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You kill everyone you love.
Pressing my lips together, I settle for another reassuring squeeze before I get up. Grabbing a change of clothes from her closet, I go to the bathroom, leaving the door open as I quickly wash up, the smell of her shampoo filling the space.
Once done, I returned to her bedroom to find her lying down, her eyes closed. Carefully, I lay next to her and pull her into my arms. Her body is stiff under my touch, signaling she’s awake.
“It’s going to be okay, Jade.”
She doesn’t say anything, not that I expect her to. I don’t let go, and eventually, she relaxes against me, but as I’m drifting to sleep, I’m pretty sure I hear her whisper: “I’m not so sure about that.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
JADE
Pulling the hoodie over my head, I hear my phone buzz on the nightstand. I grab it, checking the message.
Hotshot:
You don’t have to go if you don’t feel well.
I roll my eyes and type back,
Me:
I feel fine. That’s why I’m coming.
Some days I swear if you were to ask Prescott and Nixon, they would put me in a protective bubble and never let me out. But I couldn’t just lay in bed and do nothing for the next few months between chemo sessions. It was already driving me crazy, and it hadn’t even been a full month.
Me:
I’ll see you after the game. Good luck xx
I’m just about to exit my phone, so I can finish getting ready when an e-mail catches my attention. I open it, scanning the message before my gaze flies to the date in the corner of my phone.
“Shit.”
Between throwing up and studying for finals, I almost forgot I had less than a week to submit the images for the gallery exhibition. In the end, I decided to go with the couple’s photo. Although I wasn’t completely happy with it, I had to submitsomething,and it wasn’t like I could go around campus and try to shoot something better anyhow.
Setting the alarm with the reminder to send the photos to my professor later tonight, I go to the bathroom, where I put a little bit of makeup on to try and cover the dark circles under my eyes, not that I’m really successful, but it’ll have to do.
My gaze falls on the hairbrush. Letting out a long breath, I take it in my hand and look up at the mirror.
For a moment, I stare at my reflection, hating the suffocating feeling tightening my chest the longer I watch.
Slowly, I lift my hand and glide my brush through my hair. My eyes fixed on the mirror as I move my hand in gentle, even strokes.
Glide, glide, glide.
My hair has grown thinner recently, more fragile. I would have been a fool not to notice. I would have been a fool not to notice the amount of hair in the drain after a shower.
Too soon.
It’s all happening way too soon.
I’m not ready.
A knock startles me out of my thoughts as the door pushes open, and Grace peeks inside. “Hey, you ready?”
“Just about.” Reluctantly, I put the brush down, turning my back to the counter to ignore the number of strands that have fallen off. “You don’t have to go with me, you know. Yasmin will be there.”
