Page 17 of Catch You

“I could do with a few groceries, but I’m not sure I’m going to make it,” she admits, resting her head back the second she’s in the seat, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Tell me what you need, and I’ll run in. Unless you’d rather go straight home.”

“I can wait in the car. I don’t want you doing more than necessary.”

I want to tell her that it’s the least I can do, but she looks too tired for the inevitable argument that would follow.

“As long as you’re sure. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” she argues, but I can see in her eyes that it’s all lies. She quickly lists off a few things she needs before resting back once again and closing her eyes.

I look over once we’re out on the freeway, and she’s already asleep.

My chest aches with the knowledge that she’s in constant discomfort, yet to an outsider they’d never know. She appears so strong, so healthy, especially with her perfectly applied make-up and styled hair. Underneath all of that is just a shell of a woman. Every time I see her, a little more of her spark has gone, and it kills me. I hate to imagine what the next few weeks—couple of months, if we’re lucky—might be like as I watch her lose her fight against this disease.

I grab all the items my aunt asked for before adding a new bottle of rum, some cola, and a bar of chocolate to the cart and heading to the register. That’s my night sorted.

“You should call him.”My aunt’s words ring out in my mind as I join the line, and my stomach twists uncomfortably. He’s probably forgotten all about me by now. For all I know, he found a replacement the moment I left and spent the night with her instead.

Pushing aside the thought, I pay for our groceries and head back to the car.

The rest of the ride is in silence, and I’m glad. My head is spinning with everything the doctors said alongside my aunt’s advice. I know she’s right. I need to stop worrying about everyone else, but that’s easier said than done. For as long as I can remember, I’ve put myself last. For a long time, it was easier to focus on others and their issues than it was to think about my own disaster of a life.

After helping her in, I put the few groceries away while my aunt changes and settles herself on the couch.

“Would you like me to stay?” I ask from the doorway.

“No, no. You get off and enjoy yourself.”

“I’m not sure I’m really up for it.”

“Harlow,” she says on a sigh. “Take it from someone older and possibly a little bit wiser. Life goes by in the blink of an eye. It’s too short not to enjoy yourself. So put on your dancing shoes and drag Brooke out for a night of fun, if you’re still insistent that you’re not going to call your mystery man.”

I nod, her hopeful expression too much to deny. “I’ll see what I can do.”

My aunt smiles, but I’m not sure if she believes me or not. Honestly, I don’t believe myself either.

“Just don’t waste time, Lo.” I drop a kiss to her cheek and promise to call her in the morning, leaving her house with a heavy heart, wondering how many more times I’m going to get to do so.

Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to give in to them until I’m in the safety of my car.

The second I close the door behind me, everything I’ve kept bottled inside since walking out of the doctor’s office explodes.

I cry, sob, and wail for everything I’m about to lose. My aunt is all I have now. She’s picked me up time and time again, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.

I sit there for the longest time, trying to imagine what’s in the future for us and how my life is going to change once again when the time comes to say goodbye to her.

Movement in her living room window catches my eye and forces me to turn the engine on and pull away from my parking spot. The last thing I need is her knowing how much this is ripping me apart. I can’t imagine how she’s coping; she doesn’t need to be worrying about me as well.

I slam my foot down on the accelerator and speed off down the street. The bottle of rum and the chocolate call to me from the trunk, and I fully intend on pulling on some yoga pants and sitting my ass down on the couch with both at the first possible opportunity.

I pull up on the driveway to the house Brooke and I share and let out a large sigh. I wipe any remaining tears from my eyes, although I know it’s pointless. The second she sees the redness surrounding them, she’ll know. She always does. That’s the thing with us; we might be polar opposites with everything, but our connection runs deeper, stronger than any differences in opinion or taste.

With my grocery bag of goodies in hand, I push through the front door. She’s there immediately.

A sob erupts from my throat, and she rushes for me. Somehow, she takes the bag from my hands before it crashes to the floor and pulls me into her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers in my ear as she holds me.

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