Page 120 of Meet Me in the Dark: The Complete Series

Me:You've given me more than I could have asked for, or hoped for, when we started down this road. I can't thank you enough for that, for making me see that what I want and need isn't something I should have to change or be ashamed of. But what we've shared has to come to an end now. I need to say goodbye, even though I'm sure we'll always be friends. This is where what we had ends, and our friendship begins. Goodbye, Jackson.

Every single word, hell, every letter, feels like a lie, because what I want to say is that I love him, but I know he's not interested in that, so I'm saying goodbye to protect myself from more hurt, and him from having the body of someone who's given him their heart. I try to convince myself to press the send button, but I just end up groaning and throwing my phone down before taking some more of the medicine that's been letting me drift to a glorious sleep for most of today and yesterday. But I'm awoken by my doorbell ringing. I blink my eyes open at it, realizing it's now nighttime, but don't move to get up. Everyone I can think of knows not to come here, so whoever that is can piss off. The doorbell rings two more times before, thankfully, for the headache I feel just begging for a reason to explode in my brain, it stops. I close my eyes again, but they spring open when I hear the floor creak near my bedroom.

Fear shoots through me. I would not be able to fight off anyone right now. I get my phone out, unlocking it to call 9-1-1 when my bedroom door begins slowly opening. Panic and terror flare through me as my eyes widen, desperately trying to use the light from my TV to see who's there. Both treacherous relief and now all too familiar heartbreak fill me as I realize who it is.

Jackson.

Chapter 11

"If you're here..." I have to swallow to clear the croak from my throat. I can't even remember the last time I spoke. Definitely not long after each word started making my throat feel like it was on fire. "If you're here for what I think you are, you really, really picked a bad time."

He chuckles, coming farther into the room. "Well, you're making jokes, so I guess you're not quite knocking on death's door."

"I'm not?" I close my eyes and ask. "Because it definitely feels like it."

"Well then I am here to help you tell death to fuck off."

I open my eyes at his words, and how close they are to me now. He's sitting on the end of my bed, leaning toward me. He brings his hand to my forehead, and I see his eyebrows furrow.

"You're burning up."

"What time is it?" I question.

"A little after seven."

I nod. "I'm due for my medicine."

I begin to reach over to the nightstand, but he stops me. "Hey, I'll get it. I told you, I'm here to take care of you."

My eyes widen. "No, no. You've got to go. You'll get sick too. I told everyone not to come so they wouldn't get sick and pass it on to Shawn. You gotta go."

"I'll be fine. I'll have you know I never get sick." He laughs at my exasperated face. "What? It's true. You can ask Law. Never had so much as a cold. They should probably study me or use my blood to cure people or something."

"If you get sick, I'm coming to take care of you right back, but I'll also be beating you up for lying."

"I never lie. Now, let's get you medicated and then I've got some homemade chicken noodle soup still hot for you."

"You... made me soup?"

"Of course, I did. I would've been here sooner, but I didn't know you were sick."

It hangs between us, him saying I should have told him. But why? Have we passed some sort of barrier now that would have meant me texting him that I was ill would have elicited a response, a phone call? He's here now, so clearly, he does care, and it confuses me so much.

"But now that I see how bad you are, I won't think you were just blowing me off."

Guilt swarms me, that he's here after I've been so cold to him. That I'm too much of a coward to tell him the truth, to stop him from believing the lie.

"Fifteen milliliters, right?" he asks.

"Oh, uh, yeah."

He pours the medicine into the cup and holds it to my mouth. I take it, swallowing it, as my guilt begins turning into confusion. Why is he here? This has nothing to do with our arrangement, nothing to do with what he and I give each other. And yet here he is, nursing me, bringing me soup, staying?

"I'll get the soup from the kitchen. You want tea, water, anything?"

"Water. So much water, please."

He smiles, leans forward and kisses my forehead. I'm frozen with shock as he gets up from the bed. But as I watch him leavemy bedroom, shock gives way to the very emotion I've been trying to rip from my heart, trying to wretch from my soul. Love. Fucking love. Painful love. Love.

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