Don't Hold Back (Love Hurts 4)

He leads me over to his car. I get in, no questions asked. If I wasn’t in shock, suicidal, and oh-so-freezing I’d have laughed at my stupidity. Did the years of self-defence classes Mum made Calli and me take teach me nothing? I’m getting into the car of a strange guy I know nothing about, except that he likes to frequent deserted rivers at the crack of dawn.

He helps me into the passenger seat, then jogs around the front of the old jeep to the driver’s side.

“Can you tell me your name?” he asks, glancing at me as he plugs in his seat belt. He sweeps his dark, curly hair away from his eyes as he waits for me to answer.

“Erin,” I mumble.

He reaches over to the backseat and retrieves a blanket, which I take gratefully. The shivering won’t stop, and my lungs burn with every breath. I close my eyes and try to focus on my breathing.

“Should I be calling someone for you?”

I shake my head. That is the last thing my family needs. I sigh as tears sting my eyes. I turn and look out the window in an attempt to hide my swollen eyes, but I can feel him watching me. I feel like I owe him an explanation, but I don’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry. I’m okay—or at least I will be when get home,” I croak.

He frowns at me, as if he’s not convinced. “Look, I have to be honest. I’m about five seconds away from taking you to the hospital. You tried to kill yourself. How do I know if I take you home and leave you that you won’t try it again?”

“Because I’m telling you I won’t.”

“Forgive me if I don’t want to just take your word for it.”

“I’m not suicidal,” I respond testily.

He snorts and I shoot him a look, angry that I’m having to justify myself to him repeatedly.

“I just got some bad news and I panicked. Trust me, the last thing I want is to die.” If only I had a choice in the matter.

“Then I’ll take you home,” he says after a moment.

I nod, not seeing a way out of this. He revs the car to life and speeds out of the parking lot, past my little white Corolla, parked alone at the top of the lot. I’ll get Calli to drive me out tomorrow. I remember my phone, sitting on the front seat of my car. How many missed calls will I have? I smile in spite of myself. I can’t deny that my family loves me.

“You want to talk about it?”

I jump, his voice ripping me away from my thoughts.

“I found out I’m dying.” I push the words out, my voice breaking. Anxiety rips through my chest. Saying it aloud is a thousand times worse than thinking it, and it makes it more real.

“Shit,” he mutters.

I nod, a small smile on my lips. In a weird way, I find it comforting that he’s lost for words. It’s like validation that I’m not overreacting to this whole mess.

“What is it? Cancer?” He spits the word out in such a way that I wonder if it’s hurt him before.

I nod. “Brain cancer.”

“Fuck me,” he mutters. “So the whole thing back there was you deciding to help it along?”

“That was me panicking. I lost myself for a moment. I wanted to see what it was like not to fight this anymore.”

“And?”

“It felt great. And wonderful. And terrifying.” I hesitate. I don’t even know this guy, but it’s so much easier talking to a stranger about this. I could never be this honest with my family. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was just upset. Have you ever felt so angry at the world that you just think ‘fuck it’? I’ve done everything right my whole life, and this is what I get? How is that fair?”

“I get it,” he murmurs. He rubs his forehead and glances at me. “I mean, I have no clue what you’re going through, but I get what it feels like to think life hates you. The thing you have to realise is, it’s not over yet. Nobody is guaranteed a life till they’re ninety. It’s rough that you know you don’t have much time left, but that’s how we all should be living anyway, right?”

He makes a good point. How many people wake up and have no idea that they’re about to live their last day? Maybe I should be thinking of this as a blessing rather than a curse. I stifle a yawn. I’m so tired, and my vision is beginning to blur—a sure fire sign that it’s probably not going to be a good day. I rub my aching head and close my eyes.

“Where do you live?” he asks.