At Any Moment (Gaming The System Book 3) (8 page)

His jaw tensed. “Bullshit.”

“Maybe I’m tough enough to get myself through it okay.”

His mouth thinned and irritation flashed in his dark eyes before he looked away. “Maybe you are. But maybe there are people here who want to help you anyway.”

I sighed. “Let me think about it. The last time we lived together…”

“This won’t be like last time. I’ll do everything I can to make sure of that.”

He was tense for while and I rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know you want to take care of me. But I’d like to think I have my independence for a little while longer.”

Despite what I’d just said to him, I knew that soon I’d be very sick and at the mercy of anyone willing to help me.

***

On the night before my procedure to insert a port for the chemo—and to have a portion of my ovarian tissue taken out to be frozen for possible later use (since this procedure was still experimental), Adam had to work. I assumed he was clearing the deck and setting things in motion so he could take more time off later to spend with me.

I sat on the couch and read the latest
Game of Thrones
novel while Heath banged about the condo. He appeared to be organizing—moving things around. After he removed his fourth box of crap to take out to the garage, I looked up. “Hey, what’s going on?”

He shrugged and didn’t look at me. “Just making some room in here. It’s getting pretty cluttered up and my storage unit is almost full.”

I raised my eyebrows. Heath was not the tidiest of people and he usually spent his free time playing games instead of cleaning. He paid someone to come in and clean his place every week.

I cleared my throat. “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t
I
be asking
you
that?”

“Just wondering. I haven’t seen Connor in the last few days. Everything okay?”

He sighed and sat down. “Connor was getting a little…needy.”

I leaned forward, alarmed. “What do you mean ‘was’? You didn’t break up with him, did you?”

Heath looked at me and then away. “No…I’m not
you
, after all.”

I sat back, deflated. That had stung. “I guess I deserved that.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t say anything. Instead, I fiddled with the edges of the pages of my book and swallowed a sudden lump that had formed in my throat. Heath’s words smarted, but it was true—I’d deserved the comment. I’d broken up with Adam after one fight—albeit a huge fight. He’d done something to utterly betray my trust, but instead of giving him the opportunity to explain, or even a second chance, I’d shoved him away. I’d thought it would be easier. It was almost as if that fight had given me the excuse to spare him this whole cancer thing. I’d been like a one-woman crusade, vowing I was strong enough to overcome all by myself. But I’d leaned on Heath…far more than I should have.

I looked up at him. Was he finally feeling bitter because of it? My throat tightened. He got up and sat next to me on the couch. We stared at each other and then he stretched out an arm. “I’m sorry. Come here, dollface.”

I leaned forward and his arms came around me. “I hope things are okay with you and Connor,” I said, looking over his huge shoulder at nothing while he hugged me.

He let me go and I sat back. “They’ll be okay. He’s wanting to spend more time with me and there aren’t enough hours in the day.”

I pressed my lips together, watching him. What he wasn’t saying was that he felt obligated to be around the house to look after me and drive me to my appointments. Even though I’d told him repeatedly that he didn’t need to.

I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Thank you for putting up with my idiocy.”

“Hmm. Yeah, I wasn’t doing you any favors.”

I blinked, my eyes stinging. “Thanks for being there for me even though I’m not perfect.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Heath?”

He glanced up at me. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I never told you that before, during all of this. I’m so sorry. I put you in a crappy position.”

“You were afraid. I get it.”

“I still am.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at me. “Yeah…we all are. But…the difference is that most of the time we don’t let fear lead us to do stupid things. Who was it that said…something about courage not being the absence of fear but the triumph over it?”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “That was Nelson Mandela or Eleanor Roosevelt or someone like that.”

“Hard to get those two mixed up.” He laughed. “I’m trying to say that you can’t let fear rule you all the time. You’ve got to stand up to it and overcome it. Let it help you grow as a person.”

I smiled, throwing a playful pretend-punch at him. “When did you get all wise and stuff?”

“Wise and wiseass…there ain’t a big difference.”

“Good point.” I smiled. “Why don’t you ask Connor to come live here?”

He threw me a glance out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve been…thinking about it.”

I laughed. “Is that what this unprecedented cleanup job is all about? Decluttering to make room for the boyfriend’s stuff?”

“So you wouldn’t mind?”

“Why would I mind? This is
your
place. You have the right to ask your boyfriend to live with you.”

“You and I were roommates before Brian and I got together. Then I moved out, forced you to move to that dive studio.”

“It wasn’t a dive!”

“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to think that if Connor comes here that you have to leave.”

I leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. Now ask him.”

When he pulled me into a hug, thanking me, I couldn’t stop thinking about his words—about fear. That it was exactly what kept me from accepting Adam’s offer to move in with him again. Would fear of all that lay ahead lead me to make more poor choices?

Chapter Eight
Adam

Emilia had her minor surgical procedures done and then a few days later we showed up at the hospital for her first round of chemotherapy. She would endure a total of twelve treatments, one every week for the next three months.

And this morning, at the bright and early hour of eight a.m., we sat in a private room in the UCI Medical Center while a nurse went down a checklist and pricked Emilia’s finger to get some quick blood work done. Emilia didn’t say much. She sat in a comfortable recliner with a big IV stand next to it and she had that same dead stare she’d had for days. Her golden eyes hadn’t glowed for—what was it, weeks? Months? She hardly seemed like the same Mia I’d fallen in love with. It was like she was becoming a shadow of herself.

She reached down and gripped my hand. “You didn’t have to come, you know…but thanks.”

I didn’t have to come?
What the fuck was that? I frowned. “So you wanted to do this alone, too?”

She gave a light shrug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“But you did specifically ask me and your mom not to tell any of your friends that you were coming in today. Was there a reason for that?”

She took a deep breath and let it go. “This isn’t easy…”

“Asking for help? Yeah…I’m noticing that it’s damn near impossible.”

She grimaced, avoiding my eyes.

“Have you considered that it’s more than just wanting to help you—it’s
needing
to help you? To feel that in some way we are doing something and not standing by feeling utterly helpless and shut out?”

Emilia blinked and frowned, as if the idea hadn’t even crossed her mind. “I don’t want to shut you out…not anymore.”

I sighed. “This is one of those things that can’t continue on between us like it has in the past. Like when I made the appointment for you without asking you. I can misinterpret your intentions just as easily as you did mine. You don’t want to show weakness by asking for help—so you’re saying that you don’t need me. Or you don’t
want
to need me—and your other friends.”

She looked up and met my gaze, her brows pinched together, that tiny valley appearing in her forehead between them. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” She let out a long sigh as if it hurt her to admit it.

Putting my hand behind my ear, I said, “What was that?”

I smiled and she made a face and stuck her tongue out at me. “I’m only going to say it once.”

“Seriously, though, Mia…let us be here for you? Please?”

We stared at each other for a long, silent moment and then she let go of the breath she was holding. “I will. I’ll try my hardest.”

“Do, or do not. There is no try.” I broke into a cheesy grin.

Finally a wide smile from her. “Whatever you say, Master Yoda.”

I checked my watch.

“Your mom will be here any minute.”

She suddenly looked very afraid, shifting in her seat in the huge recliner. I reached up and smoothed her cheek. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m going to be Pukey McBarferini.”

I grimaced. “That’s a lovely image.”

“So is the one with me bent over a toilet for the next twenty-four hours. You don’t need to be around for that.”

I raised my eyebrows and cleared my throat.

Her lips formed an o-shape when she realized why I was correcting her. Then she shook her head. “Wow, it comes so automatically…”

At that moment, Emilia’s mom walked into the room with a brave smile already fixed on her face. “Hey, you!” she said in a cheerful voice. She bent down and kissed her daughter on the cheek. “I brought you some stuff from home.” Kim pulled out a bag with a battered stuffed animal, some fuzzy socks and an empty insulated plastic cup and straw to fill with ice water, presumably so Emilia could keep hydrated during treatment.

Emilia’s face flushed deep red. “Mom!” she groaned, grabbing the stuffed dog and tucking it quickly behind her in the recliner. She threw me a look and I fought a smile.

“Is that your stuffed dog?” I asked. “How cute.”

Her eyes narrowed and she held up a closed fist. “Don’t say nothing to me, mister, or you’ll regret it!”

“Mia!” Kim chided.

Emilia stuck her tongue out at her mother. “No interruptions from the humiliation committee, please.”

I grinned. “I might be afraid of the violent threats if they put something like super soldier serum in that IV.”

She looked over at the bag of glowing orange medication sitting on a tray, ready to be injected into her body in short order. With a grimace she said, “It looks radioactive. Maybe it will turn me into Spider-woman.”

I grinned. “A helluva lot more sexy than Pukey McBarferini.”

“No doubt.”

After a few more jokes, she seemed at ease…but my heart twisted in my chest when, after the nurse re-entered and explained the process, she inserted the IV into the port in Emilia’s chest. I pretended not to notice when Emilia quietly pulled the stuffed dog from behind her back and cuddled it next to her.

Instead I got up and went to the window, stuffed my hands in my pockets and tried to disguise the worry, fear and heartbreak in my own features before I turned back to her again.

Chapter Nine
Mia

“Not All Secrets Stay That Way Forever”— Posted on the blog of
Girl Geek
on January 19, 2014

Ever have a secret you were dying to tell but knew you’d be in big, big trouble if you did? What is it about the weight of a secret that makes unburdening oneself of it so satisfying?

Well…I’ve got a secret. It may just have something to do with
that
secret. You know the one.

And it’s not Victoria’s Secret, although the chainmail bikini armor sure looks like she could have designed it. Sometimes I expect my character to come strutting down a catwalk with angel wings pasted to her back, all covered in mandrool.

It’s not the Secret to Everybody from the Legend of Zelda.

And it’s not the secret cow level in Diablo.

And no, I wasn’t teasing you. I’ve got a secret. A secret from Dragon Epoch.
That
secret.

But unlike the hack sites who prefer to use crowdsourcing to solve an intricate and long-hidden quest in hours, I will act as your guide instead of your guru.

Have you scoured every inch of the Golden Mountains, killed every computer-generated monster a zillion times, examined every single last bit of loot, questioned every non-player character that lives in that zone and every zone adjacent?

Well, no wonder you are frustrated. You are looking in the wrong place.

Girl Geek’s first clue is to begin at the beginning.

Lest you don’t believe me, I’ll be posting a screenshot (with telling details blurred, of course) that proves that I have unlocked the secret quest.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I have a princess to save.

***

I think it was day two AC (after chemo) that I finally came to in the dark of my bedroom at Heath’s condo. I had no real way of ascertaining the date. It might have been day three or five or ten, for all I knew. But I did know that I was dog thirsty. I could have lapped up a lake, but the water bottle by my bedside was empty.

So I ventured outside of my tiny shelter of a room. My joints ached and the skin on my hands and feet felt like it was too tight. Classic signs of water retention. I was likely about to start sloshing around like a whale before I peed it all out.

And that didn’t even touch on the blazing heat in my chest or the pounding headache. At this moment I didn’t know which was worse, the cancer or the medication to fight it. Chemo was making me wish for quick death. And I almost wanted to sob at the thought of eleven more rounds.

I fumbled toward the kitchen, my water bottle in hand. I was halfway there before I had to pause from exhaustion. The apartment was dead quiet and dim but for the light coming from the living room. Heath must have gone out. Good for him…and here was my chance to prove that I didn’t need to be babysat like a toddler.

I straightened after a few minutes, took a few more steps before I bumped up against the cabinet door in the hallway. Suddenly someone was standing beside me.

I opened my mouth to begin a rant about how I hated life, this world and everything in it, including the air I was currently breathing. “Heath—”