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He sounds like he knows something, and I forge on. “I just wanted to ask what you know about her. She’s sick, right?”
A silence greets my words. Ash is probably thinking about hanging up on me.
Shit. “Look, Zane told me she’s sick, and he’s off to visit her. I just want to know what is wrong with her. I want to help Zane, but it’s hard without knowing stuff.”
Not sure I’m making much sense, but maybe he hears my worry in my voice, because he says, “Okay.”
Okay what?
“Emma has cancer.”
I blink. My stomach cramps. I’d feared this but had hoped against all hope it was something else. “What sort?” I croak. “Will she live?”
“Breast cancer. I thought she was in remission. Haven’t been able to get a single fucking word about it from Zane in months now, though.”
Cancer. No wonder Zane is so worried.
“Do you know something I don’t?” Ash asks.
“Nope. Sorry.”
“Never mind,” he says, sounding tired. “Got to go now.”
Like Zane said this morning. “Thank you. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help Dylan.”
“Thanks.” There’s more warmth in his voice when he says this. “Take care.”
I should take care of Zane, I think, as I pass the cell back to Audrey. Everyone is so focused on Dylan right now I have the impression they don’t see how close to breaking Zane is.
But how can I help him? Can’t do much when he’s not here. When he clearly stated he didn’t want my company this weekend.
Do you give a person you care for what they want, or what they need? Do I know what Zane needs?
Debatable. I’m not wiser than other girls my age. Not all-knowing. Still, I’ve been somewhere most girls my age haven’t been: close to death, close to utter despair. So maybe I do know what Zane needs. Maybe even more so than Zane himself.
***
It’s late when I return to the apartment. I stand in the living room, feeling out of sorts without Zane there. The silence is oppressive. So I undress and go to bed, but can’t sleep. After tossing and turning for hours, I give up. My feet take me to his bedroom, and I sit on his bed. His dark scent wafts around me, and I curl up over the sheets, burying my nose in his pillow.
I wish he were here with me. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.
I drift off like that, waking up at some point to burrow under the covers, his scent surrounding me like his embrace, lulling me back to sleep.
And wake up with a scream caught in my throat, flailing. Falling. I expect to feel the impact on my back, I expect water to fill my mouth, and my body to lose all sensation as I sink lower and lower, unable to move.
No. I can move. I’m okay. My hands shake so badly I can barely grip the covers, but I do, and I throw them off me. I wiggle my toes, then lift my feet, first the one, then the other. I can move. I’m okay now.
Trembling, I get up and walk to the kitchen. My heart is beating so fast I’m dizzy. Cold. Shaky. I need something warm. Grabbing a filter, I set about making coffee.
If Zane was here, he’d have held me until I forgot all about the damn dream. The damn memory.
I could call him.
The idea stills me. He’s with his sick sister. Why disturb him for a dream?
Then again… I glance at the gurgling coffee machine, then at his empty seat. If he doesn’t want to answer the phone, he doesn’t have to. Tears are stinging my eyes, and for some reason, of all the people I know, it’s his voice I need to hear.
Because he promised not to let me fall.
