Always and Forever (25 page)

Well, how could I argue with that?

“That chair—” She pointed to the pea-green recliner in the corner. “—does fold out into a bed if one of you would like to stay with her.”

“That's not necessary,” I jumped in, even though inside I was hoping and praying that one of them would tell me I wasn't going to be left here alone. Hospitals at night never failed to give me a raging case of the creepy-crawlies.

Mom didn't have to say anything, just gave Dad a look and he nodded. “I'll go home and pack you a bag.” He came over to my other side, leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You need anything, princess?”

“Yeah, a new body,” I joked, relief flooding through me that I wouldn't be left alone tonight. “Preferably one that's cancer-free.”

A small sad smile touched his lips. “I'll see what I can do. Anything else?”

I shook my head, and he was gone. Dr. Shreve followed close behind him, telling Mom that if we needed anything to have one of the nurses call her.

Mom pushed away from my side. “Will you be alright for a moment, honey? I want to run down to the cafeteria before they close and get some coffee. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I guess. A little.”

“Mia? Thank god we found you,” Dave sighed heavily from the doorway. He popped his head back out into the hall and called out to Brad. “Babe, she's in here.”

“Perfect timing, huh?” Mom smiled, ruffled my hair, and stood up. “I'll bring you back something.” She turned a stern look on Dave. “Don't wear her out too much, David.”

He jerked his head in a quick nod. “We won't, Mrs. G. I promise.”

Brad chose that moment to burst in, his hair standing out in wild, spiky, tufts, like he'd been pulling at it incessantly. “Mia,” he cried out, all but running at me, his eyes puffy and red-rimmed. He threw his arms around me, his head falling to my shoulder, his tears soaking through my gown as he sobbed. “Jesus, Mia. I was so fucking scared. We stopped by your place. You were gone, and there was all that blood. It was…” He shuddered against me as memories assailed him.

“Shh,” I crooned in his ear, sliding my arms around him and patting his back awkwardly. It was strange, comforting such a big, burly guy. A complete role reversal. “I'm alright, Brad. Just took a nasty fall, is all. Teach me to cross an icy walkway.”

Dave was right behind him, hands on his boyfriend's hips, gently pulling him away. “I'm sorry, babe, but you've got to let her go. You're too heavy to be lying on top of her like that.”

For a split-second, I was afraid Dave would have to get out a crowbar to pry his boyfriend off me, Brad tightened his grip on me so much, but then he released me, pressed a fervent kiss to my cheek and straightened up. Dave pulled a chair up for him, and Brad gratefully dropped into it. Then, Dave leaned forward and dropped a soft kiss in the same spot Brad had.

“I'm glad you're okay, Mia,” he murmured against my cheek.

“Thanks,” I whispered, happiness that at least I hadn't chased all my loved ones away stealing over me. “How'd you know I was here?”

“Kal,” they answered in unison.

“We thought we'd stop by your place on our way out,” Dave said, repeating Brad's earlier rushed words. “Kal and Dr. Patel were outside, cleaning up the…er…mess on the sidewalk. They told us what happened.”

“Oh.” I swallowed, trying to think of something to say to that. I really didn't want to think about anything even remotely related to Kal right then. Possibly not ever. “You guys look nice,” I noted, eyeing their matching black dress pants. Dave had his paired with a shiny crimson shirt, while Brad opted for the whole
Man in Black, Johnny Cash
look.

“It's our anniversary tomorrow,” Dave explained. He shot a small, secret smile in his boyfriend's direction. “But he's got a wrestling meet, and then we're going to my cousin's wedding. So, we figured if we wanted to celebrate, it'd have to be tonight.”

“Oh, guys, I'm so sorry I ruined your night. I—wait.” I rubbed my temple, more from habit than from pain, and turned a confused look on them. “But I thought you guys first started dating when you were away at camp a few years ago. So how can your anniversary-”

“Uh, it's not that kind of anniversary,” Brad cut in quietly, his face coloring sixteen different shades of scarlet before finally settling on a hue very close to the rich red of Dave's shirt.

“I don't under—oh.” Heat rushed up to my face in one giant swell and splashed obscene red across my own cheeks to the point that I probably looked more like a beet than Brad, if that was at all possible. “Well, that is something to celebrate,” I finished lamely.

“Yep,” Dave smirked. He clearly enjoyed making his boyfriend squirm. “The day I finally got my boy to give up all his goodies. Definitely cause for celebration. Isn't that right, babe?”

“Dickface,” he growled under his breath.

“Dickface?” Dave hooted; a broad grin cracked his face in half. “My face looks like a dick? Well, that explains why you like kissing me so much.”

That knocked a startled laugh out of me as Brad glared daggers up at his boyfriend. Both boys spun around to look at me. Dave grinned like a mental patient while Brad frowned, confused.

“You think his being an assclown is funny, Mia?”

“Baby, I'm only a clown over your ass,” Dave countered, sweetly, which made me laugh even harder.

Brad's fist shot out, snake-strike fast, and landed a punishing blow to Dave's side. “Think that's funny?”

Still chuckling, even as Dave glowered at his boyfriend, I leaned over and caught Brad's arm and pulled until he levered himself out of his chair and climbed up onto the bed beside me.

“Don't be mean to Dave,” I whispered in his ear, hooking my arms around his neck to keep him anchored to me. “He's just trying to make me laugh, ease the tension.”

“Well, he doesn't have to be such a dick about it,” Brad grumbled.

“Yeah, but it made me laugh,” I admitted. “So, you should forgive him. Go out and celebrate your anniversary. Have fun. For me.”

Brad leaned back, brow creasing in a frown. “You want me to have sex with him for you?”

“What? Uh…” Behind us, Dave's laughter boomed throughout the room. A quick glance at Brad's grinning face, and I knew I'd just been had. I swatted him in the chest and pushed at him until he rolled off the bed. “I didn't mean that, and you know it. Perverts.”

Mom reappeared at that moment, grease-spotted bag in one hand, Styrofoam cup in the other. “Visiting hours are almost over boys,” she told them as she settled into the recliner beside me.

Both boys rushed forward, mumbled their goodbyes, and pressed feather-soft kisses to my forehead. Then, they were gone, leaving me alone with my mother. Wordlessly, she handed me the bag, and then turned on the television, channel-surfing while I picked at the club sandwich she'd brought me.

Finally, I could bear the silence between us no more. I pushed the rolling table away and curled up on my side, facing her. “I'm sorry, Mom,” I whispered, a fresh supply of tears finding their way up to my already overworked eyes. “For everything.”

“Oh, honey,” she set her coffee down and climbed up into the bed with me. She snuggled beneath the covers, looped her arm around my waist, and pulled me in close. “You've nothing to apologize for, Mia.”

“But I was so mean to you, and Christmas morning when—”

“Nothing,” she repeated gently. “This whole thing has been hard. On everyone, not just me. I can only imagine how hard it's all been for you.”

“I hurt a lot of people,” I admitted, guiltily. “You and Dad and Ben—”

“We've already forgiven you, Mia. We love you, and that's all that matters now.”

“Ricki,” I added.
And, Kal.
But I couldn't bring myself to voice his name. That just hurt so much more than I could bear.

Mom nodded. “You'll have to talk to her. The sooner, the better, but it'll work out. Whatever it was that tore you two apart, it can be fixed.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because it's true, Mia. We all love you, including Ricki. And Kal. They're both hurting right now, but that won't last. They'll come around. I promise you that.” She drew me in close and began humming under her breath, an old lullaby she used to sing to me when I was little. When I was sick the last time.

I curled into her, content to hide in her arms for the moment. There, the shadows and the terror melted away. All I found was safety and forgiveness in her embrace. And love.

And, for that short space of time, I thought that maybe things would work out for the better. Maybe, everything would be okay.

T
WENTY
-N
INE

HE NEVER CALLED,
never stopped by to see how I was doing. Not once, which confirmed for me what I'd already known. I'd killed off all of Kal's feelings for me. Every last one.

Dad and Ben arrived at the hospital around noon the next morning to pick me up. After my parents signed all the necessary discharge paperwork and scheduled a follow-up appointment with Dr. Shreve, I was unleashed back out into the world. But with Mom and Dad's edict that
Mia shall not ever, ever be left alone again
, I was pretty much held prisoner inside the house.

Not that I felt like going anywhere, anyway.

I stayed home from school that whole week, not because I didn't want to go. I just couldn't be bothered to summon up the energy to argue with Mom and Dad about it. Mom took off from work and fussed over me every waking moment—and probably during the hours when she should have been sleeping, too. Dad cut his hours nearly in half and brought more and more work home with him until the dining room table was piled high with legal briefs and law books.

I spent most of my time sacked out on the living room sofa, watching Ben play video games. At first, he tried persuading me to join him, but after nearly three dozen failed attempts, he stopped and instead retreated into his war games. I watched with bored fascination as he picked off army guy after army guy. If nothing else, the kid would have a brilliant career as a military sniper.

By Wednesday, I was about to crawl out of my own skin from the boredom. So, I was probably a little more excited to go to Dr. Shreve's office than I should have been, but hey, my confinement was over, at least temporarily.

Dr. Shreve didn't say or do anything that I wasn't already prepared for. Blood was drawn. MRI and CAT Scans ordered. Then, she wrote me more prescriptions, for pain, for nausea, and even one for depression, though obviously, I wouldn't be taking that one. She smiled sympathetically through it all and then handed Mom and Dad a business card, saying simply,
if any of us ever needed to talk to someone
.

Like a shrink could help me. Hello? Dying here. What's the point in talking to some quack therapist about it? Nothing would change. So, what was the point?

The one good thing Dr. Shreve did for me was convince Mom and Dad that I was alright to go to school,
for the time being
, she'd amended at their dubious looks. But still, starting next week, I'd be back to at least a semi-normal kind of life. That was something.

None of us spoke on the ride home, and when we walked through the door, I headed straight upstairs, more tired than I could ever remember being. Mom followed quietly behind me, making sure I made the short distance without incident. Any other time, I might have snapped at her, told her that I wasn't an invalid, but really, I was just too tired to do anything more than bat her hands away as she tried to tuck me into bed. Then, I curled up on my side and listened as she padded out, closing the door softly behind her. When I was sure I was completely and utterly alone, I let the first tears fall free, tracing hot, salty tracks down my face to pool on my pillow.

When my eyelids fluttered open again, the light in the room had shifted, slanting through the windows in such a way that told me I'd slept most of the day and afternoon away.

“I thought you were going to sleep straight through,” Brad said as he moved easily from the chair and up into the bed with me. He scooted in close; heat from his big body radiated outward and splashed over me in scorching waves.

“How long have you been here?” I yawned. “Watching me sleep. That's borderline stalker behavior. Should I be worried? Maybe see a judge about a restraining order?”

“Go ahead and try.” He let loose a deep laugh. “I can just see the headlines now.
Paranoid girl thinks gay football player loves her. Mental health professionals worried
.”

“I could turn you straight if I wanted to.” I poked him hard in the ribs. “But I like Dave too much to do that to him.”

“I'm sure he appreciates that.”

Stifling another yawn, I curled into him and rested my head on his chest as he hooked his arm around waist to pull me in closer. “The wardens are going to let me out next week. Time off for good behavior.”

“Yeah, they told me. That's good news, right? I mean, you can't be that sick if you can go to school.”

I yawned again, not willing to burst his bubble. Lying to those I loved hadn't really gotten me too far. But what was the truth, really? I mean, I was dying. We all knew that, but when? Would it be soon? Would I even have an inkling of when my time was coming to an end? A part of me fervently hoped so, but there was that little but loud voice inside that didn't think so. Honestly, I could die at any minute, just close my eyes and never open them again, and I had no control over it. None.

“I offered to play chauffer, but your mom said no…well, politely of course,” Brad continued, blissfully unaware of my tumultuous thoughts.

“I don't think she's ever been intentionally rude to anyone,” I grumbled. “She's like a saint or something.” At his grunt, I lifted my head, resting my chin on his chest so I could look at him.

“Did you ever talk to Kal?” he asked suddenly. Apparently, he'd been working up to that this whole time. “I mean, before the fall? Or did that happen before you got a chance—”

“Yeah, I did.” I pushed off him, rolled over on the bed, and presented him with my back. The less people to see me cry, the better.

“Jeesh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that Kal isn't—are you crying? Jesus, Mia, don't do that.” His hand was suddenly right there. His fingertips glided over my wet cheeks and wiped away my tears in gently soothing strokes. “Please don't cry. If there's one thing I can't handle, it's a weeping woman.”