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."