Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
She turns to me slowly, her eyes glassy with the tears not yet fallen. “I’m scared for you.”
I wrap her in my arms and hold her against me. She shakes as she cries. I hold myself together until my father wraps us both up in a giant hug. Then I fall apart.
I squeeze my mom, and my dad squeezes me. We sit on the bed and hold each other for what feels like an eternity. I want to get up, to move, to tell them it’ll be okay—even if it might be a lie. But I sit and let them hug their child who’s just told them he’s sick. Because they need it. And maybe because I need it too.
It’s something I haven’t had time to really think about or prepare for—telling my parents about my new reality. I haven’t stopped to think how much this would hurt them.
I can’t imagine having an ill child. If something were wrong with Ethan, I’d—
He’s not mine.
Despite sitting with my family and physically being showered with their love and support, I’ve never felt lonelier. My heart and the innermost places in my soul, which I have just begun to feel, are empty. Cold. Desolate.
Mom and Dad release me. Both wipe their eyes as they sit in their seats again.
I want to run, to get away from all this as quickly as possible. I need to for my own sanity.
“What can we do for you, son?” Dad asks. “How can we help?”
“There’s nothing you can do, Pops.”
“Surely we can do something.”
“At least let me make you dinner,” Mom says. “How about a meatloaf?”
I smile at her as I take her hand in mine again. “I love how you think food fixes everything.”
Dad chuckles.
“Well, it doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it easier to think with a full belly,” she says. “And it keeps me busy, and I need to be busy.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m actually going to head back to California.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “When? Tonight?”
“I’m going to go to Fish’s in Cincinnati since he’s back in San Diego. I’ll head out from there. I just . . . I need to be alone for a bit. I hope you understand.”
“We do,” Dad says, giving Mom a look to stay quiet. “You do whatever you need to do.”
“Thanks.”
Mom stands, unable to sit still any longer. “What about Palmer? Did you tell her? Is she handling it okay?”
Palmer.
What’s left of my heart cracks as I imagine her tear-streaked face.
“I ended things with her,” I say quietly.
“You did?” Dad sounds surprised.
I stand up next to Mom. “It was the only reasonable thing to do.”
“How do you figure?” Mom asks. “Did you tell her? Did she not want anything to do with it? Surely she didn’t push you away—”
“No, I didn’t tell her. It would only complicate things between us, and . . .” I close my eyes. “Why do that to her? It’s hard enough telling you guys and dealing with it myself.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom says, her voice breaking.
I know, Mom. I know.
“Cole, this breaks my heart,” she says. “You were so happy. She was . . .”
“Casey,” Dad says, giving her a look before turning to me. “I hate this for you both, son. Is there anything we can do?”
I shrug helplessly.
Mom wipes her eyes. “I think if you’d told her, she would’ve understood. I mean—”
“Mom,” I say, my voice strangled. “I can’t.”
Mom nods. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“When are you leaving?” Dad asks.
“Now?” I say, more like a question than anything.
“Well, let me make you a snack for the road.” She looks at me, then Dad, then scurries to the kitchen.
Dad exhales sharply once we’re alone and paces around the room. Must be where I get the pacing thing from.
“All shit aside, are you okay?” He comes to a stop. “Tell me the truth.”
I look at him. “No. I’m not. Not even a little bit.”
He sighs.
“I don’t know what hurts more—the diagnosis or leaving Palmer,” I admit.
He grips my shoulder. “You’ll get some distance between you and her, and you’ll know what to do.”
“I already know what to do. I did what I have to do.”
“We’ll see. We’ll see how you feel when you get a treatment plan locked down and it’s manageable and the rest of your life isn’t.”
I shrug. “How? It won’t change anything. Whether I can manage it or not doesn’t mean she can.”
“I’ll tell you what, Cole. I couldn’t live without your mother. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she would rather walk through fire beside me than live on a beach without me. That’s love. And if you figure out that you love Palmer Clark, you’ll come home. You won’t have a choice.”
I wish he were right. But, for the first time in his life, Dad is wrong.