We got to church earlier than I thought. Walking in, I’d hoped to sit in the back and just have a good talking to with God. That’s what I needed a heart to heart with the Big Guy. But just my luck, the back pews were already filled with people who had the same idea. Just as I’d picked an innocent spot in the middle, West pointed to the front.
The sight of her took my breath right from my lungs. Every time I saw her, I wanted her more and more. I wanted her more than just today or tomorrow. I wanted Tate Halloway for always.
She laughed at something her brother said, a few seats down from her, and I had to still myself.
How could God create such a beauty just to wreck her with disease?
Of course, I knew there was a good chance she would be here. And most of me was elated to be able to see her earlier than I thought.
Then that little part reminded me that I was a big old liar.
I looked down to make sure my pants were still there and not a charred mess on the floor.
Tate was a little liar too.
Weren’t we a pair?
“She caught you,” West said under his breath. Tate was turned around in her chair staring at me.
I’d never get tired of her staring at me when I didn’t know it.
“Let’s go.”
Her family was still with her—all of them. As I approached, I saw that she was wearing a long white skirt and a sweater with a jacket on top. She was usually cold, but this was a side effect of the meds. She was always cold now.
I knew just the man to warm her up.
“Ma’am.” I tipped my head at her mom and said hello to Macey and Colson. “Hey, Tate.”
“I’ve been missing you.” She said as she kissed my cheek. Even her lips were cold.
“Not as much as me,” I whispered back, with a kiss to her temple. She shivered as the first hymn started up and scooted closer. I didn’t hesitate in pulling her under my arm and in turn, she snuggled against my chest.
Throughout the service, her mom continued to lean forward a little and look at the both of us. Sometimes, she’d look between us and wink or smile. But twice, she looked at my arm over Tate’s shoulder and her chin quivered, like she was about to cry.
She was worried about Tate just like I was—probably more.
No, not possible. I couldn’t imagine anyone being more worried than me, mother or not.
Before the service was over, the pastor asked that we pray for the sick. That’s when Tate’s mom lost it. She tried to hide her crying, but there was no use. Even the woman behind her was patting her back throughout the prayer session.
Our dad told us when we were little that the Bible said not to beg in our prayers.
He would’ve been disappointed in me.
Because that morning, sitting there as close to heaven as I thought we could get, I begged God to save her.
I begged Him to save her, not for me, but for her.
She could make it without me, I wasn’t foolish enough to think otherwise.
But I didn’t know if I could live in a world that didn’t carry Tate’s light.
“Dude,” West said, pointing to my face. I got up and went to the bathroom before she could see me. Ugh, I never cried—not since my parents died.
Just saying the word “died,” even to myself, made me want to throw something.
I came out of the bathroom and Tate and her mom were talking to the pastor. Tate was trying, by pulling on her mom’s dress, to make whatever conversation was happening stop. She looked like a toddler begging her mom to leave.
“Tate,” I called to her. She looked relieved to be dismissed from the conversation.
“Hey, what happened?”
“Oh, you know, I had to use the bathroom.”
“We are having lunch and then they’re leaving. Can—can I see you later? I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. Just text me when you’re ready. I mean, I don’t know if you take a nap or if you’re going to be tired. And if you decide you don’t want to—just text me.”
I sounded perfectly insane.
And her expression proved that I sounded like it too.
“What am I eighty? I don’t usually take naps, Bridger.”
“Yeah, of course not. I didn’t get much sleep.”
“Maybe you need a nap, old man.”
I laughed, but it came out sounding like a goat. “I do. Just text me.” Kissing her chastely on the lips, I left with West on my heels.
“Real smooth, Ex-Lax.”
I was sure West had outgrown that phrase. I’d been wrong.
“I’m all messed up, West. I don’t know how to act around her.”
“Well, acting like a meth-head was a strike out. I can tell you that much. Do better, man. Do better for her.”
Tate texted me after four. I asked her what her favorite takeout was and she replied that she hadn’t had Thai food in months.
Me and my damned gluten-free cupcakes.
She must’ve had a good laugh about that one or at the very least thought I was a grade-A moron.
I’d kept the button down, but changed into jeans and chucks to go see her.
She answered the door right away. She was back in that damned hoodie which meant she was freezing. I took in her form as she waited for me to say something.
Tate Halloway was everything that made my life good. We smiled at the same time and I hoped a part of her wanted me to be her everything too.
She shivered again and rubbed her arms.
Good thing I’d come with provisions.
“I brought two heating pads.”
She looked at the bag I carried and laughed. “Two heating pads? You are an old man.”
“Or I’m the big brother of West, who once thought he could impress some girls at a party by lifting a couch like a bench press. His back was in pretty bad shape the next day.”
“Oh, nice. I am always cold. Those should help. Thank you.”
“I know. So these are for when I’m not here.” I began taking out containers of Thai food. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something?”
She squirmed. “Later. It’s nothing important.”
Shrugging, I handed her the coconut shrimp despite my fear that it would make her sick. “Let’s watch a movie.”
Tate moved to get up, but I circumvented her, reaching the TV and the movies before her. “I got this. What do you want to watch?”
“Whatever. But nothing sappy. I need laughter.”
We went with the Hangover. After we had eaten, I sat on her bed and she sat between my legs with her back against my chest. She felt so right against me, like she belonged there all along. I hated to admit it, but everything I did with her had become an assessment. I hadn’t watched one single second of the movie. I laughed when she did, but only to cover up my inspection. When my arms went around her waist, I gauged how much weight she had lost. When her breath hitched, my heart stopped. When she shivered, I pulled another blanket on top of us.
When she closed her eyes and fell asleep, I kissed her neck both for the joy of the act and to check that her pulse was steady.
Not that I didn’t enjoy having her in my arms again—I did.
I was a mess.
I even counted her breaths as a soothing reminder that she was very much alive.
If she didn’t tell me tonight that she was sick and that she’d been hiding it from me, I was going to do it for her.
The Thai food rumbled in my stomach as agreement.
She woke up sometime later and got up to go to the bathroom. I thought maybe she needed some water or something else, so I offered. “What do you need? What can I get you?”
I knew my mistake as soon as the words left my mouth.
“Come on, Bridger. You can’t pee for me. You’ve been doting on me all night.”
She closed the door and I cleaned up our dinner mess while she was gone. I heard her throwing up soon after, but the door was locked.
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Pacing the floor, I listened to heave after heave of her getting sick. I needed to be in there, holding her hair or wiping her face—anything not to be out here useless as a tit on a boar hog.
Finally, I heard the toilet flush for the last time. She came out a few minutes later looking like she was going to pass out any second.
“Let me help you to bed.”
She looked up at me with the hellfire of a thousand demons. Her eyes were squinted and angry. The tears that rolled down her face—I couldn’t tell if it was from the throwing up or whatever had her looking at me like the devil himself.
“Who told you, huh? Who was it? At least if I’m going to be betrayed and lied to, I deserve to know who ratted me out!”
I took a step back.
“Oh, now you want to back off? All night you’ve been harping on my every move and now that we are both in the clear you want to give me some space? Bullshit. Just tell me, Bridger!”
Her yelling was fierce, but her body denied the anger and the energy it took to exert it. Reaching for anything to help hold her up, she grabbed the foot rail of her bed and used it to guide her to a sitting position. I reached out to catch her, but she slapped my hand away.
“Oh, no. No more helping little Ms. Sick. I’ve handled everything myself so far Bridger. What makes you think I want your help now? Some kisses in the woods and some lame ass messages in a bottle and you think I want you as my twenty-four-hour pity nurse? Wrong!”
She paled a little more with each word. Her blatant anger stung, but it passed through me faster than I thought possible. The room grew warmer and she responded by throwing that damned hoodie on the floor beside her. Her cheeks pinked and I curtailed a smile. Pink cheeks signaled life to me.
Even if it was in rage, I knew that she still had the fight in her and that was enough.
I was wordless and defenseless against her anger. I deserved it all and more.
But at the same time, I felt an equal loss of trust. I mourned the loss of a true connection I thought we shared. Why hadn’t she told me? Trust was a two-way street and if she couldn’t trust me, then how could I trust her?
“I found out from West. But that’s not really the issue here.”
I knelt in front of her, though she jerked her hands away when I tried to hold them. My voice remained completely calm just like I wanted it to. She needed calm and collected even though my insides were nothing even close to that.
“Oh yeah? Please, Bridger, tell me what the real issue is.”
Her feisty attitude did nothing to deter my hurt.
“The real issue, Tate, is that you didn’t tell me first. You’ve lied to me for months. I fell in love with you again—hell, maybe I’ve been in love with you my whole life—and you couldn’t let me in. Have I ever given you a reason to think that I wouldn’t do anything but stand by you for whatever came our way—good or bad?”
Her defenses fell and that may have hurt more than her lies. I didn’t like any part of her to falter, not even her anger. Her gaze went to the floor. Reaching for her hands once again, she let me hold them this time, I gave her a choice. That was what she wanted to retain in all this—her right to make choices about who she told and who she didn’t.
“Now that I know and you know that I know, I’m gonna leave the choice with you. I’m going to go home and wait for you to call. If you want to be with me still, then tell me. If you don’t want me around while you finish up your treatments, then I will be there when you do want me. If you never want to see me again, then that’s fine too. Just know that I’m standing firm, loving you, one way or the other. I just need to hear it from you.”