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“Is that even a question?” I arch a brow, not missing the way the side of her mouth hitches as she tries to fight off a smile.
“Go. She’s waiting for you.”
I nod, heading down the hallway toward Finley’s room. I’m so nervous. The only thing I can hear is my heart hammering inside my chest.
Pushing open the door, I immediately spot Finley propped up against the worn headboard of her bed, a big, thick comforter pulled up to her waist.
Her hair is down, and while she still looks tired, she looks much more herself today than she did yesterday. Some of the color has returned to her cheeks and she smiles when she sees me enter.
“Hey.” I shut the door behind me, slowly crossing the dimly lit room.
“Hi.” She pats the bed next to her. “I’m not contagious,” she tells me when she senses my hesitance.
“I wouldn’t care if you were.” I grin, taking a seat on the side of the mattress before angling myself toward her. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good.” She smiles, sending an assortment of feelings swarming through me.
“So...” I look around the room that’s sparsely decorated, not missing the piles of books stacked in the corner. “This is where you live.”
“It’s not much.” She shrugs. “But it’s home.”
“I see you weren’t kidding about the books.” I gesture to the corner.
“That’s just what I’ve purchased over the last year, plus what I brought with me. If I could have brought all the books I’ve had in my life they’d likely be piled to the ceiling.” She laughs.
“Speaking of books.” I reach inside my jacket and pull out the gift I bought her when I visited the book store with Andrew. Extending the book to her, I watch an array of emotions pass over her face as she looks at it.
“Tam Thompson.” She smiles, running her finger over the author’s name. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did.” I lean forward. “I know you probably already have this book, and that it’s not in the best shape, but look.” I flip open the cover to reveal the author’s autograph. “I’m guessing your copy doesn’t have that in it.”
“Abel.” Her hand goes over her mouth and I’m not sure if she’s about to laugh or cry. “This is incredible. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I practically walked out of the store with it for free. Clearly whoever it belonged to didn’t treasure it the way I knew you would.”
“I seriously don’t know what to say.” She looks up, her glassy eyes meeting my gaze.
“You can start by telling me what’s wrong with you.” I take the book from her hand and set it on the bedside table.
“Abel.”
“Just be honest with me, Finley. Whatever it is, I promise I can handle it.”
“Brain cancer,” she blurts so quickly it takes me a moment to process what she actually said.
“Brain cancer?” I draw back slightly.
“They think they got it all but we won’t be sure until a few weeks after I finish chemo.”
“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “How about you start from the beginning?”
“I can do that.” She nods. “I actually found out the day I met you.” She looks down to where her hands are knotted in her lap. I reach over and grab one of them, wrapping my fingers tightly around hers, urging her to continue. “That’s why I was in that bar. I’m obviously not old enough to drink, and it’s not like I was meeting friends there. I don’t know. I had been walking for hours and I saw that bar and something came over me. I knew I had to go inside. And that’s where you found me.” She finally meets my gaze, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “I should have told you right away. I should have been up front with you. But when you looked at me, I don’t know, I just couldn’t do it. You smiled at me and I forgot. And it was so easy to pretend with you.”
“Tell me what led up to you being in the bar. How long have you been sick?”
“That’s just it. Iwasn’tsick. Or at least I didn’t know I was. I had been having some headaches, a few dizzy spells, nothing major. I went in for some testing the week before never dreaming that the outcome would be cancer.”
“But you had surgery?” I gesture to her head where her incision is now covered by her hair.
