“You’re not a charity case…”
“You do know that being with me won’t bring her back, right?” That’s the last thing I hurl at him as I turn around and walk back to my dorm.
He doesn’t know what he wants.
And I won’t stand here and wait for him to figure it out.
28
JESSE
Being with me won’t bring her back.
Those are the words that have been replaying like a bad song on repeat for the last week. Those were the words she chose as she closed herself up to me and walked away.
I slam my head back against the headstone I’m leaning against. How could I’ve been so stupid, so blind?
I know that being with Zoe won’t bring back Hayley.
But I can’t help wondering if Zoe was right. Maybe some part of me felt that being with her could make up for losing Hayley?
It’s not completely irrational. Fucked up, sure, but not impossible.
I think even a psychologist would agree.
Why else would I fall for someone at the same hospital, on the same floor, suffering the same disease that took away Hayley? If not trying to live my relationship with Hayley through Zoe, then what the hell was I doing?
I don’t want to believe that this—me and Zoe—has all been a lie concocted in my mind. I don’t want to believe that I’d be such a fucked-up individual to use her that way.
But if that isn’t the case, then why didn’t I ever put words to my feelings? Why didn’t I ask her to be my girlfriend?
I leave the cemetery, driving straight back to the house. Whenever I usually come to see Hayley, I go home and feel at ease, but not today. Today, I’m wired.
I drive a little too fast and get home way too quickly. Parking against the curb, I get out of the car, slamming the door behind me, and walk towards the house. Letting myself in, I’m met with silence, which is not what I expected. There’s never silence in this house.
I head over to the kitchen, grab a Gatorade, and then head to the living room. Dropping down onto the couch, I put my feet up and switch on the TV, ready to watch something to drown my thoughts.
My plan is interrupted, though, when my phone rings.
“Dude, where are you?” Zack asks.
“Home, why?” I ask, using as few words as possible.
“Because practice is about to start, and Coach is going to be pissed!” he tells me. No wonder the house was quiet. I must’ve forgotten about practice with the roller coaster of a life I’ve been living this past week.
“Crap, I’ll … I’m on my way.” I stand up, hauling ass to my room to get my workout bag.
“How could you forget?” he asks, and the only answer I want to give him is Zoe. Zoe is taking up so much room in my mind that I apparently have none left for anything else.
Instead, I reply, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Seriously, you’ve been off these past few days. Actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen our girl around,” Zack says, referring to Zoe. It’s no surprise her absence is notable, and so is my piss-poor mood.
“She’s not our girl,” I retort, taking the steps downstairs two at a time.
“You know what I mean, Jesse,” he says.
Yeah, I knew what he meant. Zoe already felt like she was part of our family…
So why the fuck didn’t I do something to make her stay?
I lock the front door behind me and get in my car, shoving my bag onto the seat beside me.
“I’m on my way,” I tell him, switching the subject.
“If Coach asks, I’ll tell him you had some premed stuff to deal with, but hurry up,” he says, and I can hear the voices of my teammates in the background.
“Thanks.” He’s always had my back. He may not know everything, but that doesn’t stop him from being there for me.
“Again,” Coach yells as we run laps around the field. With each completed lap, I push myself a little further—try to run a little faster. Every drill Coach calls gives me the opportunity to take out all of my frustrations on my body. I know I’ll hurt tomorrow, but I need this today.
Being with me won’t bring her back.
Every time I hear those words, I push harder. Run faster.
Anything to get them out of my head.
Football practice ends a few hours later. The only thing I’m grateful for is the opportunity to work out and forget what’s happening in the real world. While I was working hard on the field, Zoe wasn’t on my mind. The moment I stopped though, she consumed my every thought once again.
Zack comes up to where I’m standing in front of the locker assigned to me. “Are you good?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“You don’t really look fine.”
“You don’t look so great yourself,” I joke, hoping to distract him from asking more.
“That’s a lie. I always look great,” he says. “But all jokes aside…”
“What?”
“What’s going on between you and Zoe?”
“Nothing.”
“I thought you guys were starting to… you know?” He waits for me to finish his sentence.
“We were friends.” I say it in past tense, flinching when the words leave my mouth.
“You guys are more than friends,” he says.
I wish it were true.
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
“Shit, if we’re gonna have a conversation about feelings, we’re gonna need to go for a drink.”
“You’re the one that wanted to talk!”
“Because I’m a good asshole. I’m gonna hit the shower real quick,” he says, “You should too; you stink.”
I follow him into the showers. “Where are we going?”
A chuckle escapes his lips. “Eclipse.”
“Do we have to sit and talk about our feelings?” I don’t know if I can put mine into words, even knowing that this is probably exactly what I need to do.
“We can either talk or drink so much, we forget our names. Either way, you look like you need a friend.”
“That doesn’t sound half-bad.” I need a distraction now that practice is over. Maybe a few drinks are just what will get the job done.
“Do you want it to be just us, or do you want the rest of the guys to join us?”
“Should I be preparing for an intervention?” I say half-jokingly.
He nods. “If that’s what you need, we can do that.”
“I don’t think a full intervention is necessary just yet.”
“Let’s just do the two of us, then,” Zack says, surprising me. He’s the type of guy that doesn’t settle down with any girl, the guy that teases Colton about being ‘whipped’, yet here he is, being extremely caring about my feelings.
“Thanks,” I tell him genuinely, glad to have him in my life.
“Don’t thank me, you’re paying,” he says with a chuckle.
“If that’s the price I must pay.”
He smirks. “My company is expensive.”
These guys have taught me that brothers aren’t always blood.
29
ZOE
The one thing I didn’t miss while at the hospital was attending classes, but it’s a welcome distraction. I’m buried in homework, with no time for anything else. That’s the approach I’ve taken with the whole Jesse thing—pretend it didn’t happen. I won’t cry. I won’t stay in the dorm moping around. I’m just going to pretend it’s all okay until it really is.
Despite how much having my work pile up on my desk sucks, it’s really a privilege for me to have it in the first place. I know I’d never choose the hospital over this.
Second chance, new approach. I’m going to start appreciating things more and complaining about them less. Let’s see how long that lasts.
I finish typing the last word on the history essay regarding colonization and save the document. I email it to myself, and then throw my folder in my bag. I have a few minutes to go over to the li
brary and print the essay before I turn it in. The professor says if it’s not in his hand a minute before class officially starts, then it’s an automatic F on the assignment.
Rushing out of the room, I slam the door closed behind me and forego the elevator, choosing to take the stairs. I run down the steps like they’re on fire. Zooming out of the front door, I run in the direction of the library. I should’ve started this paper when the professor assigned it instead of waiting for the last minute.
If Emma were here right now, she would’ve said ‘I told you so,’ and she would be right.
Emma: one.
Zoe: zero.
Approaching the student printing center, which is on the first floor of the library, I log on to the nearest computer, finding the document I’d emailed to myself, and hit print. As always, I have to run over to another computer and log on there too so that it finally releases my assignment. I watch each page print slowly as I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Six minutes. I have six minutes to get from this end of campus to the other. Six minutes to have this essay in my professor’s hand before it’s too late.
Five minutes now because the freaking printer is taking forever. For a second, I think it’s going to jam, and I swear my heart skips a beat.
Four minutes, and the last piece of paper finally prints. Grabbing my ten-page paper, I run over to the stapler and clip it on the top left as quickly as I can. I run out of there because there’s no way I’m going to make it otherwise.
Three minutes, and I’m outside, running toward the building my class is in.
Two minutes, and I can see the building. My breathing is heavy, and I think about how maybe I should spend more time working out at the gym instead of moping over someone that wasn’t mine to begin with.
I look down at my watch as my feet keep moving. One minute. One minute, and I’m making my way up the steps and into the building. My adrenaline is peaking, like I’ve run a marathon.
Thirty seconds, and I can see the door to my classroom. I don’t slow my steps because I know the professor wasn’t joking when he said it had to be in his hands a minute before class starts.
Finally, I reach the door and walk inside, where the professor waits with a hand extended. My heart is beating too fast, my breath escaping me just as quickly. I give the professor the assignment, turn and blink. My head is spinning, the room nothing but a blur. With a gasp, I’m transported back to freshman year—back to the last time this happened.
Black.
All I can see is black—shadows and darkness shifting uneasily. I suck in a shallow breath when the fragments of moments come together to form a very unclear picture behind my eyelids. In one frame, I’m arriving at class, handing my professor my essay. In the other, I’m falling to the ground, my body weak. In the third fragment, I hear panicked noises and sounds of people screaming, asking if I’m okay…but I can’t answer them. It feels like I’m not there.
The distinct sound of an ambulance rouses me, but despite how much I try, I can’t open my eyes. Then, I feel myself being moved.
Finally, everything goes dark again.
I manage to pry my eyes open briefly and realize I’m being wheeled into a hospital. The smell, the walls, and the sounds reminding me of every time I’ve been here before. Deja vu. The familiar fear consumes me.
I’m scared.
I’m scared of being here again. I’m terrified I didn’t actually get a second chance, but a prolonged first one. I’m afraid I’ve lost the battle I thought I’d won.
My eyes open and close as I’m taken to the examination room. In there, all I can focus on are the overhead lights. The oxygen mask is doing little to ease my breathing, and although there are mouths moving and conversations happening, I can’t make anything out.
Water.
Drowning.
I feel like I’m being submerged in the ocean and despite how much I try, I can’t get myself to come back up. I can’t get myself to find air, to breathe. So, I give up. I stop trying. That’s when I feel myself lose grip of my reality and give in to the darkness once again—the darkness that beckons me.
JESSE
I grab my coffee from the student worker at the café and start walking toward the table where the guys are chatting. On the way, I pass by Emma, who’s sitting with her nose buried in a book.
“Hey,” I say, giving her a little wave. I don’t know if she’ll reciprocate, especially if Zoe told her everything that happened between us.
She glances up, gives me a curt nod and returns to her story. Well, at least she didn’t throw the damn book at me.
“Hey! Did you hear about your roommate?” someone says to Emma as I walk by the table. Instantly, my feet are planted in place. I’m hit with a gut feeling, a familiar feeling, that something’s wrong. I’ve felt this unease all morning, and I can feel it intensify now. It’s the same feeling I had when Zoe didn’t message me back. The feeling I couldn’t shake when I was headed to the hospital to see Hayley that day.
“What about my roommate?” Emma bites back, ready to defend her friend.
“She passed out in class this morning!”
“She what?” I interrupt, the coffee falling from my hands and dropping to the ground.
The girl speaking to Emma looks at me, frowning. “Yeah, Zoe fainted in class.”
“What happened?” I’m infuriated by the lack of information I’m getting, and by the look on Emma’s face, she is too.
“She was handing the professor her assignment, then, all of a sudden, it was lights out. She was gone.”
“Where did they take her? Where is she now?” I demand.
“How is she?” Emma asks at the same time I do.
“The ambulance came in. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.”
I’m seething, and this girl is acting like it’s a fucking joke.
“Which hospital?” I ask, but I’ve already come up with the answer. If the ambulance picked her up, they would’ve taken her to the General hospital. They’d have seen her medical history and transferred her over to the Children’s.
This can’t be happening. She can’t be...
“I don’t know. I think they just take you to the nearest hospital.”
Before she can finish her sentence, I’m running out of the café. It’s only when I get to the parking lot that I realize my car isn’t here; I didn’t drive today.
“I got you,” Colton says from behind me, running straight to his car.
“Thank you,” I answer, thinking the absolute worst case scenario right now. She fainted. She passed out.
That’s a symptom of relapse, the voice inside my head tells me—the same voice that didn’t leave my side when Hayley was losing her fight.
“Get in,” Colton says, and I’m a little shocked to see Chase and Emma already in the back seat. Everything is a bit of a blur. I sit back, foot tapping, headache building, and watch as Colton speeds in the direction of the hospital.
Zoe.
Please be okay.
You can’t leave me.
“It’s going to be okay,” Chase says, comforting me. For some reason, I realize it’s the nicest tone he’s ever used. That’s not good. It means he’s thinking the worst too, otherwise he’d be telling me to calm the fuck down.
“It’ll be fine.” Colton echoes his best friend’s sentiments. I don’t say anything. I just sit here uncomfortably and drown in the emotions fighting to overtake me.
Worry.
Fear.
Anger.
I feel all of these emotions at once.
Fuck cancer.
Why have we figured out so much shit but not a cure for it yet?
She needs to live.
She can’t relapse.
This can’t happen.
Not again.
I shut my eyes, trying to muster up some sort of inner strength. I tell myself this is different, but it does nothing to relieve the feeling that I’m walking a tight rope and one misstep mean
s I lose everything.
One wrong move, and I lose the only person who makes me feel things I thought had died with Hayley.
Fuck.
She can’t leave me.
Not like this.
Not thinking the worst of me.
Not thinking I was just using her to get over Hayley.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. I wasn’t using her to get over Hayley. I didn’t want to get over Hayley, I just did.
Zoe was healing me.
Zoe was giving me life.
She needs to know I want her.
I need her.
I love her.
I’m in love with her.
The realization hits me at the same time that Colton’s foot hits the break in front of the hospital. I fly out of the front passenger seat, heading straight through the double doors and into the emergency room. Running over to the receptionist, I blurt out Zoe’s name, demanding to know where she is. She must’ve recognized me because she tells me where to find her.
I run up the stairs because the elevator would be too slow. My vision is blurry, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Not again.
I make it to the oncology floor, where Zoe has spent the last year either living or visiting. I don’t walk, I run. I run to where I know she’s supposed to be waiting. There are no words I have prepared. No fancy speech. Nothing. The only thing I care about is her. I throw a prayer up to the same God I have prayed to many times before asking for healing. For health. For safety. Though I’m skeptical he’ll listen.
Five doors, three doors, two doors, one. I come face-to-face with the room Zoe is in. I take a deep breath, forcing the negative thoughts out of my head, and open the door.
Opening this door is like reliving a nightmare I’ve barely survived before.
Like last time, the room is spotless. The bed is made. There are no creases, and no flowers, pictures, or active machines. Nothing.
Bragan Boys (Bragan University Boxset) Page 36
