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I rub his back, so smooth and warm, still rippling with muscle, which feels more rigid than it ever has. “I’m really not leaving. I need you to believe that... and trust me.” Tears make my throat feel thick. I swallow. “I don’t want to be away from you.”
I feel him stop breathing for a moment. “And if you stayed?” His voice sounds strong, more firm than what’s normal in the last few days. “If you stayed and... things end badly?” he says, quieter now. “How do you think you’d feel about it then?”
All his muscles tense as he awaits my answer. I close my eyes and try to really go there. To imagine if he wasn’t moving and his skin was cold, and this would be the last time I would be with him.
I swallow, because the first thing I think is, we would never get to be together in the long-term. Which makes it crystal clear what my heart wants. I press my forehead against his back. “It scares me... to keep saying this when I’m not sure how you feel. But I love you. I can’t help it,” I whisper. “I... need you. In this way that doesn’t make sense, logically. But feels natural to me.” My heart pounds, because it’s terrifying, being so straightforward. “But if you died? I think I’d get comfort knowing I was here as long as I could be. Kinda saw you through... and didn’t leave, you know?” Tears drip down my cheeks, trekking across my face toward the pillow. “I couldn’t leave you. I just can’t, so please don’t make me.”
I guess he hears the tears in my voice, because Kellan takes the IV lines in one hand and, with a wince, turns over to face me. He frames my face with both his hands, even though I know it hurts to move the left one.
“I didn’t think you’d come up here. I hoped you wouldn’t find out Ly was your recipient. But now—” he looks into my eyes—“I know I fucked you over. I should never have let things keep on with you. Selfish.”
The low beeping that I’ve almost tuned out picks up, and I realize his heart is beating fast.
“What were you really? You’re not selfish. Were you curious? Once you found out I was ‘sloth’... what was that like?” It’s a question I’ve been longing to ask him.
He shuts his eyes and squeezes my hand. “I loved you too. Before we even spoke. Just watching you.” His eyes open and focus on my face. “I didn’t know it at the time, that that’s what all the interest was. If you tripped on a fucking crack I wanted to go help you. You smiled at someone, I wanted that for me. I would watch your hair...” he works his fingers through it, “and I would want to touch it. See how soft it was. After a while, I realized I didn’t like it, knowing I couldn’t have you. Or anyone, because it wasn’t fair. To let anyone get close to me...” He leans his head down to my chest and hugs me carefully. “The whole thing... started getting to me. I told myself I was pissed off that you were threatening the business. All the charitable deliveries, they depend on the sales. I thought I just needed to get you under heel. But I think even then I knew it could go more places than that.”
“We were meant to meet each other.”
HE LOOKS AWAY FROM ME, and I can sense a wave of pain come over him. I can tell because his body tenses, and after a few seconds, he draws a deep breath.
His eyes shut, and slowly open. “You know, to meet you I have to be sick.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Both times I met you, it was because of cancer.” First because I donated to Lyon, the second time because Kellan was here getting diagnosed with his relapse when his dealers had a dry spell and noticed me.
He lays back against the pillows and pulls an arm over his eyes. “You know, sloth is a sin,” he says softly.
“I prefer to think of it as an adorable animal.”
He peeks at me from underneath his arm. His eyes are dark. “I knew in March.”
“That you had relapsed?”
He blinks. “Not ‘knew.’ ‘Thought.’”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he says bitterly. “I like numbers, remember?” He lets a sharp breath out. “I didn’t like the odds.”
I feel his jaw clench. “I drove off the bridge.”
Tears drip down my cheeks. “That hurts a little, not gonna lie. It makes me sad that you felt so backed into a corner. I wish you had talked to me.”
He gets off the bed. Starts pacing. “I didn’t want you to be here. I didn’t want this.”
“You want me to go?” My heart pounds.
“Yes—of course I do.”
“You didn’t say that when I got here.”
“A moment of weakness.” His features tense, but that doesn’t stop a single tear from falling down his cheek. “I hurt... worse than ever, the bone pain... the wreck. All I could think of was your hands. I couldn’t live without your hands on me. I knew I couldn’t.”
I STEP AWAY FROM CLEO. I can’t think straight so close to her... so I grab a TwoCal Arethea left on the bed side table and walk around to the recliner, where I sit and take a long, disgusting swallow.
“Why’d you come here? Really?” My voice sounds hoarse.
