Page 76 of Into the Woods

The cancer ate away at my body for months, and I lived in this weird limbo state. My parents started fighting more. My mom cried all the time.

Oddly enough, Court and I got really close. His family still lived next door to mine back then. Our schools were connected under the same prep-academy umbrella, so we even rode to and from school together.

When I passed out on the playground, Court heard and left his history class to come find me just as the ambulance was loading me in. He jumped inside and refused to leave me until we got to the hospital and the doctors told him that he had to stay back so they could run tests on me.

Nights were the hardest, but Court would stay up late texting with me when I couldn’t sleep. When I told him I was having bad dreams—a byproduct of chemo and stress—he began sneaking into my room each night. He started out sleeping on the floor, but then moved into my bed when he realized he could sometimes chase away the nightmares just by being close.

One night, when I couldn’t sleep, we turned on my favorite movie, Little Women. When we got to the scene where Teddy promised to kiss Amy before she died, I sniffled and lamented that I’d probably never get my own first kiss.

That night, I had.

Court’s kiss had been gentle and tentative, full of the awkwardness that came from him being just barely thirteen and me being nine. It was innocent and sweet, and that was the moment I knew I loved Court Woods.

Less than a month later, he’d disappeared from my life and broken my heart.

No, not broken my heart. Because what we’d had wasn’t just puppy love or a crush. He was the other half of me, and he’d crushed my very soul.

I didn’t remember much about the next month. It was a blur of twisted memories that never made sense. Mom had always told me it was because I’d been at my sickest and had nearly died. The doctors had told my parents to brace for the worst when, in the eleventh hour, they found a donor match that saved my life.

But that month had forever changed my life, and I’d never quite known why. I had an idea, thanks to a cryptic message left for me by a dead girl, but Madelaine hadn’t had all the answers.

No, if I wanted answers, the only person who could give them to me was the man whose lap I was currently cuddled on.

I’d been too angry, too hurt, to hear him out before. Or maybe too scared. My life had been rocked by a lot of revelations over the past few months, but it was better than the alternative. I was so sick of being protected and lied to.

“I need you to tell me the truth,” I told him, barely managing to get the words out around the lump in my throat.

His eyes drifted shut like he was in pain, before he gave a terse nod. “I’ll tell you anything. Everything. Whatever you want.”

“No more lies?” I whispered, half begging.

His gaze locked on mine. “Never again, Becca.”

“Okay. Tell me.”

CHAPTER 23

COURT

Eight years earlier

The slam of the front door made the walls of the entire house shake. It was like a gunshot going off, followed by a roar I was all-too-familiar with.

“Court! Get your ass down here!” Dad bellowed. I could picture him standing in the middle of the marble foyer, bracketed on either side by the dual curving staircases as the massive bronze-and-crystal chandelier above him swayed, not immune to his wrath.

I looked up from my science homework and glanced out the bedroom window, wondering if it made more sense to bail and take my chances with the twenty-foot drop. I could probably hide at Becca’s. I’d seen her dad’s car leave hours ago with her in it, probably on their way to another appointment.

My stomach clenched, remembering how pale she’d been when I’d left her this morning. The bluish bruising under her eyes was getting worse. She’d lost so much weight. Every time I saw her it was like she was shrinking. She was so tiny—too tiny—and always looked so down. I hated it. I missed the girl who always made me laugh.

Nine-year-olds shouldn’t worry they were going to die. It wasn’t fair.

Her bedroom window faced mine, and despite the distance between our large houses, we still talked on the phone at night, sitting in front of our windows so it was like we were together.

Anger built in my chest as I heard Dad yell for me again. I hated him so much. Hated the way he yelled at Mom and me. The fact that he was a giant liar and had a whole other family on the other side of town.

I had five brothers. Five. It had been six, but one of them died a few months ago. Mom and Dad had been fighting about it when I’d come home from soccer practice. They hadn’t known I was there, but I’d heard it all. Mom had been screaming, yelling that I wasn’t going to end up like King; that Dad couldn’t hurt me if he still wanted access to Grandpa and Nana’s money.

It had taken a lot of listening to figure out that it meant Dad had been part of something that killed a brother I’d never known existed until after he died. Something he wanted me to do, too, but Mom wouldn’t let him. Dad had slammed the door so hard the walls shook when he left, and he didn’t come back for almost two weeks.

---