Page 49 of Remember Us This Way

“The third wasn’t quite as bad,” she tells me. “By that stage, the first and second rounds had already killed all the cancerous cells. I was pretty much in the clear, but I still had to complete the full treatment. They call it the maintenance round. It’s like when you kill a bug, and then you step on it again just to make sure it’s really dead. You know, just in case.”

I nod. “Just in case.”

Seeing Erica’s slight movement out of the corner of my eyes, I glance back to watch as she wipes a stray tear from the side of her cheek, and seeing my gaze, she gives me a sad smile before slipping away.

“Exactly,” Zoey says, her gaze dropping as her hand comes up and gently presses against my chest, gripping the soft material of my shirt and rolling it between her fingers. “I hated those long stays in the hospital, but I knew that when I got home, you were going to be there, and it didn’t matter to you how sick I was. You just sat by me the whole time, not caring when I fell asleep in the middle of a game. You just pulled my blanket up and made sure I was comfortable.”

The corner of my lip pulls into a broken smile, and I can’t resist reaching up and gently brushing my fingers down the side of her face, watching as she tilts her head into my touch. “I remember the day my mom told me you weren’t sick anymore,” I tell her, the memory forcing my smile to widen. “She had guests over, but I made her kick them out just so we could race over here.”

Zoey’s eyes sparkle with a fondness that warms my cold, dead heart. “I remember,” she whispers. “You came storming through the door and nearly knocked Hazel on her ass. But then you kissed me right there in the living room, right in front of my parents.”

A cocky smirk stretches wide across my face. “Damn fucking straight, I did.”

Zoey laughs as her hand falls from my chest, dropping between us, and as the silence stretches on, I find myself desperate to fill it. “I’m sorry I’m making you relive it all,” I tell her as my control begins to slip, and my hands gently move to her thighs. “Losing Linc was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. It fucked me up in a way I’m not sure I’ll ever come back from, but if I lost you . . . I’m not sure that I could survive it.”

Her brows furrow, and she watches me for a moment before leaning in and wrapping her arms around me. Her face burrows into the curve of my neck, and I can’t help but reach around her and pull her into my arms, her body pressed right against me. She breathes me in, her chest rising and falling in sync with mine. “Is that why you pushed me away?” she murmurs against my neck.

I close my eyes, not knowing if I have the strength to tell her the depth of the reasons why I needed to force the distance between us. “That and other things,” I tell her, wanting to offer her at least something to help her understand, even if it’s only a little bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for us,” she tells me.

My brows furrow, and I move my hands to her arms, gently pushing her back so that I can see her beautiful face. “What do you mean?”

“After Linc,” she tells me, tears pooling in her eyes. “When you first pushed me away. You needed me more than ever, and I was too blinded by my own hurt to see that. I should have tried harder and refused to let you push me away. You were always right there by my side when I needed you, and when you needed me, I was too broken to see it. I didn’t fight for you.”

“Zoey—”

“No,” she says, cutting me off. “If Hazel had been hit by that drunk driver, and I’d told you to leave me alone, you would have told me to shut up and just held on tighter. That’s what I should have done for you.”

“You’re right. If it had been Hazel and you were the one pushing me away, I would have broken down your fucking door and refused to go, but it wasn’t Hazel. It was Linc. And whether you fought harder or not, whether you physically held on to me and refused to let go, I still would have pushed you away, but it would have only hurt more.”

The tears spill over her eyes, and I reach up to wipe them away. “Don’t cry, Zozo,” I tell her. “You know I never could handle your tears.”

“Can’t help it,” she mutters.

Letting out a breath, my hand curls around her back again, pulling her in, and she falls right back into me. Her arms lock around my shoulders, and her face burrows into the curve of my neck. “I’m sorry I hurt you tonight,” I whisper. “That wasn’t my intention when I came into your room.”

“I know. I shouldn’t have let you get that close,” she says, her fingers roaming up into my hair, just as they had inside that damn closet. “Don’t get me wrong, that kiss was . . . I don’t even have the words for what that was, but the second you followed me into the closet, I knew what you were going to do, and I knew you were still going to pull away, but I didn’t stop you, and that’s on me. You gave me every chance to tell you no.”

“It was selfish. I shouldn’t have walked in there,” I tell her before scoffing. “I should have walked away the second I got my keys, but you know just as well as I do, I’ve never been able to control myself when it comes to you.” I pause, my hand moving up and down her back. “I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea about what’s going on here.”

“What is going on here?” she questions, pulling back to meet my stare. “Because I’ve never been so confused in my life. I’m assuming you’re just going to pretend that you didn’t rock my world in my closet and go straight back to treating me like trash.”

“Fuck, Zoey,” I say, my chest aching as she uses that filthy word. “You know I never meant for that to happen.”

“I can handle Shannan,” she tells me. “What I can’t handle is having to watch as she throws herself all over you, knowing damn well you can’t stand her.”

“I haven’t touched her,” I say, not understanding why I feel it’s important for her to know that.

“I know,” she says. “The whole school would have known if you had.”

I groan, knowing just how right she is before pressing my lips into a hard line and meeting her saddened stare. “And as for you and me?” I ask.

Zoey shrugs her shoulders, and the sadness in her eyes only increases. “You know what I want, Noah. That’s never changed,” she tells me. “I stand by what I said in that closet. When you’re ready to come back to me, I’ll be right here waiting. Just promise that if there ever comes a point where you change your mind or decide that I’m not what you need, let me go because I’ll never be able to pull away on my own.”

My arms tighten back around her, and I clutch her tightly to my chest. “You’ll never not be what I need,” I promise her.

“Then I’ll never stop fighting for you.”

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