Remember us this way, p.37
Remember Us This Way, page 37
“Ten more months, Zo. Ten more months and you’ll be at UA with me.”
She nods, and after having her in my arms for the last hour, her lips finally come down on mine, and with that single kiss, every last of my fears fade away. No matter what, at the end of the day, she has me, and I have her. And with something so fucking powerful, how could anything ever tear us apart?
41
Zoey
It’s exactly 4:38 p.m. when Mom’s phone rings on the kitchen counter. Both Mom and I freeze for a moment as our gazes collide over the kitchen sink.
It’s been a little over a week since my appointment at Dr. Sanchez’s office, and every moment since has been nothing but pure torture. I’ve been through this a million times, waiting for the results of my blood tests and bone marrow aspirations, but none of them have had me in a chokehold the way this one has.
Every time the phone rang over the past week, a piece of me died. The anticipation and anxiety have been like nothing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
The kitchen is silent apart from the sound of Mom’s phone ringing, and I watch as she glances down and sucks in a breath. “It’s Dr. Sanchez,” she murmurs, her gaze flicking back to mine.
My knees shake, and I grip the side of the counter as the pulse in my ears quickens, thumping so loudly, it’s deafening. Mom’s hand moves toward the phone, and I watch her like a hawk as my dad moves in behind me, his hand gently resting on my back for support.
Mom glances at Dad over my shoulder, and as one, we all seem to take a collective breath as Mom accepts the call and lifts the phone to her ear. “Hello,” she says, her voice shaking.
“Erica, hi. It’s Nicole,” Dr. Sanchez’s voice seems to boom through the phone, despite the call not being on speakerphone. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I can’t imagine what must have been running through your mind over this past week. However, I’ve just received Zoey’s results. I think it’s best you come down to the office tomorrow.”
“No,” I breathe, my tone barely audible.
If it was good news, she would have just said I was clear. She would have put us out of our misery. She’s a highly sought-after oncologist with many patients going through the worst kind of hell. Her time is too important. She wouldn’t be careless with it or waste an appointment like that.
“Of course, we’ll clear our schedules,” my mother says, her voice breaking as she holds Dad’s stare, both of them utterly terrified. “But with all due respect, Doctor, we’re all here right now. None of us are going to get a wink of sleep until we know. Please,” she begs. “We need to know now.”
There’s a short silence, and as Dr. Sanchez lets out a pained sigh, Mom’s unshed tears spill down her cheeks.
“Okay,” Dr. Sanchez says soothingly, prompting Mom to put the call on speakerphone. She walks around the kitchen counter, pulling me into her arms and holding on tighter than ever before. “I prefer not to give this kind of diagnosis over the phone, but considering your circumstances, I’m happy to make an allowance.”
Dr. Sanchez pauses for a second, and by the time she goes on, my whole body is violently shaking, the tears already streaking down my face. “Zoey, honey, are you there?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice breaking.
“I’m sorry, but your suspicions were correct,” she tells me, sounding just as broken as I feel. “Your blood tests and bone marrow aspiration are showing an overwhelming amount of leukemic white cells in your system.”
I suck in a shaky breath, so loud it cuts her off, and I crumble in my mother’s arms as Dad grabs my waist to keep me on my feet. “No,” I cry, the tears coming so rapidly that my vision blurs as Mom’s heartbroken whimpers sound through the kitchen. “No, I can’t do this again.”
“I’m sorry, Zoey. I know this isn’t easy news to hear,” Dr. Sanchez tells me, her soothing voice doing nothing to ease the terror blasting through my chest. “It’s fairly aggressive. However, I will need to run more tests to determine just how advanced your case is and to determine if these cancerous cells have spread and how far. From there, we’ll be able to work out a treatment plan.”
The sobs break from the back of my throat until Mom and Dad can no longer hold me up, their own grief claiming them as we crumble to the kitchen tiles together.
My face falls into my hands, the tears pooling in my palms.
Mom and Dad pull me into their arms as Dr. Sanchez continues, saying words that don’t register to my ears as her earlier words play on repeat in my head.
Your suspicions were correct.
Overwhelming amount of leukemic white cells in your system.
Fairly aggressive.
Run more tests to determine just how advanced your case is.
If these cancerous cells have spread and how far.
It hits me like a fucking train.
I have cancer.
Again.
And this time, it’s aggressive.
Mom and Dad wrap up the conversation with Dr. Sanchez from where we sit on the kitchen floor, and neither of them can form proper sentences. Then with a promise to show up tomorrow, Mom’s phone drops to the ground beside us, shattering the screen.
“Oh, Zoey,” she sobs, burying her face into the curve of my neck, her tears dropping to my collarbone as I just sit and cry, feeling broken and empty, my whole world crumbling around me. This isn’t how my senior year was supposed to go. I was supposed to make memories, go to parties, and wait with bated breath for Noah to come home to me.
But now . . .
The devastation squeezes me like a vise until I can no longer breathe, and as my parents fall apart, preparing for a war that I don’t know if I’m strong enough to win, I find myself racing out the door with keys in my hand.
I’m a mess as I peel out of the driveway, sitting in absolute silence as I push the Range Rover to its limits. The sun quickly falls from the sky, dipping low beyond the horizon as my phone goes crazy with calls and messages from Mom and Dad. But there’s only one place I want to be right now, one place I need to be to ease the overwhelming panic and fear coursing through my cancer-riddled body.
I need my home. My heart. I need him to hold me and tell me that it’s going to be okay, that I’m going to survive this, that no matter what kind of mountain we have to face, we’ll climb it together and find ourselves back over the other side with our whole lives ahead of us.
It’s after 7:30 p.m. when I pull into one of the many campus parking lots at UA, just outside the football stadium and closest to Noah’s dorm. There are people everywhere, and I quickly try to pull myself together, but it’s no use. No amount of wiping my eyes is going to mask the devastation pouring through me.
Glancing out through the windshield, I find a bunch of guys, and when I recognize one of them as Noah’s teammate, I search through the crowd a little closer, finally finding Noah among them.
They look like they’re on their way out, maybe to have dinner or a study session. All that matters is crumbling into Noah’s arms and hoping like fuck he can somehow dull the ache inside of me. To tell me that everything is going to be okay, that he’ll be right here holding my hand, and that I don’t need to be scared.
Desperation courses through my veins, and I grip the handle, pushing the door wide. As I tumble out onto the asphalt, my gaze snaps up again, seeking him out. Fresh tears stream down my face as I find him in the middle of the group of football players. They’re crossing the road, heading toward some kind of hall, and as he talks to the guy beside him, a brilliant smile stretches across his face, and I find myself pausing.
He talks animatedly, and as I watch his movements, I smile. He only ever talks this animatedly when he’s talking about me or Linc, and I realize just how much he’s opened himself up to his life here. It’s not easy for him to open up or talk about the things that matter most, and the fact that he’s able to do that with these new people speaks volumes about how far he’s come from the distraught boy he was a year ago.
His world is only just getting back on track, and that darkness that clouded him for so long has just finished clearing, but now? How can I do this to him? How can I tell him about my diagnosis and set alight the progress he’s made?
I’m going to have to tell him. It’s not something I can keep hidden from him because I want to be selfish. I have to have him by my side through all of this because I simply won’t survive it without him. But I don’t have to tell him tonight. I don’t have to blurt it out in the middle of the street around all of his new friends. There won’t be much I can control over the next few years of my life, but this . . . I can.
I’ll wait until I’ve wrapped my head around it and worked out the best way to break the news to him, but I can’t wait long. Dr. Sanchez is going to put a rush on these tests, and I’ll be back in that same old treatment center, hooked up to who knows what, receiving the most intense form of chemotherapy, and I’m going to need him right at my side. But more so, if I go through any portion of this without him, spouting the same old bullshit about trying to protect him from this, he’ll never forgive me. It will hurt him so deeply that he won’t know how to come back from it.
The thought has a whimper pulling from deep in my chest, and I find myself inching back to my car, settling into my seat, and closing the door behind me, unable to take my eyes off him.
Sooner or later, I’m going to have to break his heart, and he’s going to crumble like he’s never crumbled before. Hearing my diagnosis is going to destroy him, and despite not knowing many details about the severity of my cancer yet, I know he’s going to think the worst.
Pressing the push start button, I prepare to back out of my spot before my hands fall into my lap, and I find myself just watching him. He’s almost at the entrance of the hall, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what my life with him would have looked like next year. Only . . . I suppose I’ll be trading class rooms for clinical rooms. I still remember all the poking and prodding with needles, the intense chemotherapy that made me violently ill, but it’s so much worse now that I understand what’s truly at stake.
Noah’s group disappears into the hall, only he hangs back, pulling his phone out of his pocket, and a moment later, his name is in block letters across the dashboard of my car, the soft sound of his call ringing through Bluetooth.
He stands under the lights of the building, and I see him so perfectly, just taking him in that I almost miss the call, but I can’t bring myself to let it ring out. “Hey,” I say, forcing a smile across my face as the tears continue tracking down my cheeks.
“You good?” he asks, his whole body stiffening, reminding me of what he said in his car last week, how he’s able to tell I’m crying by nothing more than the sounds of my uneven breathing.
“I will be,” I tell him, not wanting to lie, not about this. “When do I get to see you next?”
“Babe,” he says, his tone shifting. “That was the worst subject change I’ve ever heard. It wasn’t even a little subtle.”
“Hey, I never claimed to be subtle.”
He laughs, but the sound is forced. “Zo?” he prompts.
“It’s been a rough night,” I admit. “But I’m going to be okay. I don’t want you worrying about it.”
“Right, because that’s possible.”
“Really,” I insist. “I’m on my way to Hope’s place. We’re going to have a movie night with popcorn and ice cream. Who knows, I might even find a bong hidden under her bed.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” he tells me, digging his hand deep into his pocket as he leans back against the wall of the massive building. “I let the whole joint thing slide last weekend, but that’s it. After I had to carry your ass the whole way home while you sang Taylor Swift at the top of your lungs, I’m calling it on your little experimental phase. Can’t you disappoint your parents some other way?”
I shrug my shoulders, despite knowing he can’t see. “I mean, Mom found that box of condoms in my side drawer.”
I watch as his face falls. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re fucking lying.”
“Would I lie about the practice of safe sex?”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Your father’s going to eat me alive.”
I laugh, wiping my face and realizing the steady stream of tears has finally begun to ease. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Just heading out to dinner with the team. It was supposed to be just me and a few of the guys, but Coach thinks we need to bond a little more, so it turned into a mandatory team dinner,” he explains. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he quizzes us on our knowledge of each other right in the middle of our meals.”
“In that case, maybe I need to start texting all of your most embarrassing secrets to all of your teammates.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he says as a brilliant smile crosses his face, one he reserves only for me.
“Wanna bet?”
Noah scoffs, knowing damn well that every secret we’ve ever shared is safe between us. “Hey, listen,” he says. “I have a game on Friday night here in our stadium, and I was thinking, if you don’t have too much schoolwork, you’d wanna come? Kickoff isn’t ’til seven, so you’d have plenty of time to get here after school.”
“Noah McLoveOfMyLife Ryan, why do you sound like a thirteen-year-old kid asking a girl out for the first time?”
“Just tell me you’re coming to my game.”
I laugh, a smile stretching right over my face, realizing that for the first time since leaving my place, it’s so much easier to breathe. “I’d love to.”
“Good, saves me from having to come home and drag your ass back here kicking and screaming.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I challenge.
He scoffs. “Wanna bet?” he says, mimicking my earlier comment, and damn it, I know he would. There’s nothing he loves more than having me up in the stands watching him play, and honestly, there’s nothing I love more than being there.
Someone comes out of the hall, catching Noah’s eyes and indicating for him to hurry up. “Shit. I have to go, but Zoey,” Noah mutters, not sounding very pleased about it. “You know I fucking love you, right? No matter what.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “No matter what,” I repeat. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Alright, no bongs, okay? I mean it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s more like it.” He pauses for a moment, and I watch as he pushes off the side of the building, not wanting to end the call. He takes a deep breath, and a sad smile pulls at his lips, leaving me wondering if he knows I’m holding back from him again. “Bye, Zo.”
“Bye, Noah,” I whisper, sending out a silent vow that I won’t make him wait long before finally telling him the one thing that could potentially destroy him.
42
Noah
The whistle sounds and the crowd roars as they spring to their feet after watching the most thrilling final few minutes of our game. I immediately look up at Zoey in the VIP section of the stands, her hands around her mouth as she screams out.
Fuck, she looks so happy.
There’s nothing better than having her eyes on me while I play. It’s such a fucking rush, and what’s better, I get to look forward to this for the rest of my life.
The pride shining through her beautiful eyes is enough to make me momentarily forget how distant she’s been over the past two weeks, but after driving home on Wednesday night, I trust her to come to me when she’s ready. I just hope it’s soon because I can’t handle her pushing me out.
She jumps up and down, cheering so loud that I can hear her sweet tone sailing across the frenzied crowd. And even though this isn’t a championship game, I know that this very moment will be one I treasure until my dying days.
Our coach calls us in, and after the usual post-game bullshit, we’re sent back to our lockers to get cleaned up. I rush through a shower, more than ready to get out of here and find Zoey. I hope she’s okay in this crowd. It can be daunting, especially when you’re alone and new to the area.
Knox Parker, possibly the greatest wide receiver I’ve ever met, steps in beside me as we make our way out of the stadium, both our gazes locked on Zoey across the lot. He takes in her wide, cheesy grin and the way her eyes light up like Christmas morning. “Yo, is that your girl?” he asks, his gaze eating her up like a meal.
“Sure fucking is,” I tell him, watching as she breaks into a sprint toward me. “Keep your grubby hands off.”
Knox just laughs, more than prepared to spend the rest of the night screwing with me over it. “Ohh, protective of this one,” he comments. “She’s gorgeous. There’s no telling what I could do with a girl like that.”
“Even think about it, and I’ll put you in the ground,” I tell him letting him hear the edge in my tone, that despite his teasing, I’m dead serious.
I can’t take my eyes off Zoey, my grin mirroring hers as she darts through the crowd. I pick up my pace, Knox long forgotten even though I can hear the echo of his laughter through the bodies behind me. When she finally reaches me, she throws herself right into my arms and her legs lock around my waist.
Zoey’s lips crash down on mine, kissing me deeply as her arms snake around the back of my neck, holding on to me as though she’ll never let me go, and fuck, these kinds of embraces are my favorite. When she holds me as though I’m her whole world, like she can’t breathe without me, it feels like pure ecstasy pulsing through my veins. I don’t know how I survived those three years without her. What the fuck was I thinking?
Zoey pulls back and buries her face into the curve of my neck, breathing me in as I simply hold her, hating that I can’t do this every minute of every day. “Do you have any idea how good it feels to be up in those stands, watching you play?” she asks, her fingers tangling in my hair as she pulls back to meet my stare.
“Probably about as good as it feels to be on that field knowing that you’re right there watching me.” She grins back at me, and I walk back toward her car before placing her on the hood. “What do you wanna do?” I ask. “Have you eaten? We could grab dinner and then head out to celebrate with the boys.”
