* * *
By the time we arrive back at our loft, my ass is the deadest it’s ever been. I offered for Mary to stay with us, but only now is it dawning on me that it may be a little awkward, considering I only have one room. I had the penthouse and garage converted, but the remainder of the building is in its original warehouse condition. I didn’t need the room nor the money, so I was happy for it to stay vacant, but now I’m putting some serious thought into having them converted into apartments so Mary can visit Kylie as often as she likes. I’m sure even Melanie would be up for an all-expenses-paid trip across the country.
While Mary, Kylie and I ride the elevator, I take a mental note to call my builder. With the right amount of coin on offer, I’m confident he’ll get to work the instant Rise Up goes back on the road.
When we exit the elevator, the living fucking daylights are scared out of me from a massive “Surprise!” roaring through my loft. After gathering my heart from the floor, I raise my eyes. My bandmates, their partners, Jacob, Lola, and my parents are standing in my living room, smiling broadly.
While Emily gives Kylie her birthday greetings, Jenni joins me at my side. “I know her birthday isn’t until next month, but we didn’t want to miss the opportunity to eat your mom’s famous triple-layer chocolate cake.” As she rubs the little bump in her stomach, her mouth salivates.
Like my mom can read Jenni’s pregnancy cravings, she walks out of the kitchen with her famous cake covered in several candles. When everyone breaks into a surprisingly well-tuned version of “Happy Birthday,” Kylie’s smile competes with the twenty-four candles on her cake, only disappearing when she blows them out with one large breath.
* * *
My mom’s cake is as good as I remember, but that doesn’t mean she’ll go easy on me when I enter the kitchen hoping for another slice.
“What? It's fucking delicious.”
I grin like a loon when she cuts me a super large piece. Give my mom the slightest compliment, and watch how well-rewarded you’ll be for it.
After polishing off my third slice today, using my tongue to get every last drop of frosting, I hand my sparkling clean plate to my mom. She laughs before dunking it into the suds in the sink. “I don’t even need to wash it.”
Before I can reply, Jacob’s deep, rumbling laugh bounces around my loft. I don’t know what Kylie is telling him, but she’s had him in stitches most of the afternoon.
“She gets along well with your friends.”
My eyes stray back to my mom before I jerk up my chin. “Yeah, she does.”
Everyone loves Kylie the instant they meet her. That’s why I haven’t told them she was sick. I know what Serena went through when everyone found out. They treated her differently. The kids at school avoided her like she had the plague, worried leukemia might be contagious, and even her pathetic boyfriend she should have never had vanished. I hated how she was treated, so I’ll do everything in my power to ensure Kylie is never treated the same way.
“Can I ask you something?”
My mom finishes drying a dish before turning around to face me. Her eyes are glossed with sheen, revealing she heard the panic in my question, but she nods all the same.
I swish my tongue around my mouth, praying a bit of moisture will ease out my words. “What are the chances of being diagnosed with ALL for a third time?”
Kylie is well now, but I’m terrified she’ll get sick again. Although I could google statistics, my mom is a chairperson on the Serena Scott Foundation, so she’s very knowledgeable about this type of stuff.
“Kylie had ALL twice?”
“You knew about the first time?”
Nodding, her eyes shift from Kylie to me. They’re brimming with tears. “I had an inkling just from looking in her eyes. They have the same fighting spirit Serena’s had; I just didn’t know what caused it. Then when you said you met her on the anniversary of Serena’s death, I knew she was brought into your life for a reason.” Her throat works hard to swallow before she continues. “How old was she the second time?”
I cross my arms in front of my chest to hide the shake of my hands. “Twenty-one. It’s why she left me.”
My mom exhales a big breath that rattles my dreads. “I don’t know what the odds are of her getting it again, but the fact she survived a second bout shows how truly strong she is. Usually adult patients who relapse only have a ten percent survival rate past five years.”
Her confession sucker-punches me. It steals the air from my lungs before threatening to bring up the three slices of cake I gobbled down.
Upon spotting my pale cheeks, my mom tries to coerce me off the ledge. “She’s strong, Slater. Look at her.”
When she thrusts her hand at Kylie, I follow the direction of its swing. She’s smiling and laughing with our friends—happiness is beaming out of her.
“Serena wouldn’t have brought her into your life to have her taken away. You have to believe that. Don’t treat her like a porcelain doll that might break. She’ll never forgive you if you do.”
After squeezing my hand in support, she takes Kylie a large piece of her birthday cake. Even with her eyes revealing she is stuffed to the brim, Kylie thanks my mom with a smile before shoveling a fork full of frosting into her mouth. When she moans, our eyes collide. Her smile is for everyone else, but the glint in her eyes is solely for me.
When she uses the fork to summon me into the living room, I muster up my best fake grin before following her demand to a T. Kylie is a fighter. The fact she made it this far proves how strong she is. I’ll never stop worrying, but for now, I’ll enjoy having her back in my life and treat every day as a fucking blessing.
