Page 104 of Things I Wish I Said
She falls silent, staring down at her hands.
“Did you tell her you were giving up?” I ask, and I see the answer on her face before she gives it.
“I told her I’d consider it.”
“But you’re not, are you?”
She hesitates. “Right now, I’m going to take it one day at a time. My focus is the wish. It’s more important now than ever. Mom will double down on how unsafe it is for me to go. She won’t want to risk me getting sick.”
I want to shake some sense into her, make her see that her life is a whole hell of a lot more important than any award. I wantto yell and scream, tell her to forget about soccer and focus on the fight, but I can’t because doing so means admitting I care. It means admitting that I might feel something, and I can’t. I can’t feel anything.
My heart is numb. Frozen. A deserted island. A barren desert. Or at least, it needs to be. Eventually, whether in life or death, everyone you love leaves.
And now Ry is telling me she’s planning an early departure.
She glances up at me, her mouth a grim line, her eyes bright with determination. It’s the same girl I watched on the screen just moments ago crush a soccer ball like it was nothing, and I realize I’d do nearly anything for this girl. I might not be able to give Ryleigh my heart—not that she wants it—but I can give her this. The wish.
I reach out, giving her hand a little squeeze, even while my stomach riots. “Okay, Sinclair. We’ll make sure you get your wish.”
The farther I get from Ryleigh’s house, the deeper the boulder sinks in the pit of my stomach. She didn’t say she was refusing further treatment in words, but she didn’t need to. I could read between the lines quite clearly, and it’s clear to me she’s done. Finished.
I grind my teeth so hard I think they might crack as I come to a redlight.
I didn’t want to take this fucking wish. Didn’t want to catch feelings or get invested. Everything inside of me told me to cut and run in the other direction when my mother suggested it.
I still could. It’s not too late.
But here I am, determined to still help despite how much it might hurt, all while I tell myself I don’t care, even though it’s the furthest thing from the truth.
Because Ryleigh’s dying.
Dying.
Just like my father.
I turn into my driveway, stopping shy of the garage, and stare ahead at nothing, unraveling.
I picked up the pieces, sewed myself back together again after the unexpected loss of my father, but now it feels like all the stitches are falling out. The thread holding me together is disintegrating.
Without thinking, I grab my phone and hover over my contacts, debating on my next move. Texting Dustin after Kip’s party is a death wish. I haven’t heard from him since the party, but I’m out of weed, and booze won’t be enough to wipe the conversation with Ryleigh from my mind. Nor will it mitigate the news that her cancer has spread.
Hell, even pot isn’t enough.
I need something better.
Stronger.
Don’t do it, De Leon.
I groan and drag a hand down my face.
Even on my worst of days, I won’t go there. It’s how I know I’m not entirely lost.
Still, smoking will at least provide a momentary reprieve from my thoughts, a much-needed vacation. But the only one who can deliver is Dustin.
My fingers hover over his name on the screen.
I click once and open a new text, debating. I have two choices. Pretend like nothing happened and hope he’d rather keep a client than get revenge, or admit to fucking up and eat crow.
