“Yeah, gonna have to disagree on that last one,” I scoff.
She shakes her head and smirks like she doesn’t care what I have to say. She’s looking at me like she finally understands my whole life story. She doesn’t have a clue, though. I’m not sure why it doesn’t piss me off more that she’s assuming. Normally, when anyone even attempts to assume anything about me, I want to knock their teeth in. Maybe it’s because with her, I can’t sense any ill intention. Yet, at least.
“So, if she’s fifteen and you’re her guardian, I’m assuming, where is she at while you’re in paradise?” I ask, more than ready to get the spotlight off me.
She’s more receptive to the topic change than I expect, further complicating the puzzle that is Courtney… Shit, I guess I don’t even know her last name.
“Staying with a friend once she’s done with her rehab, which I can’t check up on because they won’t let us contact the outside world,” she says, shaking her head.
Again, I don’t push, and Courtney seems to do well with that.
“She’s sick. Has been since she was a baby. Dad split, Mom offed herself and since then it’s been just us,” she says with a matter-of-fact shrug, like nothing could change it, so why harp on it.
I don’t respond; I don’t move a muscle or even breathe. I can see how close she is to the edge of falling apart or shutting down completely. So I wait patiently, in the hope she’ll continue.
“Lily was born perfect. I remember looking at her in that hospital bed thinking that nothing could ever compare to her. She was flawless… except for the tumor growing on her liver.”
I do my best not to react as she continues.
“She was only two days old when she had her first surgery. She hit her tenth surgery by her third birthday, and now that she’s fifteen… fuck, I’ve honestly lost track. Every time she beats a cancer, a new one hits her, more aggressive and stronger than the last.”
Courtney swallows roughly, looking down for a moment as she seemingly chokes back tears. “It’s called Von Hippel-Lindau disease, or VHL if you’re a normal person.” She laughs bitterly. “Basically, it’s a genetic condition that causes tumors to grow in your body spontaneously. Not all tumors are malignant with VHL patients. For some reason, though, about seventy percent of Lily’s have been so far.”
Fuck. I hate that for her. For both of them.
“She got a stem-cell transplant before I left, and they said after her body has a little time to recover, they can push into PT. It’s one step closer to getting her home and out of that damn hospital.”
Courtney doesn’t say anything more, and I don’t ask a single question. I know well enough that each piece of information is gifted, not earned. Each broken, jagged piece of her that she’s vulnerable enough to share is something to be protected, and cherished.
“That about cover everything you want to know?” she asks, her tone holding a fiery bite that I know first-hand is a defense tactic to distract me from her emotional state.
“No,” I answer simply.
She lets out a disbelieving scoff before I continue.
“Thank you, though.”
Her face pulls up into something like a sneer. “For what?”
“For telling me. I know you may not believe me, but your secrets will live and die with me.”
Something passes across her face, relief mixed with gratitude as she dips her head. “You know, for some reason, I believe you.”
I nod. I like that.
Movement catches my eye from a little way away, and I spot Noah playing ping-pong with Connor. His eyes aren’t on thegame, though. They’re on us. A thought crosses my mind, and I can’t control my smirk.
“We’ve got an audience, Court.”
Irritation instantly fills her features. “I told you I fucking hate that name.”
“I know. Shut up and crawl into my lap,” I reply.
She goes to turn her head to where I’m looking, but I grab her hips and drag her into my lap. She gasps in surprise as her hands brace on the edge of the hot tub either side of my head.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demands.
“You don’t follow directions very well. Listen carefully and kiss me.”
