"Hate doctors. Hospital smells." She scrunched up her nose then pressed her face against my chest. "You don't though. You smell like dirty sex."
My voice felt shaky. "Oh yeah?" I pushed to my feet and heaved her into my arms. "Pretty sure you're going to regret that compliment when you're lucid."
"Lucid?" she repeated. "Like ice cream? I think I want vanilla. What are you going to have, Sergio?"
I took one look at her pretty face and answered honestly — maybe the most honest answer I'd had since being with her. "Chocolate."
Her smile was weak. "I love chocolate."
"Me too, Andi."
"You were mean."
I carried her down the stairs. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sick." Andi tucked her head underneath my chin. "I think… fever."
"We'll get you better." I was saying it for both of us, because I wasn't sure I could handle her getting sicker. It did something to me. I felt powerless — I hated that feeling. I opened the door to my Escalade with one hand and gently put her down, pulled the seatbelt tight, and buckled it.
"Don't make me go." A big fat tear slid down her cheek. "Please."
I swallowed the tightness in my throat. "Tell you what… after we visit the hospital, how about I take you to get some chocolate ice cream?"
She closed her eyes; another tear slid, then another. "Promise?"
"Yeah, Andi." I wiped her tears away. "I promise, but right now we need to get you to the hospital, okay?"
She gave a weak nod.
The minute I got into the SUV, I gripped the steering wheel and cursed. It was too close to home.
She didn't know that.
I wasn't even sure anyone else knew — other than Ax and Nixon.
I didn't push her away because I hated her.
I was terrified of her.
The fear choked me the entire way to the hospital. I didn't need to MapQuest it, didn't even need to check my phone for the closest one.
I knew this hospital by heart.
Just like I knew the cancer wing by heart.
Because my mom had died of the very same thing.
I'd lived through it once.
I wasn't sure I'd actually survive it twice.
Every move was mechanical. I tried to detach myself emotionally as I lifted Andi out of the car and walked into the ER.
But memories assaulted me.
The smell was the same.
"Let her go, she wants to go," the nurse said. "Say goodbye."
"No!" I yelled. "If I say goodbye, she'll leave!"
"Son," my father said in a gruff voice. "Don't make a scene."
My mom reached for me, her hand outstretched. I tasted blood in my mouth. Maybe I'd bitten my tongue. Maybe my heart had broken, and that was what happened when hearts broke inside the body. They bled from the inside out.
Our fingertips touched, just briefly before my father ripped me from the room and told me to stop crying.
Ax was in the corner, his face haunted.
And it was Nixon who finally held me before I collapsed onto the floor. "She's gone, she's gone, Nixon she's—"
"She's in heaven," Nixon said simply.
"No," my father said behind me. "People like us don't go to heaven… we go to hell."
I jerked away from Nixon and lunged for my father. I pulled the gun from his own holster and pointed it at his face.
He laughed. The bastard laughed. "What? Are you going to shoot me in the hospital? When you're the guilty one?"
The gun shook in my hand. "Guilty one?"
"Remember this." My dad sneered. "You killed her. You killed your mother — not the cancer. You did this. And you know why. Such a disappointment."
"Don't listen to him, Sergio," Nixon said behind me. "He's a bastard."
"He may be a bastard, but he's right." I was fifteen but not stupid. I knew the truth.
It was my fault my mom had died. I had no one to blame but myself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Andi
MY MOUTH WAS DRY AS A DESERT. I'd always hated that expression — what was worse? Actually being able to use it and know that it seriously didn't do my situation any justice.
Water.
I opened my mouth to ask for it.
And suddenly, like magic, a cup appeared, and the cool liquid trickled down my throat.
I opened my eyes.
Sergio was sitting on my bed.
Not next to it, but on it.
I blinked. "What are you doing?"
His expression wasn't readable. Damn him. He truly kept his emotions on lockdown. "Giving you water."
"No, I mean on my bed."
He held the water to my lips.
I sipped deeply then pushed the cup back. "Th-thanks."
"I went to med school." The information was offered freely.
And since he didn't tend to share anything about himself, I chose not to speak, hoping my silence would help the moment.
Sergio's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth together. "I never finished. My involvement with the feds and the family… well, it made things difficult. But that's not the point. The point is this." He reached for something in the chair. When he pulled back, I felt myself get sick to my stomach. He had my chart in his hands. I tried to reach for it, so I could jerk it away and throw it across the room, but he held it out of my reach.
"So…" I licked my lips and looked down at the scratchy hospital blanket. "…you really can read. Good for you."