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Instead, I’ll put my faith in South—he’s independent and not family—at least through the next stage. Then, I will play it by ear, and if the news gets progressively worse, I will reassess who I need to tell, but the plan remains the same for now.
“You’re a good man, South. Thank you for everything because I don’t know where this road is taking me. Whether this is a benign lump or…” I pause because saying the words out loud is utterly terrifying, but I have to face facts here, this is my reality, and I’m living it in neon fucking colors, “… if this is b-breast c-cancer…” I can’t help but stutter the words, and instantly, his hand comes out to grip mine tighter, “… then I need to prepare myself for all outcomes. Whatever they may be.”
“I got you, Ingrid. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m in this with you now, whether you like me or not.”
“Shouldn’t that be likeitor not?”
He winks. “Potato potahto,” he says, then shoves a curly fry in his mouth. “You should eat. Sally makes a mean curly fry.”
I shrug. “Why the fuck not.” I grab a fry, dunk it in ranch, and pop it in my mouth. The cool, tangy hit of the ranch, teamed with the seasoned fry, is something I wasn’t expecting. It’s freaking delicious. “Oh, I like the ranch with this.”
“Right? The guys back home say I’m weird. But it’s fucking good, yeah?”
There’s something about South that feels comfortable.
That feels safe.
That feels familiar.
I just can’t place it.
“Yeah, it’s fucking good.”
He grabs a fry and dunks it in the ranch. “Knew it! Those fuckers giving me shit all this time,” he mumbles, even though he knows I can hear him.
My hand slides up, gently rubbing his back. “There, there… you’ll be okay.”
He glances at me mockingly. “Look, all I am saying is, people undervalue my culinary expertise.”
“Thank you for making this far less morbid than it could have been.”
He grips my knee and squeezes, his eyes meeting mine. “Morbid characterizes shit like death, and we’re not going there, Ingrid. You’renotgoing there. This is a journey sent to test you. To test your strength. To remind you how fucking solid and badass you are.”
A single tear falls down my cheek as I stare into his eyes, and his thumb gently wipes it away, his fingers lingering on my skin a little longer than necessary. “You got this, okay?”
Sniffling, I bring my hand up and lace my fingers with his. “I got this,” I whisper back.
“No, that won’t do at all. Say it like you damn well mean it!”
“I got this,” I reply a little louder.
South stands, throwing his arms out to his sides, grabbing the people’s attention nearby. I widen my eyes as I yank on his cut. “Nope, you gotta say it louder so everyone can hear you.”
The couple nearest us chuckles, having no clue what’s happening as South grabs my arm and hoists me up.
I groan, standing beside him. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I mumble under my breath.
“Say it with me now, Ingrid. And you better believe it when you do. You ready?”
I groan, but I know he won’t stop until I do.
“I got this!” he says so loud that even Sally looks our way now in curiosity. He nudges my side as I giggle beside him. “C’mon, Ingrid, say it with me!”
Taking a deep breath, I face our audience, plaster a fake smile, and sigh. “I got this,” I murmur.
South shakes his head as the other people in the café smile. Then he wraps his arm around my waist. “C’mon, Ingrid, I need you to believe it.” He looks into my eyes and nods once. “Believe it, angel.”
My heart beats faster, and my palms sweat as I stand taller, somehow finding my inner strength as I glance at the sea of people staring at me. “I got this!” I declare loudly.
