Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
She was a good friend to me when I needed it most, so what kind of person would I be if I cut and ran when it got hard? I owe her an explanation, and then I suppose from there, she can be the one to decide if she’s down for this. It’s not like I’m asking her to be here twenty-four-seven or to be my support system. I just need a friend who’ll make me smile when this gets hard.
Already knowing my answer, I quickly hash out a response and hit send before I give myself a chance to change my mind.
Zoey: Can you meet me this afternoon? I’ll tell you everything.
Hope: Well that was vague…
Hope: But I suppose so. Your place?
Zoey: No, actually. The cancer treatment center.
I send her a link with the address, and the second I hit send, my hands start to shake.
Hope: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???? Why am I meeting you in a cancer treatment center? Has this got something to do with when you had cancer as a kid? Cause like…fuuuuuuuck!
Zoey: Will you come?
Hope: Yeah. Be there in an hour.
The next hour passes in a blur of emotions: fear, nervousness, anxiety, and the overwhelming need to constantly pee. Why is it that whenever I’m nervous, I suddenly need to pee all the time? It’s ridiculous.
Nurse Kelly makes her way around my room, oohing and ahhing with Hazel over the way she’s decorating my room before going over my vitals and making sure I’m doing okay. “How are you feeling this afternoon?” she asks, jotting something down on my chart.
“Just tired,” I tell her, no difference from the other million times she’s asked over the past few days.
“That’s to be expected,” she tells me. “Try and get lots of rest though. You’re scheduled for your next dose on Monday morning.”
I groan. I knew it was coming, yet knowing I have to go through all of that again makes my stomach churn. But I’m not going to lie, spending those last few hours immersed in Noah’s old phone and my laptop really helped. It’s all I’ve done over the past few days. Mom had to force me to open a textbook or two just to keep me on top of my schoolwork, but the second I’m done, I’m back to my laptop, writing down every little thing I remember, documenting our story—the good, the bad, and the ugly.
“Where’s that broody boyfriend of yours this afternoon?” she questions as Hazel smothers a laugh at Kelly’s perfect description of Noah. “He’s usually scaring off the nurses by now, isn’t he?”
I laugh as I adjust myself in bed, lowering the screen of my laptop, not liking when others can see what I’m working on. “Usually,” I tell her. “But he has a big game tonight. He needs to be there, but I’m sure he’ll force his way through the doors after visiting hours tonight or early in the morning.”
“You know what?” Kelly says as she prepares to draw more blood. “I’ve been doing this job for a while, and I’ve never quite met a family member or partner quite as persistent as your Noah. It’s impressive and kinda terrifying at the same time.”
Hazel laughs. “You should have been there when my dad tried to tell him he couldn’t have a sleepover the day after he found out her leukemia was back. It was crazy. I think Dad even shook a little.”
I bury my face in my hands, hiding the wicked smirk across my face. I shouldn’t be so fond of that particular moment, but seeing the way Noah goes above and beyond for me will always make me melt. Even if it means turning that temper of his on my father.
“I can only imagine,” Kelly says just as a knock sounds at the door.
My head whips around to find Hope hovering in my doorway, her arms filled to the brim with grocery bags. She takes one look at me then takes in the needle currently sticking out of my arm, the machines, and the room filled with flowers and get-well-soon cards made by the other kids on the ward who wanted to make me feel welcome.
I expect her to yell at me, scream or cry, but she just gapes and holds up the grocery bags. “I bought snacks.”
Hope stumbles into my room, dumping the bags on the end of the bed before climbing right up and crossing her legs so we sit face to face. Then before she says a word, she starts unpacking the snacks and hands me a full tub of ice cream and a spoon before her eyes go wide. She pulls it back again. “Wait. Are you allowed this?”
“Yes,” I laugh, snatching the ice cream right back. “But don’t be surprised if I throw it right back up.”