Page 54 of If Tomorrow Never Comes

“I’m lucky to have him.”

Their eyes met and held, and Elliott realized just how close they stood. If she took one step forward, her chest would brush his. Something flickered in his gaze, thick and warm, and the air surrounding them turned still and expectant, as if the very universe was poised for their next move.

“Want some water before you go?” he asked.

Despite only running half her planned route, shewasthirsty. It would only take her a few minutes to get to her place for literally the exact same thing, but ... “Sure.”

He held the door open wider, and she stepped inside, resisting the impulse to smell him as she passed. She perched on the edge of the couch near the door. She wouldn’t stay long.

Jamie filled a glass with ice water and brought it to her, lowering himself to the armchair furthest from her. His legs extended so far one knee brushed the coffee table.

It was then she noticed the flowers.

“Are those peonies?”

He smiled. “Yeah, they’re my favorite. My mom had so many she didn’t know what to do with them, so she gave some to me.” An adorable flush crept up his neck. “I, uh ... Having plants around makes me happy.”

She remembered.

His apartment was full of life, with several other potted plants dispersed around the living room and kitchen. She didn’t have a single thing at her place. “Peonies are my favorite, too.”

His gaze locked on hers, another tangible connection arcing between them. It was really inconvenient, how perfect they seemed to be for each other.

He swallowed and adjusted his glasses. “So how far’d you end up going?”

“Not as far as I wanted,” she admitted.

His brows came together. “Was it Hank?”

“No,” she said quickly. “He was great.” She scrambled to find a reason to give him other than his too-handsome face and took a drink to buy some time. Finally, she offered a different truth. “I think I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

Concern etched heavier on his face. He leaned forward a little, bracing his forearms across his knees. “Why not?”

She rotated the cold glass between her fingers. “I’ve, um, had some trouble with anxiety since the transplant. Actually,” she clarified with a humorless laugh, “that’s a lie. It started after my first diagnosis when I was seventeen. Even when I’m considered cancer-free like I am now, I’m constantly terrified the leukemia will come back. I went into remission once, but it came back. The transplant is supposed to work better, but it’s not a guarantee.”

Something in his eyes when she said that last part flickered in ... distress? It was hard to tell, and he quickly dropped his gaze. “Would you know if it was back? Based on how you feel?”

She shrugged. “My first symptoms were vague. Like fatigue and headaches. Lots of other things can cause that stuff, too. I had some bruising, which I now know was because my platelets were low. Every time I see something on my skin, I desperately try to remember if I bumped into something recently, just so I have an explanation.”

Jamie’s head slowly moved back and forth as he processed. “That’s ... rough. I’m really sorry you have to deal with that. I can’t imagine having that kind of thing weighing on me.”

Hank rose from where he’d landed on the floor and approached her, shouldering his way to sit on the floor between her legs. She couldn’t help but grin at him, the goofy dog. Something about his presence—and Jamie’s—made the words spill out. “It wasn’t so bad when I was in the hospital or living at home. At least there, I had people around me. In the hospital I was attached to so many machines, if anything went wrong the nurses knew it before I did. It was annoying as hell but comforting at the same time, to know someone else was keeping an eye on me. And even though it wasn’t that intense at my parents’ house, at least I knew someone else was there. If I thought something was wrong, I could just call out and someone could help me.”

She should have stopped there, but she kept going, her voice nearly a whisper. She hadn’t realized just how badly she’d wanted to talk about this with someone. “I wanted to live alone because I feel like I should. And Iwantto, I really do. I’m twenty-eight and have never done it. I’m an adult, for crying out loud. But when I’m in that apartment, alone, all I can think about is the fact that if something happened to me while I was in there, no one would know. I have no one to call out to. No one to help me.” Those fears had led to her short-term lease agreement in the first place, and she’d almost cancelled twice since arriving to Omaha, ready to throw in the towel and head back home. Hank laid his head on her knee, and she found comfort in the weight of it. “It just gets to me sometimes. At night, mostly.”

Elliott closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d never admitted any of that out loud before.

When she opened them again, she found Jamie sitting very still, just watching her, his expression somehow compassionate and troubled at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” Elliott said, embarrassment creeping in. Why had she said all that? “I didn’t mean to unload that on you. I just ... That’s why I can’t sleep.”

Jamie said nothing. He gripped the back of his neck, his gaze dropping beside her to the floor. With this profile view, a muscle flexing in his cheek became visible, as if he were clenching his jaw.

Well. She’d freaked him out. She took a huge gulp of water, forcing the ice-cold liquid down. She’d finish it and get the hell out of here.

“I wish ...,” he started, his voice so low and throaty something warm slid across her skin. He pressed his lips closed for a second, met her eyes, and tried again. “I wish there was something I could do. To help.”

That was the thing, though. No one could. “Thank you,” she said anyway, because she appreciated people’s concern for her. Pity, she didn’t care for, but genuine hope for her well-being was always welcome.

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