taking a slice and setting it on his plate. "You want to tell me what happened?"
No. Not at all. I take a bite to buy myself time. It doesn't help. "There was a spot in my MRI results." I suck a breath between my teeth. "Dr. Nguyen thinks it's a cyst, but we need to do a needle biopsy to be sure."
"You don't sound confident."
"Can we not do this?"
"Do what, baby girl?"
I take another bite. Once again, chewing and swallowing fails to offer insight.
I have to woman up and admit this.
Deep breath.
Slow exhale.
"I don't want to hear that my health is hard for you." I press my fingertips together. "I know it is, and I'm sorry, but it's hard enough for me. I can't take your feelings on top of mine."
"Oh, Chloe… no."
"No?" My brow furrows. What the hell does he mean no?
Dad's expression softens. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you needed to take care of me. After your mom… it was a bruise. But all I wanted was to support you."
"You did, but—"
"You had to reassure me that it would be okay. Just like your mom did."
I nod. "I don't want you to apologize for being worried about me. I was worried too." I swallow hard. "But I can't take it again. I can't take those scared looks, like I'm a vase that's gonna break."
Dad shakes his head. "You've never been fragile."
My shoulders relax. He's trying. I'm not sure if he's going to get there. But he is trying.
Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world, talking about this.
Letting my family support me.
I do feel lighter. Broader. Bigger.
Like I can take up space instead of curling myself into this tiny box that reads Cancer Survivor.
"Maybe. I don't know." I take a bite of my crust. Savor the fluffy doughy flavor. "I… I know you want to help, Dad, but I don't want to hear that the chances are nothing. Or that I should call Dean and make up and ask him to come. If I want to break up with him, I can."
His expression screws with confusion. "You broke up with him?"
"He didn't mention that?"
"No." Epiphany fills his eyes. "That explains a lot."
"Does it?"
Dad nods. "He was upset. It seemed unlike him."
"You barely know him."
"I could tell." Dad's smile is soft. "You think I let just anyone take out my youngest child?"
"I'm twenty-four. You don't get to screen dates."
"We're never going to agree about that."
"You really like him?"
"He makes you happy. He treats you well. Unless he has a drug problem I don't know about, I love him."
"No. He's a good guy." I take a bite. Chew. Swallow. But it no longer tastes like cheese and tomato perfection. "Is he okay?"
"Why don't you call and ask?" His voice drifts to that Dad I know what's best tone.
"No… I don't want him to get attached."
"He called to make sure someone was there to take care of you. He's already attached."
"But I can stop it from going further." I tear my crust into tiny pieces. "I remember. With you and Mom. It killed you, watching her die. Then losing her. Being without her. It's better if I spare him from all that."
His eyes turn down. “Baby girl…”
"But you… you never started dating again."
"I did."
"When?"
He arches a brow. "Is it that implausible."
"No. I just… you've never said anything."
"You think I want you screening my dates?"
"It seems fair."
He laughs. "Maybe. But that's the perk of being the parent. You don't have to play fair." He settles into his seat. "You're right. It was the most painful thing I ever went through, losing your mother. But I wouldn't trade that for anything."
"But—"
"No. You and Gia are the best part of my life. But even if your mom and I had never had kids, if it had just been the two of us, I wouldn't give up a single day of the happiness we had to erase the pain of losing her."
I swallow hard.
"This is life, baby girl. The highs and the lows. The pain that knocks you off course and the bliss that rights your ship. Loving someone, having that time with them, it's worth anything."
"But what if I'm—"
"He knows, doesn't he?"
"Yeah."
"So why is that your decision to make?"
"I don't know." I pull a green pepper from my slice. Eat it in two bites. "I just… I want to protect him. We're new. He can get over me. Find someone else."
"You sure about that?"
"No…" If Dean really went twenty-five years locking everyone else out, it's unlikely he's going to let anyone else in.
"And what about you? Are you going to be okay without him?"
"I'll feel better knowing I'm not hurting him."
"Keeping him from loving you?"
I bite my lip.
"What if he does already?"
"No. It's been nothing."
"Do you love him?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"You must care pretty deeply to want to protect him like this."
"Maybe."
"What if your roles were reversed? If he was sick? Would you walk away to keep from hurting?"
"Of course not."
"Why not?"
"Who would do that?"
"But you'd get hurt."
"So? Life is getting hurt. You'll never experience anything good if you're afraid of getting hurt."
Dad smiles. "You took the words out of my mouth, baby girl."
Chapter Forty
Chloe
Sleep eludes me. I toss and turn. I think about tests and promises and the look on Mom's face when she told us she was dying. The way my heart broke right there, then broke into a million smaller pieces as I watched her slip away.
Grief fills my memories as moonlight flows through the curtains.
But something changes when the sun breaks the horizon.
Orange streaks across the sky.
Dad's advice starts to make sense.
The ugly memories fall back to happy ones. The way Dad held Mom after they thought me and Gia were ups
tairs playing. The way they whispered each other promises. I'll love you forever, baby. I'm right here no matter what. Whatever you need, even if it hurts.
The night they celebrated their wedding anniversary in the hospital, him in a fancy suit, her in a standard issue hospital gown, white and cream cupcakes on plastic plates.
That perfect day he showed her toward the end. The tea room at the botanical gardens, the lush red roses unfurling for the sun, the flowering cherry trees blowing in the wind.
That look of peace in her eyes.
I didn't understand it when I was a kid. I was angry at the universe. I still am. But she had accepted it. She wasn't hurting anymore. She was savoring every last drop of life she had.
It's not like she was lucky to get cancer. I don't give a fuck that her illness made her appreciate what time she had left. There's no universe where it was a good thing.
But there's no way I'd trade never knowing my mother for never losing her.
And there's no way Dad would change a thing, if he could do it over.
And maybe…
I don't know.
I toss and turn until my alarm clock's beep grows too annoying to ignore. I strip, shower, dress, fix my hair and makeup. Today is a combat boots and dark eyeliner kind of day. Even if every day is a combat boots and dark eyeliner kind of day.
There. Perfect. I feel like shit, but I look badass. It's something.
Downstairs, I fix tea. Hustle though a breakfast of raisin bran and milk. By the time I'm setting the dishes in the sink, it's eleven thirty. I need to get my ass in gear. To face my fate. Even if it's bad.
I pull the door open, ready to block out the world.
But the world is there.
Dean is leaning against his car, sunglasses hanging in his bright blue t-shirt, eyes on me.
The storm clouds surrounding me dissipate.
With the sun bouncing off his light hair, he's positively angelic.
Maybe that isn't wrong.
Maybe it's every kind of right.
"I've got good news and bad news." He pushes off the car and moves up the concrete pathway. "Which do you want first?"
"The bad news."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"What's the good news?"
He closes the distance between us. Until he's standing on the porch a foot away from me. "I'm not going anywhere."
My lips curl into a half-smile. "What if I want you to leave?"
"Too bad."
Hating You, Loving You Page 27
