Page 63 of Write Me For You
“It’s stupid. I shouldn’t care what people like that think, especially cruel people who want nothing more than to rip others down. But it just made me feel so damn inferior, Jesse.”
“You’re not,” I said through clenched teeth. “Never think that, Junebug. You’re beautiful, amazing. God, June, you’re the reason I’m alive right now, the reason I have this. Without you by my side, I don’t care about football.”
June stared at the ground. My heart joined that stare. She was done—I could see it in her defeated stance. “I don’t have a thick skin, Jesse. And maybe they’re right, maybe we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the ranch. Maybe we held on to each other through the cancer and just didn’t know when to walk away.”
She could have shot me, and it would have hurt less. “You don’t mean that,” I said, voice shaking with fear. She had me terrified right now. June didn’t say anything in response. I stepped back. “So, what? You’re walking away from this, from us? After everything?”
June’s shoulders sagged. “I think we should spend some time apart. Just take a breather, focus on ourselves for a while. Just…breathe.”
“You’re breaking up with me?” I whispered, feeling like the earth had given out beneath me.
June’s eyes snapped up to meet mine. “Never,” she said vehemently, and it was the only comfort I’d gotten from her in this entire messed-up conversation. “But I just…I need to not be so in the spotlight for a while, need some boring in my life.” She shook her head but kept my gaze. “The past few years have been a roller coaster. For us both. I just need calm for a while, to find my feet here at college without the fanfare and judgment.”
“And I’m not calming for you?” I asked. I was beginning to feel numb. Torn.
June stepped forward and put her hand on my cheek. I leaned into her soft, warm palm. “Please…just a small amount of time,” she said. “I promise. I…” Her breathing hitched. “I feel overwhelmed, and honestly, what those girls said…I don’t feel like I’m strong enough to deal with that kind of scrutiny just yet. I’m still recovering emotionally, and I know you are too. I just…”
“I understand,” I said, and I did. June was more introverted than extroverted. She liked the comfort of her small group of friends, her passion that was the personal connection between her soul and the page. I was loud and loved being in the center of the stadium. I loved the thrill of football, of laying everything on the line.
What those girls said had clearly shredded her. I knew she was self-conscious about her hair, about her limp. She had struggled when we first got together. But I’d never seen her as anything less than perfection. The fact that they had caused her this much pain made me want to scream.
“I understand,” I repeated and kissed her palm. Then I leaned in and kissed her lips. They were soft and still had the taste of cinnamon that she sprinkled on her coffee. “Just don’t be gone too long, okay?” I said, voice hoarse, and kissed her again. “You’re still my girl, my soulmate…my Junebug.”
“Thank you,” she said, clearly relieved that I wasn’t fighting back.
With tears in my eyes, I raised my fist. “Group two for the win.”
June raised her fist and bumped it against mine, bottom lip trembling. “Group two for the win.”
I gave her a sad smile. “Good night, Junebug,” I said and walked back in the direction of my dorm. I had to leave now, or I’d drop to my knees and beg her to stay. But I couldn’t be selfish. I had to give her this time alone, even if it broke my soul to do so.
“Sleep tight,” she whispered, but I didn’t turn back around.
I was pretty sure I left both my heart and soul in her hands. She would come back to me soon. And I’d wait for that day to arrive.
I’d wait forever if I had to.
CHAPTER 20
June
Icoughed and coughed until nothing else came up, andJesse rubbed my back. Immunotherapy, phase two was well underway, and the effects this time were far worse. We were on higher doses, and we could tell.
As if on cue, Jesse began to vomit into his bucket.
“You’re doing good, guys,” Chris said, from his recliner, like our very own cheerleader.
Jesse threw him a thumbs-up in response—that even sweating and uncomfortable, he found time for humor, made me smile.
I looked at Emma, who had grown quiet over the past hour. “Are you okay, Em?”
“I’m justaching everywhere,” she said, but her cheeks were bright red, and she didn’t look well. “I hate this.” She breathed out a sigh, and we were all quiet as Bailey came for our sick buckets and made sure we were okay.
He felt Emma’s forehead and frowned. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, and Jesse and I shared a look of concern.
The other group had stayed in their bedrooms for this cycle so far, but Chemo Club was determined to remain strong in our movie room.Lord of the Ringsplayed in the background, and Idid my best to focus on one of my favorite film franchises. But then Bailey came back with a thermometer.
When it beeped loudly, he crouched and said, “Time to get you to your room so Dr. Duncan can check you over, Emma. You’re running a fever and we need to monitor you closely.”
