Ethan, talking now, loud and sassy, always giggling.
Lila, nothing but pure kindness.
My husband. The man who didn’t leave my side even when the whole world called me a murderer. He’d stayed and fought when he could have walked away, found comfort in another woman’s arms, far away from all of this.
And my mother.
God. My mother.
The woman I owed everything to.
“Go!” Brian shouted, tearing me out of my thoughts.
But I didn’t move.
Dylan’s smile dropped instantly. His brows pulled together, and his hand reached for mine.
I shook my head, signaling to him I was fine. I pointed at him, tapped my heart, then pointed back at him again. The motions were clumsy but familiar. I still didn’t speak to them. Not since that night in the woods.
My fingers curled, twitching. I wanted to write something. I wanted to grab a pen and explain. But my hand fell back into my lap. Writing wasn’t an option either.
I’m fine, I mouthed, exaggerating the words.
It was a lie.
I’d been in deep and constant pain. The cancer came back after a year of something that felt like a normal life.
After my release, they took out as much of the cancer as they could. Platinum-based chemotherapy followed. A few months later, the cancer was gone. Like a miracle, considering Iwas stage four when my rotting body walked out of jail almost two years ago.
But now it was back, and my prognosis didn’t look good.
I smiled for the kids. Nodded when they asked if it would go away like before. My stomach tightened every time. Because I knew it wouldn’t.
“I think we should go inside,” Dylan said, signaling my mom.
She nodded and walked over to me.
But before she reached me, my hands slammed against the wheels. I pushed hard, and the chair launched forward. I took off down the street like a storm.
“Hey!” Dylan shouted, faking outrage.
The kids exploded with cheers, running after us.
I twisted in my seat and saw Dylan chasing after me, laughing as his eyes locked on mine.
“Kick his ass!” Brian yelled.
“Go, girl!” Amanda hollered.
And for that stretch of pavement, with the sun warm on my skin and my family around me, I was alive again.
I’d made it just over the finish line, the driveway to our home, when a sharp sting sliced through my lungs. I hated that part about the cancer the most. The way my body betrayed me and ruined everybody’s good time.
I folded forward, gasping for air, and just like that, Dylan was at my side. His arms slid under my knees and behind my back, and he lifted me out of the wheelchair as if I weighed nothing.
Which wasn’t far from the truth. I was a skeleton.
“Time to rest, wild lady,” he said softly.
