You’re not alone.
I can’t lose you.
I’m not sure how long we stood in that embrace, and I don’t remember how or when we moved to the couch, but when I look up, I’m cradled in his lap and he has a death grip on my body.
“I—I don’t want t-to die, Levi,” I hiccup, my face buried in his chest. “I’m not r-ready.”
“Shhh . . .” His strong hand is soothingly stroking up and down my back in a hypnotizing rhythm. “You’re not going anywhere, Lane. I won’t let you. I’ll hold onto you and I’ll never let go.”
“But that’s the thing—” I pull back frantically, tilting my tear-streaked face up to his. “You d-don’t know th-that. What if the s-surgery didn’t work? What if the ch-chemo doesn’t work?”
“Surgery?” His face falls and his voice is desperate. “What kind of surgery did you have, Lane?”
“Mastectomy.”
“So that means they removed the whole breast?” he clarifies. I nod and look down. “How long have you been getting chemotherapy?”
My head snaps up, my eyes pleading with him not to be mad at me. “It’s why I’m off every other Friday.” My tears start to slow but my breathing picks up pace, along with my heart as I wait for his reaction.
“This whole time . . .” He breaks eye contact and looks off to the side. “This whole time that’s where you’ve been going, and I didn’t even know. I would’ve been there with you, Laney.” His eyes find mine again. Sadness and frustration are warring for a spot on his beautiful face, and I curl myself into his chest.
“I should have told you—I know I should have told you—but I wanted you to pick me again for the right reasons.” I watch as regret, defeat, sadness, and pain flash across his face. I wait to see anger and disgust, but they never come.
“The fatigue—”
“Chemo,” I mumble.
“You’ve lost weight and you haven’t been hungry.” He isn’t asking a question. He already knows.
“And nausea—”
“Because of the chemo,” he says dryly, finishing my sentence. I nod feebly. Levi slips his arm under my legs and lifts me from his lap. With gentle ease, he places me on the couch and then stands up.
“I, uh . . .” He spares me a quick glance and then looks away. “I need a minute.” He walks out of the living room and into the kitchen. I hear the faint sound of a door opening and shutting, the noise signaling the exact moment when my heart breaks into a million little pieces.
He left me.
Bending my knees, I pull my legs to my chest, my arms clutching at them for dear life. I can’t believe this happening. I’m numb. Completely numb. Levi was the reason I was fighting. He was the one thing I wanted if I survived . . . and I just lost him.
MY HANDS CURL INTO my hair and I tug forcefully, desperately needing to feel something other than this sharp pain that is stabbing through the left side of my chest. I tilt my face up to the sky, blinking several times, but it doesn’t help because a tear still floats carelessly down the side of my face. And then another and another. I brush them away angrily, but they just keep coming. A guttural moan tears from my throat as I let the weight of her words settle inside of me.
Cancer.
Laney has cancer. My Laney has cancer.
This can’t be happening. She can’t come back to me and then be ripped out of my arms—the world wouldn’t be so cruel, would it? Anger
seeps through my veins, slowly taking over the sadness and grief that I was feeling just moments ago. Anger at God for letting this happen to such a wonderful person . . . my wonderful person. Anger at Laney for not telling me sooner so that I could be there for her, because—damn it—I want to be there for her. And anger at myself for not asking more questions. Not once did I bother to ask what she was doing on those Fridays off. I didn’t push for more answers when she was always yawning or falling asleep in the middle of a conversation. Her pale face and dark circles were unmistakable, but I was so wrapped up in our new little world that I didn’t even bother to try and figure out what was going on.
I sit on the ground, leaning against the side of my house. The bricks are still hot from the midday sun, but I don’t move because I feel numb. I’m at a loss for where to go from here. But I guess, in all honesty, there isn’t really a choice. Laney has to have this chemo. She has to fight for her life, and I’m going to be there with her every step of the way. There’s no way I’m letting her go now, and I can’t lose her. I just can’t. She deserves to have someone fight this battle with her, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks—I’m not in there with her now. She just dumped a load of information and insecurities in my lap, leaving herself open and vulnerable, and I just left her there in my living room¸ crying. I’m a fucking dick.
Pushing up from the ground, I stalk back into the house, determined to show her how much she means to me. I want her to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that her scars don’t scare me and that I want her, just the way she is.
Laney is exactly where I left her, only now she’s curled into a ball and her shoulders are bobbing as she cries into her arms. Wasting no time, I walk over to her and scoop her into my arms. Her head snaps up and I inwardly cringe at her wide eyes—fuck me, she’s shocked I actually came back.
“Levi?” Her voice is scratchy and raw. I don’t answer her because I need to show her, and if I talk right now I’ll probably lose my shit. When I don’t speak, she tucks her hands under her chin and cuddles into my chest. This is where she belongs.