Chapter 8

Nineteen Years Ago-Age Nine

There were so many

people here. I just knew I was going to throw up and everyone would stare at me thinking, eww, that's the girl who got sick at the school Christmas concert. I was so nervous. I was supposed to sing Silent Night with the rest of my class in a couple of minutes. What if I forgot my lines?

Rick and Ian took my hands, one on each side of me, and squeezed in reassurance. Usually having them near helped calm me when I was upset, but it wasn't helping now. The older kids were coming off the stage with a round of applause from the audience. My class was next. Nearly dragging me, my boys pulled me to our spot on stage.

Our teacher, Mrs. Griffith, announced us, but I couldn't understand anything she was saying. The lights were bright. Putting my hand up to shield my eyes, I located Ian's and Rick's parents in the second row. They were smiling and cheering and clapping their hands.

Then I saw Daddy. My heart dropped. Each of the students was allowed four seats for the concert. Daddy sat next to Mrs. Memmer, but the other three were empty. Empty. No one else's seats were empty. Everyone else had family. Everyone else's mother wanted them, was here for them. Had brothers or sisters or grandparents. Daddy seemed so alone sitting there with no one but Ian's parents.

The room spun. A bitter taste filled my mouth. I was hot and cold. Everyone stared at me. Everyone was thinking, that's the girl whose mother ran out and didn't want her. That's the girl with all the empty seats. That's the girl who was going to be sick at the Christmas concert-

As Mrs. Griffith began playing the opening to Silent Night on the piano, I panicked, pushed past Ian and my classmates, and ran as fast as I could stage right.

The laughter was so loud.

The piano was so loud.

The emptiness was loudest of all.

I ran down the hall to the empty stairwell and huddled on the landing. A sob tore from my chest and it hurt so bad. Hot tears wet my cheeks and I couldn't stop shaking. These panic attacks, as my doctor called them, were becoming more frequent. Leaning against the wall, I tried to draw a deep breath and startled when Ian moved to stand in front of me.

He shifted from foot to foot, looking more uncertain than I felt.

"I'm such a baby." I angrily wiped my tears.

Crouching in front of me, he patted my knee. "You're not a baby. This stupid concert is babyish. I don't blame you for running."

I looked away. Yes, I'd been nervous, but that wasn't why I'd taken off.

He sat next to me, bumping my shoulder with his as we leaned against the wall. "You were lucky that only your dad came. Think how the rest of us feel being embarrassed in front of everyone."

I smiled, about to call him out on the lie, even if it was a good one to make me feel better, but the door at the top of the stairs opened and our principal stood there, glaring, hands on her hips.

"You two get back upstairs right now. This isn't a playground."

Ian straightened and held out his hand to pull me to my feet. "Summer was upset. I followed her."

I nodded to agree, worried we'd get in trouble.

She looked between the two of us, gaze finally stopping on me. "Stage fright?"

"Yes." I swallowed hard, my heart beating so loud I thought she could hear it.

She nodded, sympathy softening her eyes. "Ian, why don't you head back inside? I'll stay with Summer."

"No way!" Ian quickly looked at me, gaze round that he'd defied an adult. It tugged a smile from my lips. "Uh, I mean, I want to stay with her. Please."

Present-Ian

I was awakened with a jolt as someone jumped on top of my heap of blankets and straddled me. I poked my head out from underneath the covers, disoriented. Summer. As if anyone else would dare.

"Don't you know not to wake a man on a Saturday morning?"

"It's Saturday afternoon. Get up. I need you to go to the hospital with me."

I shot up so quickly I knocked her off the bed with a squeak. "What's the matter?" My gaze grazed over her, searching for signs of injury.

"One of my students is in the hospital."

"Oh," I moaned, shoulders sagging in relief. "You ever hear of texting? And I hate the hospital." As if she didn't know that.

"I don't want to go alone."

Shit. She slayed me. "How sick is your student?"

"I won't entirely know until I get there."

She got up and walked to the likeness she'd painted, hanging on my wall. She ran her hand over the texture from the acrylic. Two houses stood alone at night, the moon high. The background captured the creek behind our homes, running slow and still, with trees adorning the endless acres. She'd painted the shot from overhead, as if looking down on the quiet beauty. The style and brush strokes reminded me of a cross between Kincaid and Monet. There were four people on the porch of one house-two sitting on the steps, the other two on her old porch swing. I could almost hear Rick mumbling into Dee's ear above the squeak of the swing, and me next to Summer, complaining about how the grass needed to be cut. That was her ideal heaven, the way she'd always remember her life. Or so she'd said when she'd given me the painting. I stared at it every night when I went to bed.

"It's Jon, Nancy's son. The cancer's back."

My gaze jerked to hers. The heartbreak, the loss, the utter emptiness filled her eyes. It was all she could do not to die inside herself when the kids got sicker. Keep walking into the classroom every Saturday and keep the yearly benefit running. Once in awhile, to go hold a sick child's hand. How I flippin' wished she wouldn't do this to herself.

"I need a shower first," I muttered.

Turning fully to face me, she placed kisses all over my face. "Thank you."

Cold shower, then.

Her smile reached her eyes as she disheveled my already messy hair. "I bought you something today."

She did that a lot. Whether beer from the grocery store or a T-shirt at the mall, I always seemed to be in the back of her mind. I blamed her for the eternal hope I'd clung to for years.

I rubbed my eyes. "What's that?"

"Found some antique brass fittings at the shop next to the hobby store. Perfect for that bureau you're restoring."

I could've kissed her. I'd been hunting far and wide for decent hardware to fit that piece. Knowing her artistic eye, I didn't even need to look at what she'd bought. They'd be perfect. I cleared my throat. "Thank you."

Once we were at the hospital, I immediately knew coming had been a mistake. The smell was already getting to me, the one only a hospital could emanate. Antiseptic. Bleach. Death. I waited while Summer asked the information desk receptionist where Jon was, acting as if it didn't bother her in the least to be here. I absently followed her to the room and scanned the halls for nurses I'd recognize from the endless hours we'd spent here, relieved to see no one who looked familiar.

When she had plowed into my room this morning, I was still shaking off a wild dream of her. Through the years, I'd imagined a number of ways to wake up and find her in bed with me. Her pouncing on me, asking to take her here, had not been one of them. Whenever she came over and crawled into bed with me, for whatever reason, she always managed to disappear the next morning, leaving my bed completely empty. And it was always, always for platonic reasons.

Why couldn't I ever tell her no? She probably wouldn't have come without me and then I wouldn't have to sit here and endure that haunted look in her eyes. My biggest fear? One day I'd stare into those beautiful baby blues and she just wouldn't be there anymore.

The jitterbugs in my stomach had a field day as she nervously knocked on the hospital room door. The caution, oxygen in use sign seemed dreadful. It belonged in the cardiac ward, not pediatric oncology. In a perfect world, there wouldn't be a need for pediatric oncology.

We entered to find Jon's mom, Nancy, next to the bed and his dad, Frank, staring intently out the window. Frank didn't turn around.

"Oh, hello." Nancy's face was tear-stained as she wiped her nose with a tissue.

I stayed in the doorway, wanting to be there for Summer, but not intrude.

"How is he?" Summer glanced at Jon, who lay sleeping.

Nancy shrugged. "Not well. They found another mass yesterday in his body scan. The chemo didn't work." She began to weep, this bone-jarring torrent that had tears lodging in my own throat. "They can't do anything this time."

I stared at the tiny boy, lying in the bed. His hair was gone from all his treatments gone to waste. Summer moved over to Nancy and sat in the chair meant for Jon's dad.

"I'm sorry," Summer said, gripping Nancy's hand.

The whole scene brought back memories of endlessly sitting with her father. I swallowed the rock in my throat and glanced around the room while she patted Nancy's hair. The walls were cream, with a border of some watercolor print. Jon's IV bag kept a slow, steady drip, which might have been hypnotizing if not for the place. It hadn't changed much in all these years.

Tom pulled the oxygen mask away from his face, looking between her and me before speaking. "Take care of each other, you two. Promise me."

Summer frowned. "Don't talk like that-"

"I will," I interrupted. "I'll take care of her. Always."

Summer glared at me like she wanted to shout at me for having this talk and wondering why I would promise such a thing.

"I know you will, boy," he said, patting my hand. "Keep her head out of the clouds, will you? Not so much that she stops dreaming, but enough to keep her on the ground."

I squeezed her dad's hand firmly, fighting the most unimaginable pain in my chest. "Yeah. Will do."

"I'm right here, guys. No clouds in sight."

A nurse came in to check Tom's IV and ask about pain. He denied any.

"Are you two-you know?"

I cleared my throat and exchanged a long look with her father. "Just friends."

"Hell," her father started to say, but he went into a coughing fit.

I put the mask back over his face for a few moments until it passed.

After awhile, he waved his hand and lowered the mask. "I know you're friends. You're both my kids as far as I'm concerned. I changed your diapers, taught you to ride a bike. But, if you two become more than what you are now, just remember that friendship is the most important thing in this world."

Her father had fallen asleep after that, waking up once and, after seeing me holding her in a chair, he smiled at us. "You take care of my baby now," he said between breaths.

Jarred to the bone, I scrubbed my shaking hands over my face.

Nancy looked up suddenly. "I'm sorry I didn't call. He missed your class."

Summer smiled weakly. "It's quite all right. You had more important things to worry about."

Jon turned his head and grinned when he saw his visitor. For a brief moment, there was joy in his eyes.

Summer sat on the edge of his bed and brushed her fingertips across the boy's forehead. "Hey, you. How are you feeling?"

He shrugged. "They said I'm going to heaven soon."

Pain clawed my chest, tore my soul in half, left me goddamn bleeding.

Frank left the room without a sound.

Summer, as always, remained ever calm. "I heard that, too. Are you scared?"

Jon's face wrinkled, as if thinking it over. He nodded, lip quivering.

"You know, once you get to heaven, you'll get all your beautiful hair back. You can eat whatever you want and not get any cavities. You can stay up as late as you wish and there are always cartoons on TV. There aren't any of these tubes or wires. And when you scrape your knee, it doesn't even hurt. God has lots of windows there where you can look out to see how your mommy and daddy are doing."

As if I needed another reason to fall in love with her, there was example five-hundred and three.

Jon looked as if he believed her. "Really?"

"Really. Cross my heart."

Christ. I couldn't take it. I slipped out.

I anxiously paced the hall, trying to think of anything but the deeper blue Summer's eyes got when she'd been battling tears. I rubbed my damp palms on my jeans, chest aching and gut wrecked.

It may as well have been her father lying there instead of Jon. I had a sinking suspicion Tom knew I was in love with his daughter, even back then. I'd always taken the memory of that last talk with him to mean our friendship should always come first. To me, the groundwork for any relationship to stand a chance was friendship. It had been four years since that conversation and where was I?

Pining.

I'd been in love with Summer as long as I could remember. I'd do anything for her. But that didn't mean she loved me back. Not like that. She broke my heart, over and over, day after day, but I loved her so much I couldn't breathe.

And I'd never know how she'd react to my truth if I didn't tell her.