Page 31 of Things I Wish I Said
I roll my eyes at the dumb question, but she seemed fine yesterday.
“Nope,” she says, popping thepagain. “Just the perks of chemo. I’ll be here at St. Francis for about twenty-four hours for inpatient, which means I get released tomorrow afternoon. Then the real fun begins, and I’ll be hugging my toilet bowl the rest of the day.”
“Shit. You’re in the fucking hospital? Earlier, I thought you were speaking hypothetically. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Relax, Slugger. Don’t get all worked up over it. Besides, it’s not my first rodeo. In fact, this is my last treatment,” she says, but her words lack conviction, like she doesn’t really believe it.
I swallow. I have no idea what to fucking say.
Here I am worried about whether it’s cool to get my dick wet while she’s lying in a fucking hospital bed. If I didn’t feel like shit before, I do now.
Suddenly, I’m entirely too sober.
“Your last treatment, huh?” I run a hand through my hair, hating myself a little more with each passing second. “Then what?”
“Then I’ll have scans in a couple of weeks and ride off into the sunset,” she says dryly. “Hell if I know. No one around here ever wants to talk about what happens next until it’s next.”
I nod, having no real idea of what she means because, for my father, there was never the possibility of “next.” It was only palliative care and making him comfortable.
In the background, I hear a door closing, followed by the sound of another voice. “Um, I better go. Talk to you later?”
“Yeah, of course. Night, Sinclair.”
The line goes dead, and I stare down at the phone in my hands as a text comes through.
RYLEIGH:
Sorry. My mom came in, so I had to bail, but have fun tonight. At least one of us should. I’ll text you to confirm Thursday. You better not suck or I’m giving you so much shit. I have high expectations.
The knot in my chest tightens.
Ry having high expectations is exactly what I’m afraid of. No one should hang their hopes on me. It’ll only end in disappointment.
But I can’t say that to her, not when she’s sick and relying on me.
So instead, I type back “See you Thursday,” while my stomach turns in on itself, dread settling inside me like a rock.
It’s been a long time since anyone has depended on me; it’s not a feeling I’m accustomed to, and one I don’t want.
A throat clears behind me, bringing me back into the present.
I turn to find Hannah waiting. “You ready to get out of here?”
Stepping forward, she slides a hand up my chest, her mouth falling to my neck, and all I can think about is Ryleigh in a hospital bed, lying there with those brilliant hazel eyes, and an IV in her arm.
I recoil from Hannah’s touch, disgusted.
If I leave here with Hannah and fuck her while Ryleigh’s in the hospital getting chemo treatment, I’ll never live with myself.
It doesn’t matter that it isn’t real.
It doesn’t matter that it’s fake and she gave me her blessing.
I’m an ass, but I’m not that big of an ass.
Hannah blinks up at me, her bright eyes clouding in confusion, but I just shake my head and take a step back. “Sorry. I can’t do this.”
Chapter eight
