He shot me a confused glance, but nodded. “Thanks. It smells great.”
She waited until he’d left before whirling toward me. “Mia Ruth, what were you thinking? After we worked so hard for your privacy.”
“I had to tell him.”
“Why? I thought secrecy was what you wanted.”
“But why is it a secret?” It had made sense at one point, now I wasn’t sure.
“It’s what you wanted: no one to know so they would treat you the same.” Her voice was stern and I felt ashamed, like I’d done something wrong.
“I know. But I had to tell him. He asked me out. I had to explain.”
“You and Ryan Winters?” The tension ebbed from her face and grasp. “That’s great, kitten!”
“I said no.”
“But why? It’s Ryan, honey. You used to glow when he’d drop you off after a party, and you’d blush and run to your room if he called.”
“That was last year.”
“So? As you’ve gotten to know him better, you like him less?”
“No.” I sighed. She’d never understand how I could turn him down. In her mind he was perfect—we were perfect together. “It just won’t work.”
“Because you won’t give it a chance! This is exactly what you need right now: a distraction and someone who makes you happy.”
This type of debate could go on all night, or at least until I gave in. I couldn’t concede, but perhaps if I offered her a partial victory. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
Mom kissed my forehead, her face radiant with the same smile she’d worn when I first made the squad. She jumped up. “Oh no! We’ve left him alone with your father. He’s probably filling Ryan’s head with all sorts of cancer facts.”
I followed my maternal hurricane down the stairs, praying dinner wouldn’t be a disaster.
Chapter 21
Over pork chops and mashed potatoes Ryan was fully indoctrinated into Team Cancer. Dad went into excruciating detail about treatments and warnings: keep Mia away from germs, wash your hands, stay away if you feel sick, don’t get her too tired, absolutely no drinking because of the meds …
Mom beamed at Ryan and repeated, “But she’s going to be fine. All the doctors say so. Don’t worry.” I could practically see the thought bubble hovering above her head: This is the popular, athletic boyfriend I’ve always wanted for Mia. Can’t let him get away.
I’d said “maybe” in my bedroom, but Mom chose to hear “yes.”
Dad continued. “I know you don’t play football, but this is the only sports analogy I can think of. The first round of chemo switched the cancer from offense to defense. It’s no longer attacking Mia’s body. We’ve got control of the ball now and each consolidation round of chemo—like the one she’s starting on Saturday—is a new first down. It keeps us in control. And when she’s had enough …”
“Touchdown?” Ryan guessed.
“Something like that,” Dad agreed. “When she’s done the maintenance chemo, she’ll be cancer free, hopefully for good.”
He wasn’t exaggerating, but it was an intimidating speech. Combined with Mom’s over-the-top enthusiasm, I wouldn’t have blamed Ryan if he fled. But he didn’t. He paid attention and asked questions. He nodded and smiled at Mom’s repetitive reassurances. He borrowed books from Dad’s library of leukemia resources. He squeezed my knee under the table.
I started to doubt myself—to believe him. Could he possibly be serious?
“Can I pick you up tomorrow? Are you going to school?” he asked at the front door.
He looked nervous, like I’d never ridden in his car before, like I might say no. “Sure.”
He kissed my forehead and we hovered close for a second before he stepped back. Apparently the time for casual kisses had ended. “It means a lot that you trusted me, even before you told the girls. I’m not going to screw this up.”
“I know.” And I meant it. There was something about seeing him vulnerable that made me feel protective. I’d done this to him, drained him of the confidence and carefree attitude—the things that made him Ryan.
I touched his cheek, smoothed over the skin where his dimples should be. “You’re a good guy, Ryan Winters.”
And they were back—the confidence, the charm, the dimples. “Then go out with me.”
“Ryan—” It was a sigh-yawn hybrid. I’d slept all day, but tonight had depleted me and left me more exhausted than I’d been this morning.
“Fine, I’ll stop asking, but let me try and change your mind. Every girl wants to be chased, right? Let me chase you and we’ll see what happens.”
I looked at him. Looked beyond him through the glass door to the shape of Gyver’s Jeep in his driveway. “I really don’t think I’ll change my mind.”
He pulled me closer. “I consider myself warned. All I’m asking for is a chance.”
I could feel his breath across my cheeks. If I looked up, I knew he’d kiss me now. I wanted to.