Page 245 of Filthy Elites

After what feels like a long time, Dare’s car finally pulls up in front of my house.

My heart jumps. I offer a little smile and pull my backpack strap tighter over my shoulder as I walk around to the other side. I check to make sure no cars are coming, then I open the door and quickly slide in.

“Hey,” I say in greeting, moving my heavy backpack to my lap.

Dare looks pleasantly surprised as his gaze rakes over what I’m wearing. My face heats. I’ve felt so stupid since the moment I put it on—the white skirt, the butter yellow cami top underneath, and then a white cardigan over it. I feel like a daisy, but he really seems to like it.

“You should wear more skirts,” he states.

My skin heats even more. “Oh. Thank you. I mean, that wasn’t a compliment, it was a…” I stop talking, mortified, and clear my throat. “I don’t have many skirts.”

Dare smirks, shifting out of park. “I’ll buy you some.”

I don’t take it as a real offer so I don’t bother telling him no thanks.

I didn’t think through the skirt. My backpack is heavy so I have to spread my legs like I did yesterday to get it on the floor, but when I do, Dare’s gaze gets caught on my bare legs.

I flush but pretend not to notice as I shove my bag to the floor and pull my seatbelt across my lap to secure it. “Thanks for the ride.”

His gaze still lingers on my legs. I fight the urge to tug at the material and pull it lower. That’ll just make it obvious I’m noticing.

Finally, his gaze lifts to meet mine. “No problem. Thanks for dolling up for me.”

My blood freezes in my veins. So does my face. I can’t believe he said that. “I… I didn’t.”

He smirks, shifting his attention back to the road. “Sure you didn’t.” He doesn’t give me long enough to muster a response before he goes on. “How’s your mom feeling today?”

I’m even more stunned he’s asking after my mom’s wellbeing than I am that he called me out on wearing a skirt for him. “She’s… tired.”

He nods like that’s understandable. “I meant to ask, but what stage is her cancer? Is she undergoing any current treatment?”

I stare at him.

Since I don’t answer, he glances over at me. “I’m only asking because my family knows a specialist. I know you said you’ve tried everything, and I believe you, but this guy’s been called a miracle worker. He’s always up on cutting edge research and trials. A friend of my mom’s went to him a few years ago when she was almost to stage four and about out of hope. Whatever experimental treatment he got her into, it worked. She made a full recovery and has been cancer-free since. I don’t want to get your hopes up or anything, but if you wanted me to give him a call, maybe he could meet with your mom and see if there’s anything he can do for her.”

My chest feels tight. The number of times I’ve found hope only to have it snatched away after a long, soul-deadening fight that ended in defeat…

I’m afraid to hope again, but it’s impossible not to. It’s a cruel game, but when you want something so badly, you have to grab at it every time it’s dangled.

“Are you serious? She isn’t doing treatments anymore, we’ve pretty much exhausted all our resources and nothing has worked, so she decided to stop putting her body through all of it and just enjoy the time she has left. We still do what we can, of course. The stuff the nutritionist told us to do, like I still make her a cup of matcha tea every morning and stuff like that, but as far as chemo and other treatments… She has pretty much done everything. None of it worked.”

“Well, it’s your call, of course, but if you want me to reach out, I can.”

“She’s immunocompromised at this point, so we try not to go out in public when we don’t have to. Is there any way you could set up a phone or video call first, just to make sure going there wouldn’t be a total waste?”

“Sure, I can ask him.”

Hope wraps around my heart. “That would be amazing, Dare. Thank you so much.”

He looks over at me and smiles faintly. “No problem.”

My heart hammers in my chest as I consider opening all this up again, talking to my mom about it. I know she’s exhausted, but if there’s a chance I could keep her, I have to try. It’s all I want in the world.

I look over at him. “Um… can you also find out how much the treatment would cost? Since the divorce, Mom doesn’t have insurance anymore, and mine is the only income. I’m guessing your family friend probably wasn’t as worried about money. If he thinks there’s a chance it might work, I’ll pay whatever, I just have to figure out how. Maybe I can get another credit card. Most of ours are nearly maxed out. I have a few months left if I’m extremely careful, but… our financial situation isn’t great.”

“You only work part-time, right?”

I nod. “It’s all I can swing while I’m in school and taking care of Mom. I talked to her about dropping out so I can get a second job or go full-time, but she won’t hear it, and honestly… I’d rather spend the time with her now and work after she’s—” My throat closes, not wanting to let the awful words out. “After she’s gone. I already know I’ll have to spend next year working non-stop to put even a small dent in my debt instead of going to college, but that’s fine. I can make more money, but I can’t get more time with Mom.”

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