Keeping Mom’s secret didn’t help anyone. Keeping mine hasn’t helped, either.”
“But how does telling anyone help if that person doesn’t want help?” I challenge and immediately regret my words. “It’ll be different with your mom.”
Sawyer winces like he’s in pain. “It could be different with you.”
My soul literally shatters.
“I love you, Veronica, and I’m not enabling anyone anymore.”
“You have never enabled me.”
“I haven’t,” he admits. “But if you ask me to keep your secret when it’s best that I don’t, I am enabling you.”
I straighten, my chin held high, like I’m a wounded animal being threatened. “Are you going to tell my dad?”
“I’ve got my own bad news I have to share with my own father,” Sawyer says.
It’s not a yes or a no, and my stomach twists. For him. For me. “Where does this leave us? With you leaving? With my dad in the dark about my tumor growing?”
“You should tell your dad. Even if you still decide not to fight the tumor, I’m telling you that secrets only hurt, not help.”
“My situation isn’t the same as yours.”
“A secret is a secret.”
Nausea races through me. “What’s going to happen between us? Are we done?”
Sawyer walks toward me. My heart beating with each of his steps. He doesn’t stop until he’s close, very close. So close that his heat envelops me.
In the moonlight, Sawyer is beautiful. Heartbreakingly so. He looks down at me. Eyes filled with love and sorrow. My heart skips when his fingers brush along my cheek. “I remember the night I saw you up here. Standing on the window ledge, staring down at me with no fear. A blond halo of curls. A stare that could strike down the strongest of men. Beauty given by a god. Like some sort of apparition there to tell me that my world would never be the same.”
“In a bad way?” I whisper as he places a hand on the curve of my waist. His touch makes it hard to think, to breathe.
“In the best way.”
I turn my head toward his touch, kiss his hand, and he pulls my body into his. We melt together. As if out of the billions of people in the world, and stars in sky, the two of us were made perfectly for one another.
“Can we just stay this way?” I whisper. “Just like this? Forever?”
“I wish we could. If we did, I’d be the happiest man.” Sawyer combs his fingers through my hair. The pull gentle and comforting.
“As far as I’m concerned,” Sawyer says in a hushed tone, as if a lullaby, “we’re not done, but the decision’s more yours than mine. I’m not going to enable you on this. You tell your dad about your tumor growing and I’m yours. I’m not saying you have to change your mind on how you handle your tumor, but I’m not doing secrets. Someone once told me loving you requires sacrifice. They’re right. I want to be with you, you want to be with me, but giving in now to be happy just for a few months isn’t enough. I want more, and I want you to want more, too.”
Sawyer’s fingers slip to my chin, he lifts my head and brushes his lips to mine.
And then as if he didn’t just absolutely crush me, hadn’t become such a needed fixture in my life, Sawyer lets me go and leaves. Feeling weak, I lean my back against the cold stone wall for support. I shake from head to toe, not from the dropping air temperature, but due to the cold welling up inside me.
“Veronica?” Miguel asks from the corner and flashes the light of his cell in my direction. “Are you okay?”
I swallow then try to nod, but fail.
“Tell me when you’re ready to head back,” he says. “I’m with you, and Sylvia’s with Sawyer now. We don’t want anyone to be alone.”
Alone. Faint footsteps from inside the hospital and I immediately turn my head to the sound. There’s a shadow and I squint as it comes closer. With every centimeter forward, the shadow solidifies and my pulse picks up speed. I know that white dress, I know that blond hair, and I jump at how Mom’s face is now that of an expressionless porcelain doll.
She shouldn’t look like that. She shouldn’t be here. She is tethered to the house. She shouldn’t be anywhere but there.
“Veronica?” Miguel steps closer. “What’s wrong?”
Miguel said he didn’t want me to be alone. For years, I haven’t been alone. Not really. Not