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JADE
March
“Are you sure?”
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I look up to find Grace watching me with worry in her eyes.
“Yes, I’m sure,” I curl my fingers around the door handle and push it. My whole body feels heavy, but I force one leg out, followed by the other. “You have a class to get to, and I need to buy a few things.”
“I feel shitty for just leaving you here. You just had chemo! Are you sure you’re feeling well? No side effe—”
“I’m fine.”
For now.
Grace offered to drive me to the hospital for chemo today since Nixon had to discuss something about the upcoming draft with Coach, and Yasmin had work. Yas wanted to exchange her shift, but Grace had the morning free, so I asked if she could do it instead. I would drive myself, but each treatment was so unpredictable. Once I started to throw up in the hospital, sometimes I’d be a shaky mess in the car on the way home. Others, I was completely fine until hours after the treatment. It sucked to have to depend on others, but I’d do it rather than risk getting people hurt because I insisted on an independence I didn’t really need.
“Besides, it’s just a five-minute walk. I’ll be fine.”
“Call me if you need help. Please?”
“Okay. Now go to class. I don’t want you to be late because of me.”
Just as I shut the door, she yells: “Text me when you get home.”
“Fine, just go already!”
Pulling the strap of the backpack higher on my shoulder, I force myself to put one leg in front of the other as I make my way inside. First, I stop at the pharmacy to refill the medication I’ll need in the next few days. The lady eyes me warily, but I don’t have it in me enough to care.
Grabbing the medicine, I go toward the exit. I can feel the headache looming just behind my temples, and my mouth feels dry, a bitter taste lingering on my tongue.
Maybe I should grab a water?
Walking down the aisle, I narrow my eyes, trying to see what’s inside, but my vision is blurry. Is it? It looks like drinks.
I’ll just grab a bottle, and then I’m out.
I inhale deeply, trying to calm my breathing.
“Jade?”
I turn around, but the fast movement makes me dizzy. Black spots cloud my vision, as my legs wobble underneath me.
Shit. I extend my hand, trying to find something, anything to hold onto, as my body sways, but there is nothing. Strong arms wrap around me just when I think I’ll fall on my ass. My body tenses for a moment until the familiar scent reaches my nostrils.
Prescott.
“I’m here,” he whispers as he pulls me to his chest. “I’ve gotcha.”
I let my body sink against him, knowing he won’t let me fall. A shudder runs through me. I clench my fingers around his shirt, trying to hold on to some of his warmth.
“Are you okay? What’s wro—” He moves me at arms’ length, and even with blurry vision, I can see the frown between his brows, the worry in his eyes. He lifts his arm and presses his palm against my forehead, which earns him another shudder. “You’re burning up.”
I guess I should have expected it. Fever wasn’t one of the symptoms in those early few rounds, but the last couple of times, I’ve had it.
“What are you doing here with a fever?”
“I had to pick up some medicine, and then I figured I might grab a few things for the house.”
