A hand touched her shoulder, and Amy stood up, still wheezing. Tears leaked from her eyes.
“Are you … okay?” Delia asked. She rubbed a hand along Amy’s spine. “This reaction is scarier than having you throw your coffee at me.”
Amy giggled again, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Honestly, I did think about that. It’s not funny. None of this is funny. I’m so mad at you, Delia. I don’t remember being this mad in my life.” As she said the words, the depth of that emotion hit her, and Amy took a step away from her sister. She didn’t want Delia’s hands on her.
“I deserve that. I really am sorry.”
“I believe you, but that doesn’t fix things. It doesn’t fix anything at all. Look, I’m going back to bed. Why don’t you just go? Lock the door on the way out.”
Amy left Delia standing in the kitchen and went back to her bedroom. She should have remembered how stubborn her sister was. Delia followed her in, eyeing the bed with all its crumpled tissues. Her nose wrinkled.
“Are you sick? Is that why you look so …”
Amy spun around to face her sister, anger simmering dangerously close to the surface. She didn’t want to be this person. Her emotions felt totally out of control, and she realized she hadn’t prayed about any of this. Not since she met with the doctors. She hadn’t prayed about the cancer, or about Sy.
If she was completely honest with herself, she was angry with God. She’d struggled with that before, back when she was younger, and she knew that it never helped to shut him out.
Sighing, Amy sank down on the bed. “Actually, yes. But that’s not why I look like this.”
“What is it? Flu?”
Amy shook her head. Before saying the words, she thought about changing her mind. But she knew it was time.
“Breast cancer.”
The whole world seemed to still at the words. Delia stood near the doorway, frozen, her mouth open. Amy swallowed, and the sound seemed to fill the room.
“No,” Delia whispered.
Amy nodded. “I got the results this week. I’m supposed to start treatment next week, but I can’t bring myself to call and make an appointment.”
Once she’d said these words, it felt like she’d uncorked a shaken bottle. All the words came out.
“I told Sy we couldn’t date, like I promised you. I hope you’re happy, because I’ve never been so unhappy in my life. I am miserable. My heart is in a million pieces, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m probably going to die. At least one of us deserves to be happy. So, I hope you are.”
Amy dropped her face into her hands, her whole body shuddering with a sigh.
When the bed dipped, and Delia’s arms snaked around her waist, Amy leaned into her sister’s embrace. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d hugged like this. Delia smelled unfamiliar, and that tiny detail bothered Amy. Even after everything Delia just admitted, Amy didn’t want it to be that way between them. She sniffed.
“This isn’t fair,” Delia said. Her voice sounded raspy, and when Amy could feel her shaking.
Amy squeezed her more tightly. It wasn’t fair. She’d just been thinking that. Somehow, hearing someone else say it out loud helped her see the futility of that kind of thinking. She needed to get over herself. Get over her anger with God and her bitterness about it all.
But Sy …
Amy shoved thoughts of the big football player away. Even if Delia had been totally selfish, in a weird way, she made it easier for Amy to let him go. Even if it was twisted and a jerky thing to do.
“I need to call my doctor and make an appointment.”
“Dr. Harmon?”
“No. His specialty is different. Though he did meet with me and my new doctor this week. He had to basically drag me in.”
Delia pulled back, studying Amy’s face. They probably matched each other with red eyes and tear-streaked faces. Frowning, Delia tucked a strand of Amy’s limp hair behind her ear. “Why didn’t you want to go in?”
“Would you want to?” When Delia shook her head slowly, Amy sighed. “I just didn’t want it to be real. I didn’t want to go through it again or put anyone else through it again. I’m so tired, Deels.”
Her eyes took on a determined glint that Amy knew well. It was the look of a woman with a plan. “Now I feel okay about not going back to California. I’m going to stay and take care of my baby sister.”
Amy’s lips twisted, even as her heart warmed. “When you put it like that …”
“Shut up.” Delia pulled Amy close again. “Now I feel extra-bad about the Sy stuff.”
Amy stiffened. Why did Delia have to bring up his name? She had been doing so well … at least for a few minutes. Her chin trembled. Amy tried and failed to hold back a sob.
“Ames? What is it?” She stroked Amy’s back.
For a moment, Amy struggled with her sobs. Her whole body shook with the effort. “I—I think I love him.”
As soon as she said the words, Amy could feel the truth of them. She’d suspected her crush had become more. Especially after spending time with Sy this week. If she’d just met him, she would be crushing on him. Maybe infatuated. But add this week to their history? Love was the only word that fit.
And she’d had to let him go.
Her sobs grew louder, and Delia’s hand stopped moving up and down Amy’s spine. Her fingers curled into Amy’s shirt.
“You … love him?”
Amy nodded against her sister’s shoulder, the only movement she could really make.
“Oh, Ames.” Delia tucked Amy’s head beneath her chin and rocked her gently. “I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I’m so, so selfish. I should have realized—”
“I don’t think I even realized.”
“Well, I should have. I take it back. You’re released from the deal we made. I should never have asked you to do that. I’m the worst sister. I’m so sorry.”
Amy leaned back so she could see Delia’s eyes. She’d never seen her sister look so real, so vulnerable.
“You’re not the worst sister.” She chose her next words carefully. “You are selfish sometimes, and this was definitely one of those times. But don’t you see? I can’t date Sy anyway. Not now that I know this. I’ve got cancer. I’m not dragging him into that again.”
Delia pierced her with a firm look. “You didn’t tell him about the cancer?” Amy shook her head, and Delia’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I know Sy. He’d stay with me out of guilt. No. He needs someone without … issues.”
“That isn’t your choice to make. You have to tell him.”
“He’s gone. It’s done.” Amy shrugged.
“There are things called phones. Charge yours and we’ll call him.”
“No.” Amy shook her head. “I’m not doing this to him. It’s not fair. Letting him go is what’s best for him.”
“It’s what you think is best for him. But he’s an adult. And he gets to choose, Ames. You aren’t allowed to withhold that from him and make a decision like that. It’s his to make. You’re being selfish. Trust me, I would know. Remember—I’m the selfish one.”
Amy closed her eyes. “I don’t want him to be with me because he feels sorry for me. I don’t know if I can handle his pity. I’m so over pity. I had enough of that as a kid.”
“Did Sy ever pity you? When you were young and scrawny and bald from all the treatments, did he ever look at you like he felt sorry for you?”
“No, but—”
“That’s enough.” Delia stepped back and got a serious look on her face. “We’re calling him. I’ll call him if I have to.” She pulled out her phone.
“No!” Amy wrestled the phone from her sister’s hand and pulled it close to her chest. “Promise me. We’ll call the doctors and make the appointments. But no calling Sy.”
“Amy, I really think—”
“Promise me.”
For a few beats, the sisters glared at each other. Amy never won these kinds of arguments. But
today, Delia sighed and held out her hand, palm up. “Fine. No Sy.”
Amy placed the phone in her hand, and Delia stood, her hands on her hips. She resembled more of the bossy big sister Amy knew, but the sight made her smile.
“I won’t call Sy, but you have to do some things for me. I’ll slap you if I have to, but you are going to stop wallowing in this filth. First, I’m going to make you some fresh coffee while you shower. You stink. Then, we’re charging your phone. I’m assuming it’s dead since it’s been going straight to voicemail. Plug it in. I’ll call your doctor and set up appointments or whatever you need to do, if the office is even open. I’m guessing you haven’t told Mom?”
Amy shook her head. “I was going to wait until after Christmas. I didn’t want to ruin the holidays.”
Delia rolled her eyes. “Again, you shouldn’t have taken that decision away from us. We’re with you. We’re family. If anything, it will make us embrace the holiday more. Okay?”
“I think I like you best when you’re bossy. Forget acting. You need to be in charge of things. You’re good at this.”
“Noted. Maybe that will help me with my job search.”
“Are you really going to stay in Katy?” Amy asked.
“At least for now. We’ll talk about me later, after we take care of all your stuff. The next order of business? Get Sy back.”
“Nope. Not on the agenda. You promised.”
“Ugh. You’re impossible. Fine.”
As Amy stepped under the hot water a few minutes later, she let the stinging spray turn her skin crimson. She wanted it to burn off her insecurities, her fears, and her worries. Telling Delia made her feel slightly better, and she even felt a sense of lightness about her relationship with her sister. Which was shocking, really, considering what Delia had done.
Maybe that was one gift cancer gave: perspective. Delia did something awful and selfish, but Amy still loved her, and she wasn’t going to waste any more time being mad. Honest? Yes. But not angry.
Is Delia right about Sy? Is it his choice to make?
Those questions scratched uncomfortably against her mind until Amy managed to shove them away. A big part of her, a selfish part, would love to tell Sy. She could imagine his response, and what it might be like to go through this with him beside her.
No. Amy hardened her resolve. Maybe it wasn’t fair to him to keep him in the dark and not give him the choice, but love was doing what was best for other people. And sadly, Amy knew that letting him get more attached to her with this uncertain future wasn’t the best thing for him.
Chapter Eighteen
Sy
Sy checked his phone again, then turned the treadmill up higher. Sweat dripped from his body, but he just kept pushing himself. Pushing or punishing? Maybe a little of both. Not that a hard workout could be more of a punishment than walking away from Amy.
He hadn’t really expected her to call or text, but he couldn’t stop checking his phone. Just in case. Sy could have sworn that he saw hesitation in her face when she told him it was over. Like she didn’t really want to be saying goodbye to him. Or didn’t fully believe the words she was saying.
Almost as if she regretted the words even as she said them.
It would have been easy to blame Delia, but Sy blamed himself. He shouldn’t have been afraid to speak up at dinner that night. He could have been more clear and more up front, telling Delia he wasn’t interested.
Or maybe it simply was too complicated with their shared history, and the fact that Delia and Amy were sisters. Maybe nothing he did would have been enough.
Sy’s calf began to cramp and he slammed his hand down on the button to stop the machine. He stretched for a few minutes, then wiped down the treadmill. The temperature had dropped outside, but a swim sounded nice. His pool out back was heated, except in summer, of course. San Antonio wasn’t as hot as Houston, but close enough. If he could have dumped ice in the pool daily during the summer months, he would have.
Sy checked his phone again. It was like a reflex. Groaning, he turned it off and left it on the kitchen counter, then stripped off his shirt and shoes and dove into the pool in his workout shorts. Sy had too much time and not enough to fill it.
With nothing to do other than obsessively looking to see if Amy had messaged him, Sy worked out, ate, and slept. Though he didn’t spend every holiday with his family, Sy generally planned better when he didn’t. He would join a buddy or teammate to do something. The totally open schedule unnerved him.
Swimming had never been his strong suit, but Sy started a slow crawl from one side of the pool to the other and back again. Even when he wanted to relax and unwind, he couldn’t. When he arrived home, Sy walked into his empty house and realized something. He had recreated the home he remembered and hated from his childhood: empty and alone. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but that’s what he had.
It had never bothered him so much before. Or he just kept so busy that he didn’t have this kind of downtime to think about it or to really feel it. Surrounded by the team so much of the time, his time away had felt like an escape, peaceful and serene. Usually, he stayed in town at his one-bedroom loft closer to practice. But with more time, he came out to his house, perched on a hillside thirty minutes outside of town, overlooking a lake.
Was that what he wanted? A life with no family, coming home to an empty house?
No. He’d always known it somewhere, deep down. But now, after spending time with Amy, he knew for certain that he didn’t want to be alone. Nor did he want to be with just anyone.
He wanted Amy.
And not just because it was Christmas Day and Sy was alone. He had missed Amy every day, every hour, and every minute since he walked out of her bed-and-breakfast.
He finished a few more laps and pulled himself out of the pool. Goose bumps broke out over his skin. Sy stood by the iron fence at the back of his property, looking down over the lake. There was a trail outside the gate that led down to a small dock with a paddleboat. It had come with the house and he’d tried taking it out—once. You really needed two people on either side to paddle or the thing spun in circles. He’d barely made it back to the dock.
This was stupid. Sy didn’t want to give up so easily. Amy made it sound like she didn’t want him, but he felt the connection between them. He could see the way she pulled away in their last conversation, like it took effort. Her words said one thing, while her body language said another.
Sy walked back inside, dripping all over the wood floors. It didn’t matter. If he had to live alone in a place like this, the wood floors were the least of his concerns. Turning on his phone, Sy sent a text to Amy.
Sy: Ames, I miss you. I know you said this couldn’t work, but I have this feeling like I shouldn’t give up. I don’t want to give up. I’m going to leave you tickets for our game. Three—for you, your mom, and Delia. We have a box, so it will be super fancy. Come if you want. I know I’d play better knowing that my number one fan is watching.
Sy: PS- I saw your stalker closet. So I know you want to be there.
For the first time in days, Sy smiled. He imagined Amy rolling her eyes at his second text. Maybe her cheeks would turn pink from embarrassment, but she would still smile. She’d probably give him a hard time for going into her room when she wasn’t there.
Only, she never texted back. And then he started second-guessing everything.
Was she mad that he went into her closet while she was gone? Embarrassed? Was he wrong thinking there was something real between them? Had he just made things worse between them?
They can’t get much worse.
That was the honest truth. She lived in another city and had told him that she wouldn’t be with him because of her sister. Sy felt oddly jealous of the relationship that she and Delia had. I mean, that’s what came between them, but at least she had family she was close to. Even if Delia was selfish and didn’t deserve it. That was Amy—faithful even to people who she could have walked away from.
At least sending the text showed her that he hadn’t given up. A text was hardly a big statement, but it could be a start. Because the one thing that Sy felt clearly was that he didn’t want to give up. No matter what it took.
He only had to hope that Amy really hadn’t given up on him either.
When his phone rang, Sy almost dropped it. He was sure that he’d see Amy’s number on the screen. Whether she was angry and felt like he violated her privacy or was happy to hear from him and wanted the tickets, he didn’t care.
But it was Delia’s number flashing on the screen.
Sy kept one hand firmly on the kitchen counter to steady himself. He held the phone in his palm until it stopped ringing. Only to start again a moment later. Delia again.
With his lip curling, Sy answered. “Hello, Delia.”
“I’ve only got a few minutes.”
“Why are you whispering?”
“Look. Amy doesn’t know I’m calling. And I deleted your texts, so she hasn’t seen them.”
Rage bubbled under his skin so hot that Sy really swore for a moment that he could see red. “Delia,” he growled. “How could you—”
“Shut up and listen. It’s not what you think. I’m on your side. Team Amy and Sy. Amvester or Sylamy—wow. Y’all have terrible ship names.”
“Ship … what?”
“Relationship names—never mind. Look. I’m trying to help. Amy won’t want to come. I can explain more later but right now she’s in the other room. But I think I could get her to the game.”
Sy tried not to let himself get excited. Especially since it sounded like Amy still didn’t want to come. He was having trouble following everything Delia said, maybe because his brain was still catching up to the fact that Delia was calling him about Amy. Saying she wanted to help. He actually pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the name on the screen.
“Amy doesn’t want to see me?”
“She does.” Delia sighed. “It’s complicated. Look. If I get her to you, can she stay with you a day or two?”
Stealing the Bad Boy Page 16
