Page 71 of Becoming Us
I turned. I didn’t even realize I’d stood, but I was already on my feet, looking down at him. The shadows under his eyes were deeper than I’d ever seen.
Just a little longer. Hold it in.
“I have plans. We’re done, right?” My voice barely held.
Please let me go. Let me leave. Just this once—don’t make me stay here.
He bowed his head.
That second stretched unbearably. For hours. For days.
And then I moved, turned, and walked out.
Maybe someone called after me—Mom, or Matias—but I didn’t hear it. I couldn’t.
The only thing I knew with any clarity was that I had to get out of that room before the full weight of this moment crashed down on me.
I had missed calls and countless messages. I kept ignoring them. For some reason, Holly and Colin wouldn’t stop texting, and it just wasn’t the fucking time for it.
Cancer.
My dad had cancer.
People died of that.
The only experience I’d had with it was this kid—three or four years younger than me—who had gotten sick and hadn’t made it. He was from my school. They held a service. His family was wrecked—a sobbing, distraught mess, begging the world to give their kid back. It didn’t matter that it was pointless. They still begged. Because when someone dies, it’s big. Really fucking big. The biggest thing. Because it’s over.
And that’s what cancer does. It ends things. It kills people.
And my dad had it.
Everything else started to shrink.
My mom yelling at me for hooking up with her instructor, trying to shame me? Small.
Fiona hesitating, figuring out if she even wanted to be with me? Small.
Me zoning out, wondering if life was even worth it? Still small.
The only thing that felt big was that one word. Gigantic. Fucking monumental. Because how could life just keep moving forward after this? This was everything. The stakes had never been higher. If this didn’t work out, it wouldn’t just be a rough night or a few tears.
If this didn’t work out, my dad would be?—
No.
Nope.
Not going there.
I rubbed my hands over my face and forced it down, shoved the thought away like I always did.
“Noah?” Fiona’s voice cut through the static in my head.
“Yeah?”
She tilted her head, and a cascade of curls fell over her shoulder. “Are you listening to me?”
“No. Not really,” I replied without thinking. Sure, I could lie. But what was the fucking point?
