Page 97 of Remember Us This Way

“I leave you alone for two fucking seconds,” he mutters under his breath, letting the rest of the sentence trail off. With that, his arm curls around my back, and just when I think he’s about to help me hobble all the way to the bottom, he scoops me up against his wide chest, lifting me off the ground.

I loop my arms around his neck, and he walks me right to the bottom, not stopping until he’s lowering me on the couch. Then before I can even say thank you, he’s in the kitchen, rifling through the freezer for ice.

He gets me sorted out, and it’s not long before Mom calls Aunt Maya, deciding that tonight we’ll have our own kind of party. Dinner is served, and as Mom and Aunt Maya lose themselves to three bottles of wine, Noah sits with me on the couch, holding me against his chest as Hazel finally explodes and tells us all about this boy at school who is absolutely not worth her time.

The hours pass far too quickly, and when I’m falling asleep on the couch, Noah lets out a sigh and scoops me up. “Mmmmm,” I groan. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed,” he tells me as I snuggle in, more than content with staying right here. “I don’t need to go back until Sunday afternoon, so I’ll be sneaking back through your window first thing in the morning.”

“Okay, but just so you know, Hope and I are sneaking out tomorrow night to smoke a joint in the park.”

Noah sputters and gapes at me as he makes his way up the stairs, and all I can do is grin. “Tell me you’re lying.”

“Like you’ve never done it,” I scoff.

“That’s beside the point,” he says, but as I snuggle back in and close my eyes, he just shakes his head. “Guess it’s time that Hope and I have a little chat.”

And with that, he lowers me into my bed and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “Love you, Zo,” he murmurs. “Sleep tight.”

39

Zoey

Storm clouds roll in early on Monday morning as I sit up in my bed, staring out the window with my hands shaking. Noah didn’t end up leaving until after dinner last night, and I’m so grateful that he stayed, but I also hope he doesn’t get in trouble for being tired at training today.

As for me, I’ve never been so tired.

I didn’t sleep. Last night wasn’t great. I was lethargic again, barely able to keep myself up to really be here in the moment with Noah, but my body just didn’t feel right. I needed to lay down, needed to pass out, and when the dizziness returned, I forced myself to yawn and watched with a broken heart as he put me to bed and demanded I get some sleep.

But the problem with lying in bed too early to sleep, your mind starts wandering, and despite knowing the signs and symptoms of leukemia like the back of my hand, I found myself researching it and looking up everything there was to know about the disease I’ve already beaten.

Maybe I’m just a hypochondriac, convincing myself of something that isn’t really there, but what if I’m right? What if the battles I’ve already won were nothing but a practice run for something bigger?

I’ve already cheated death once; I’m living on borrowed time. Maybe death is finally knocking on my door, demanding it’s time to come home.

Fuck.

My gaze sweeps to the clock. 6:30 a.m.

Mom and Dad will still be sleeping, but if I’m right, they would want me to wake them. Hell, they would be wishing I had mentioned something when I first started feeling off. I just didn’t want to believe it, and I didn’t want to repeat the most terrifying time of my life.

Figuring that Mom and Dad need to be up soon anyway, I get out of bed and pad toward my desk, scooping up the picture of me as a little girl fighting for her life. I hold it to my chest like a security blanket, and with shaky hands, I walk out of my room and down the hall.

I creep past Hazel’s room, not wanting to wake her or have to worry her, especially if this is something else. Perhaps I was right all along, and this is nothing but emotional exhaustion from being apart from the other half of my soul, but I know in my gut that it’s not.

It’s barely ten steps to my parents’ room, but by the time my hand curls into a small fist and gently knocks on their door, the tears are welling in my eyes.

I don’t bother waiting for them to tell me to come in, I just push the door open and slip straight in. Hazel and I aren’t the type to bother them often when they’re in bed, especially so early in the morning, so the second I walk in, Mom pushes up on her elbow, looking at me with furrowed brows.

She watches me for a second, her eyes adjusting to the fresh morning, and as she sees the tears staining my cheeks, she pulls her blankets back, welcoming me in. “Oh, honey,” she says, pulling me into her arms as I snuggle into her bed, still gripping the photo frame. “Don’t cry. Noah will be back soon.”

I swallow over the lump in my throat, my whole body now violently shaking as the tears turn into sobs. “It’s . . . It’s not that,” I tell her, pulling out of her arms, needing to sit up for this. “I . . . I have to . . . to tell you something.”

Mom looks up at me as Dad rolls over to face me, looking just as concerned, even more so as they both take note of the photo in my hand. I scramble over Mom, putting myself right between them, and they immediately sit up, sensing that whatever this is needs their undivided attention.

“Honey, what’s going on?” Dad murmurs, gently taking the photo out of my hand as though that could be the reason for my tears and wanting to separate me from it.

“I—” I cut myself off, not having the strength to get the words out as my heart shatters into a thousand broken pieces.

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