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“It’s Dennis,” she deadpanned.
“What?”
“Dennis. He’s the other asshole I’m trying to look good for.”
I laughed. “Dennis, that fat old bald man that calls you ‘girl’? The one that memorizes ball stats from 1863?”
She nodded.
“Shit, I got my work cut out for me.”
She slowly peeled her shirt off, put on a bra, and shrugged on the dress I’d handed to her. When she reached for her wig, I stopped her. “Leave it, babe. I told you I thought you’d be beautiful with dark hair, blonde hair, or no hair at all. And I was right. You’re beautiful without it.”
She gasped, loud and slow. “You guys!” she yelled.
My teammates laughed.
“When did you—? How did you—?” And then she cried—the good kind of cry. She tried to bolt, like I knew she would, so I held on to her waist to make sure she stayed put.
“What’s wrong?” I teased.
She buried her head in my chest.
“Chloe,” Grant, our team captain, sang. “You don’t want to show us some love?”
She raised her head, looked up at me, and whispered loudly, “Blake. The entire Duke basketball team is in our living room.”
“I know.”
“It’s not funny!” she said a little louder.
I laughed.
Then she stomped on my foot. Hard.
That got laughs.
She finally looked at the team. “Where did all your hair go?”
They cheered just as Mom came out with a birthday cake. We sang Happy Birthday, and Chloe blew out the candles, crying the entire time.
Josh and Tommy showed up a little later, and so did Mary and Dean and the kids. It didn’t take long for her exhaustion to settle in.
“I need to take a nap,” she said. “But you stay down here. I’ll only be an hour.”
I led her upstairs, helped her change, and got her into bed.
“Why did the team do that?” she asked once she was settled. “Why did they shave off their hair? For me?”
“And for me, too. They wanted to do something. It was Grant’s idea. They all raised money and made a charity event out of it. The money went to Duke Cancer Institute.”
“I like them. They’re good people.” Her eyes started to drift shut as she slowly lost the will to stay awake.
“Sleep, baby. I’ll come up and check on you in a bit.”
“I love you, Blake,” she whispered. “Thank you for giving me this life.”
A second later, she was asleep. I stayed up there for another half hour, watching her chest peacefully rise and fall.
Though I’d never admit it to her, it was hard. Keeping up with college classes, basketball, taking care of her . . . sometimes, it got the best of me. The pressure and the uncertainties of our life made every day a struggle. Mom being around helped, but when Chloe was in for a session or a doctor’s appointment, and I had practice or games and couldn’t be with her—I hated it.
At first, I’d been a mess on the court. I’d been distracted, and the coaches and the players, they’d understood. But I hadn’t thought it was fair to them for me to take up a spot when my head and my heart weren’t always in the game. I’d tried to quit once. Chloe—she didn’t know this. Coach had said to give it a year, and if I still felt the same—if the pressure was still too much—he’d let me walk. He’d be disappointed, but he’d let me go.
Sometimes I still thought of quitting. But then there’d be days like today. Where the support of everyone around us was overwhelming, and I knew that it’d be worth it. Grant—he was nothing to me. Not really. But he knew enough to understand what it would mean to Chloe if they did what they had done.
He’d told me the idea one day after practice, once everyone had left the locker room. He’d said that he’d run the idea by the team, and they’d all been eager to do it. Not just for her, but for me. I was glad that he’d waited for everyone to leave, because I’d cried like a bitch. He’d sat next to me and let me get it out. He’d said that we were more than just teammates; we were brothers, and I didn’t need to feel the pressure of it all—not when I had fifteen of my brothers to carry some of the weight.
So I’d done it—I’d asked for help. They’d worked out my schedule and what classes I had to go to and what classes they could cover for me. For those, they took notes or had friends take notes, and I was able to spend more time with Chloe. Which was all I’d wanted in the first place.
I wiped my eyes as I watched her flip to her side, relaxed and sleeping. And I knew it then—even without the support of everyone around us, it would be worth it. Chloe—she was worth it.
She was worth everything.
I checked on her a few more times while people were there, but it didn’t seem as though she was going to wake up anytime soon. Mom helped clean up and took Tommy to her house, asking Josh if he could stay with her until Josh was ready to leave. I told Josh that he could stay the night, and Mom was more than happy to have Tommy with her.
Josh and I settled on the back patio.
He took a swig of his beer. “How are you, fucktard?”
I laughed. It seemed like so long ago since we’d talked shit and worked in that bowling alley. “It goes alright, shitstain.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Are you sure?”
