“He’s a good boyfriend.” I wanted to continue, but words felt too heavy.
“Did I come here so you could tell me about The Jock?” His words were cold and slick as marbles. His eyes were scorching a spot on the wall behind my head.
“No, that’s not why I wanted to see you; I wanted to make sure you’re not mad at me.” It hurt I needed a reason to see him, and he had to be asked to come.
“I’m not,” his voice softened to exhaustion.
“Good.” I wasn’t sure I believed him, and I had so much I needed to tell him. “Thanks for coming to check on me that morning, I never got to say that.”
He raked his hair into unruly points. “Mi, I didn’t sleep that night. All I could think was: you were alone and upset. I didn’t want to leave you and I drove like a maniac to get back.” A riptide of accusation tainted his words. “But you weren’t alone.”
“Would you rather I was? That was the worst night of my life. Yeah, Ryan stayed over. So what? Why do you even care?”
My voice was climbing as I clutched my calves and tried to hold myself together. “You’ve got Meagan—you were so quick to run after her when she was upset. Why do you care if Ryan does the same for me?”
He looked at me—eyes dark and hopeless. I couldn’t stomach the intensity without crying. All I’d done lately was cry. This time, however, I didn’t know whom the tears were for.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t care.” His sigh echoed with resignation and reverberated in my chest. “But what does Meagan have to do with this? I don’t know what you want from me. Now I’m not allowed to have any female friends but you?”
I lowered my chin to the hollow between my chest and legs and peeked over my knees at him. “There’s a big difference between female friends and girlfriends.”
“Exactly.” He stood and paced the room, picking up a throw pillow and mashing it between his hands. “And Meagan will never be anything but a friend to me.”
“What?” I recoiled from his outburst. No. Gyver couldn’t be single. He couldn’t. Because if he was … I’d just said yes to Ryan, after “jerking him along” for a month. And he was a good guy. A great guy.
“Mi, don’t you get it?” He was gripping the pillow so tight his fingers disappeared to the second white knuckle.
I shook my head. I didn’t get it. Nothing made sense.
“I know you have your perfect boyfriend and don’t need me anymore, but wake up! Can’t you see?”
“I didn’t mean—” The words clumped and clogged my throat. “And Ryan—” I shook my head again.
“I’ve got to go.”
“Gyver! Wait. Please?” I stood and ran to him, grabbing his arm with both hands. I tugged on his shirt until he turned around. “Please.”
There was so much I needed to say, but only one thing I’d rehearsed. The idea I’d been battling and gagging on all week. The words it only felt safe to tell him and the words I needed to get out. “At the hospital that night, it was the first time …” I sucked in a raspy breath. “The first time …”
“Mia, you’ve made yourself clear. I really don’t want to hear any more.” He pulled me into the briefest of hugs, then pushed me away. “Rest up. I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’ll see you soon.”
Soon wasn’t tomorrow. It wasn’t I’ll call you later. Soon was vague. I watched him walk away, wishing I knew the words to call him back—not just to my house, but back to August.
He hadn’t listened; he hadn’t let me finish my thought: At the hospital, it was the first time I realized I might not beat this. I might die.
Chapter 37
Monday night we got the call that my white blood count had rebounded. My parents reluctantly agreed to let me return to school on Tuesday. After refusing Dad’s offer to drive me, Mom’s “are you sure you don’t want to stay home just one more day?” and armed with extra anti-bac gel and strict instructions to call and check in, they sent me off with anxious first-day-of-kindergarten smiles.
Underneath my oh-Mom-I’ll-be-fine facade, I was a mess. Hil wouldn’t call back and Ryan wouldn’t meet my eyes when I asked about the Calendar Girls. I’d promised Hil the truth but hadn’t had a chance to deliver. It wasn’t my fault this time, but the cumulative weight of my past lies marked me as guilty and slowed down my getting-ready routine so I was thirty minutes late.
“Hey, stranger. I didn’t know you were back.”
I shut my locker to see Chris standing there with a sheepish grin. “Hi.”
“Do you have a sec?” He juggled his bathroom pass from one hand to the other, then shoved his free hand in the pocket of his jeans.