“What happened?”
“Just that his dad seems to have gone off the rails again… and his little brother, Teo, isn’t doing well.”
Off the rails. Sounds bad. “Is his brother sick?”
“Yes, but Dylan won’t say more. Seriously, we’ve asked a thousand times, but we won’t tell us what the problem is. It’s driving everyone crazy. But he looks bad. His grades are slipping. He’s already lost his scholarship, and now he may even lose his job.”
Christ. “What can I do?”
“Nothing until we find out more. The only person Dylan might open up to is Zane. He needs to talk to Dylan.” She shakes her head. “Let me call Ash.”
I sip my coffee and look around the cafe, not really seeing anything, my thoughts wandering from Dylan to Zane and back. The whole Inked Brotherhood is built on pain. I knew that from the moment Audrey explained to me the thing about the dragon tattoos—the moment I decided I deserved one, too. But they hide their pain well. It’s not until they break down and everything collapses that we others get to see the festering wound.
I put down my coffee when Audrey passes me her phone. “It’s Ash.”
Suddenly nervous, I wipe my palms on my jeans before I grab it and answer. “Hi, Ash.”
“Hey.” His deep voice vibrates through the phone. “Auds says you wanna ask me about something?”
“Yeah.” And now I feel like a busybody, asking him this, especially when he’s in the middle of trying to figure out what is happening to Dylan. “It’s about Zane’s sister.”
“Emma?”
Emma. She has a name. “Yes.”
“You have news about her?”
He sounds like he knows something, and I forge on. “I just wanted to ask what you know about her. She’s sick, right?”
A silence greets my words. Ash is probably thinking about hanging up on me.
Shit. “Look, Zane told me she’s sick, and he’s off to visit her. I just want to know what is wrong with her. I want to help Zane, but it’s hard without knowing stuff.”
Not sure I’m making much sense, but maybe he hears my worry in my voice, because he says, “Okay.”
Okay what?
“Emma has cancer.”
I blink. My stomach cramps. I’d feared this but had hoped against all hope it was something else. “What sort?” I croak. “Will she live?”
“Breast cancer. I thought she was in remission. Haven’t been able to get a single fucking word about it from Zane in months now, though.”
Cancer. No wonder Zane is so worried.
“Do you know something I don’t?” Ash asks.
“Nope. Sorry.”
“Never mind,” he says, sounding tired. “Got to go now.”
Like Zane said this morning. “Thank you. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help Dylan.”
“Thanks.” There’s more warmth in his voice when he says this. “Take care.”
I should take care of Zane, I think, as I pass the cell back to Audrey. Everyone is so focused on Dylan right now I have the impression they don’t see how close to breaking Zane is.
But how can I help him? Can’t do much when he’s not here. When he clearly stated he didn’t want my company this weekend.
Do you give a person you care for what they want, or what they need? Do I know what Zane needs?
Debatable. I’m not wiser than other girls my age. Not all-knowing. Still, I’ve been somewhere most girls my age haven’t been: close to death, close to utter despair. So maybe I do know what Zane needs. Maybe even more so than Zane himself.
It’s late when I return to the apartment. I stand in the living room, feeling out of sorts without Zane there. The silence is oppressive. So I undress and go to bed, but can’t sleep. After tossing and turning for hours, I give up. My feet take me to his bedroom, and I sit on his bed. His dark scent wafts around me, and I curl up over the sheets, burying my nose in his pillow.
I wish he were here with me. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
I drift off like that, waking up at some point to burrow under the covers, his scent surrounding me like his embrace, lulling me back to sleep.
And wake up with a scream caught in my throat, flailing. Falling. I expect to feel the impact on my back, I expect water to fill my mouth, and my body to lose all sensation as I sink lower and lower, unable to move.
No. I can move. I’m okay. My hands shake so badly I can barely grip the covers, but I do, and I throw them off me. I wiggle my toes, then lift my feet, first the one, then the other. I can move. I’m okay now.
Trembling, I get up and walk to the kitchen. My heart is beating so fast I’m dizzy. Cold. Shaky. I need something warm. Grabbing a filter, I set about making coffee.
If Zane was here, he’d have held me until I forgot all about the damn dream. The damn memory.
I could call him.
The idea stills me. He’s with his sick sister. Why disturb him for a dream?
Then again… I glance at the gurgling coffee machine, then at his empty seat. If he doesn’t want to answer the phone, he doesn’t have to. Tears are stinging my eyes, and for some reason, of all the people I know, it’s his voice I need to hear.
Because he promised not to let me fall.
Chewing savagely on the inside of my cheek, I go in search of my cell. I find it in my purse. It looks dead. What the hell? I shake it and curse at it. The battery can’t be empty. I charged it yesterday, before meeting Audrey for coffee.
Dammit. I plug it in again and watch as it lights up.
And then powers down again.
Oh no. I so don’t need this. As I move around so much, this is my one steady number where my parents and everyone can reach me. I check the port, check the socket and the plug, jiggle it, making sure it’s connected. The screen flashes on again, and I see a text from my mom.
Shit.
It’s about my Aunt Carolina. She’s at the hospital. She wasn’t feeling well, and she had some more analyses done. They’d have the results in a few days.
What to do? If Mom calls and my phone is dead, then… Then she’ll call Bella, or Audrey. She has their numbers. But perhaps I can give her Zane’s number, too. He’ll be back tomorrow, and if she calls, he’ll pass the phone to me.
Quickly, before my phone dies again, I send Mom his phone number and tell her to ask for me if she needs to talk, until I get my own phone fixed.
I barely manage to hit send before the phone dies again. Not even sure the text went through, I stare at my crappy phone.
Not a good start to this Sunday.
Suddenly I’m desperate to get out of the house. I’m not supposed to meet the guys at the park before noon, but I shower and dress quickly in a white sundress and sandals and head out. The sun warms my face and bare shoulders, the warmth slowly seeping deeper.
But I’m still cold.
I pass by Bella’s apartment, but nobody answers the doorbell. I wander the sleepy town and buy ice cream, because life without ice cream is plain sad, and I want to shake the sad off me.