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ADDISON
“Willow, hurry up!” Emily’s attempt at a yell comes out as a rasp and not quite as loud as she probably thinks it is.
She’s tucked into the oversized chair in the corner of her room, wrapped up in an afghan blanket she told me was once her mother’s. A variety of blues and whites are weaved together to create a snowflake design. It brings out both the blue in her eyes and the paleness of her cheeks, making her look especially fragile today. She’s become so thin over the time I’ve been here, and she looks like she’s close to breaking.
Chase must think so too, because he’s standing in the doorway between us, arms crossed over his chest and a frown marring his handsome features.
“Emily, you should really eat something,” he suggests.
Her face morphs from her sweet, pleasant smile into the annoyed look that has taken up an almost permanent residence whenever Chase is around. The past few weeks have been tense between the two of them. He’s constantly pushing her to eat, to rest, to not so much as breathe without her nurse’s approval, but all she wants his for him to leave her alone.
“Tell me what to do one more time, Chase Prescott, and I’m kicking you out,” she retorts.
I grimace, turning my back to them and busying myself with the task at hand.I don’t hear what he mutters in response before he storms out of the room. I turn around and make a face behind his back, hoping to bring a smile to hers. One corner of her mouth tilts up. It’s small, but I’ll take it.
“I really need him to back off,” she says sadly. “He’s being too overbearing, and it’s just making things worse.”
Nodding in understanding, I walk over to her chair and plant myself down on the side. I wrap my arm around her shoulders. As big as the arm rest is, it barely holds my ass, which has admittedly already started to get bigger. I blame Chase’s incredible cooking and enabling ways whenever I so much as think about having a craving.
Emily and I are both quiet, leaning into each other and accepting the other’s comfort.
“Want me to talk to him?” I ask, squeezing her gently.
“No, I should probably take care of it. Same talk, different day,” she says on a sigh.
“He means well,” I tell her, though I know she knows that deep down. My side is starting to ache from the stretch of leaning over, so I right myself. “I know it’s a lot sometimes, but he’s really struggling with being so helpless. And you know I would never want you to feel like we were ganging up on you, but it does feel like you’ve stopped caring about taking care of yourself.”
“We’re already close to the end, Addison,” she states. “I can feel it in my bones.”
I blink slowly, trying to digest her words. I want to allow them to wash over me and give me the strength to get through this. But instead, they leave me cold and empty. I wish there was some secret to navigating the loss we’re all so close to experiencing.
I’m not given much time to dwell on it, because an excited Willow comes bursting into the room, dressed like a mad scientist taking a beach day.
“What in the world are you wearing?” Emily asks before bursting into strained laughter.
Willow’s eyes fall downward, her hands patting down her front and around to her butt before landing on her hips.“What?” she exclaims. Her grin is wide, and she looks perfectly satisfied with herself.
“Okay, the swimsuit I get,” I say, gesturing toward her sparkly rainbow one-piece. “But what’s with the goggles?”
“They’re for safety! What if hair goes flying or something?”
“She is one hundred percent your child, Em,” Chase says, walking back into the room and plopping belly first onto the bed. He pops his chin up on his fists and smiles at me.
“You’re pretty,” he says.
I roll my eyes with a laugh and stand from the chair, ruffling his hair as I pass by. “Okay, Willow, into the bathroom.”
She squeals and runs in behind me before jumping into the warm bath water I’ve already ran for her. Water splashes into her face, and she smirks and taps her goggles in an I told you so.
I laugh and grab the shaving cream and razor from the sink. A loud scraping sound comes from the bedroom and I turn to see Chase dragging Emily’s chair to sit right up against the doorway into the bathroom. Chase hovers behind her.
Willow’s eyes dance around to all of us before she shakes her head and holds out her hand. I give her the strawberry-scented shaving cream, and Emily starts explaining to Willow how to use it.
“Just do one leg at a time. You only need to shave from right above your knee down,” she says. “So you only need to put it there.”
“Wait, what?” I frown. “You don’t shave your thighs?”
“No, do you?” she asks, seeming both amused and bewildered.
