Mark My Words - Amber Garza

MARK MY WORDS AMBER GARZA

Cover: Alivia @ White Rabbit Designs Copyright © 2016 Amber Garza All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. For information: ambergarza.com

To Lisa, the bravest woman I know. Don’t ever stop fighting.

TABLE OF CONTENTS PROLOGUE 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 EPILOGUE AUTHOR’S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PROLOGUE I’m an author. Writing is how I heal. It’s how I process things. It’s how I cope. So, of course, it makes sense that I would write about her. She hurt me. Destroyed me. Broke my heart. The last thing I want to do is relive any of it, but it’s the only way I know to get through this. To thwart the pain. It will be hard, but I have no choice. I have to write about Lennie. Lennie. Weird name for a girl,

huh? The first time my mom saw me scrawling her name all over my notebook freshman year of high school, she thought for sure I was gay. Being the open-minded woman she is, she made it clear that it was all right with her. And I know she was serious, but I assured her that Lennie was most definitely a girl. I was certain since I’d been checking out her curves for weeks. Her full name was Lennox Samson, but she went by Lennie. It fit her perfectly since she was not only girly, but also a little bit tomboyish. Lennie was the one that got

away. The girl I watched from afar. Stole glances at from behind my textbook. She filled my fantasies, made appearances in my dreams. But I knew she’d never be mine. She was pretty, popular, confident. I was awkward, shy, bookish. The few times I tried to strike up a conversation it didn’t go well. My words were jumbled, my hand gestures manic. It was like I’d lost the ability to behave normally in her presence. So I gave up on the notion of us being together.

I let her go. But I never forgot her. We went our separate ways after high school, but I thought of her often. And then years later she re-entered my life, appearing out of nowhere, as if I’d conjured her up with all my wishful thinking. She was different than she’d been when we were teenagers. The years had changed her. And they’d changed me too. I was bolder, more self-assured, and I was determined not to let her go a

second time. So I didn’t. The girl that I thought I could never have, became mine. I loved her with all I had. I gave her everything. But it wasn’t enough. I still lost her. She’d warned me so many times. Made it clear that she wouldn’t stay, but I refused to listen. I foolishly believed that I could change things. That my love would tether us. But I was wrong. In the end, she left me. Now all that remains are these

words, these memories. Our story.

1 The page was blank. It was always blank. Day after day I sat in this coffee shop, staring at the screen on my laptop, wondering why the words wouldn’t come. I’d dreamt of being a writer since I was a kid, and I pictured it much like this. Hanging out in a coffee shop, hunched over my laptop. The only difference was that in my fantasies I actually wrote something. I never thought it would be so

difficult. Ideas were constantly swirling in my head. And I definitely had the determination. But I was missing something. At the time I didn’t know what it was, but it became clear the minute she walked through the glass doors. Even though I hadn’t seen her in years, recognition was instant. It’s impossible to forget your high school crush. She looked the same, yet vastly different. I suppose that’s what age does. I wondered if I had changed that much. It’s hard to know. When I looked in the

mirror I saw the same old Colin. The guy I’d always been. Same wavy brown hair, same dark eyes, same bushy brows, same strong nose and jaw. Then again I saw myself every day. Therefore, I wasn’t the best judge. As she walked past me in the same clipped strides I remembered from when we were teenagers, I slicked down my hair with the palm of my hand. I hadn’t fixed it this morning, so it was no doubt an unruly mess. At the time I didn’t see the point. Winter in San Francisco wasn’t kind to my hair. Even

if I did fix it the wind and rain would ruin it in seconds. Still, I wished I had attempted to look nice today. But who knew I’d run into her. I never expected to see her again. Last I’d heard she moved far from the city. Somewhere with sandy beaches and sunshine. And I wasn’t surprised. It suited her. With her tanned skin and blond hair she always looked like she belonged somewhere warm. The city had been my home since birth, and I had no desire to leave it. The cold didn’t bother me. I found comfort in

the cloudy skies, the salty scent of the sea and the sound of leaves skittering in the breeze. Straightening my spine, I watched as she ordered her coffee. Her voice was the same, her mannerisms exactly as I remembered. She strummed the counter with her fingertips while waiting for her receipt, and it caused a flood of memories to wash over me. We sat next to each other for a couple of months in English class senior year, and she always did that when bored. Today she wore a black pea coat, jeans and

knee high boots. On her head was a knit beanie. A thick, bulky scarf was tied around her neck. I glanced outside at the rain that splattered the windows, and I listened to the wind as it scraped the glass, emitting an animalistic sound. “Lennie!” From behind the counter, her name was called out. I flinched. Even though I’d been sitting here for hours that’s the first name that had registered. I suppose the barista’s voice had become white noise. Until now. She’d always had the ability to

capture my attention. She slid around a couple who also waited for their coffees. When she got to the counter, she reached for her coffee and snatched it up. After a polite “thank you,” her gaze shot to the door. Desperation bloomed inside of me. I couldn’t let her leave. Who knew when I’d see her again. This may have been my only my chance. As she neared the door, I shoved away from my small circular table. Moving too quickly, my hip bumped the side. My half-drunk cup of coffee teetered on top, almost falling

over. Reaching out, I steadied it. Lennie’s palm splayed against the door, rain kissing the pads of her fingers through the glass. “Lennie?” I said, my voice shaky and unsure. Clearing my throat, I stood taller. I was a man now. Not the same young boy I was when I last saw her. There was no reason to revert back to that scared teenager. Her hand fell from the glass, and she slowly pivoted. When her gaze met mine, it was obvious she had no idea who I was. A part of me felt slighted, but

mostly I was relieved. She probably remembered me as a nerd. A bumbling idiot. The fact that she couldn’t immediately pinpoint who I was boded well for me. Stepping away from the table, I shoved my fingers into the pocket of my jeans the way I imagined some cool guy would do. But my pockets were too tight, and it hurt. So I yanked my fingers out, my face warming. “I thought that was you,” I said in a nonchalant way, as if I hadn’t pegged her the moment she walked in. As if I hadn’t been staring at her the entire time,

waiting to strike. “We went to high school together.” She furrowed her brows, her eyes narrowing as if trying to place me. The couple that ordered after her maneuvered around us. When they headed outside, cold air whisked over us. Lennie shivered. I was grateful when the door slammed behind them, trapping in the heat. “Colin Wilde.” Yeah, that’s right. My last name is Wilde. The quiet guy. The one with his nose perpetually pressed in a book. And I had the

unfortunate luck of being named Wilde. The kids had a lot of fun with that when I was younger. I even went through a phase early in my teen years where I tried to live up to my name, mainly so I could stand up to the bullies. The problem was, that I wasn’t a risk taker. I wasn’t wild. “Right.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you look so different.” “So do you.” I wasn’t sure why I said it. She didn’t look that different, but it felt like the right thing to say. “Oh. Thanks.” Her hands moved

up to her beanie, and she tugged on it. Then she nervously adjusted her scarf. My words had clearly agitated her, and I wished I could take them back. Wished I could tell her that she looked like she had in high school. That she hadn’t aged a day. In fact, now that I thought about it, I guess a girl like Lennie would’ve taken that as a compliment. While I wanted nothing more than to become someone completely different after high school, she probably wanted to stay the same. “I mean, you don’t look that

different. Just older.” Seriously, why did I say that? “Not that much older, just, you know. Well, we are older.” For the love of god, please stop talking. “You look good.” There. That’s enough. Now zip it. A ghost of a smile played on her lips. In high school she wore a lot of makeup. Pink shimmering lipstick, black rimmed eyes. But today her face was clean. Her lips were shiny and her eyes had some type of color on the lids, but it was hardly noticeable. Honestly, I thought she looked better than before. I

never thought she needed all that makeup anyway. Her hair was hidden under her beanie, but I caught blond wisps around her neck, so I surmised that it looked the same as I recalled. “Thanks.” Bringing the paper cup to her mouth, she took a small sip. “It was nice seeing you again, Colin.” “I’m working on that romance novel!” I blurted out as she prepared to walk out of my life once again. “What?” She froze, eyeing me. “The romance novel. The one you wrote about in my yearbook.” Man, I

really did sound like a lunatic bringing that up all these years later. It probably meant nothing to her. Something she robotically scribbled in my yearbook. I can’t wait to one day read your romance novel. But it meant something to me. Those words became my life’s mission. I took them as prophecy. I’d been working hard to make them come true. To conjure them from the page, and breathe them into reality. After a second of silence, her eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. I do remember

that now. You said you wanted to be a romance author like Nicholas Sparks.” “If memory serves me right, he was your favorite.” “Still is.” She smiled, her gaze flickering to my laptop. “So you really did it? Became an author?” I shifted from one foot to the other, instantly regretting this conversation. “Not yet.” “But you’re working on it?” I nodded. “That’s awesome.” She bit her lip. “It’s nice to know that one of us is

pursuing our dreams.” “You’re not writing?” The day that I told her I wanted to be a romance author, she confessed that she also wanted to write for a living. She shook her head, and in her eyes I saw all of the things she wasn’t saying. When we were younger, her eyes were always bright and innocent. It was one of the things I liked about her. She exuded happiness and joy. It radiated off of her like rays of sunshine on a cool day. That’s probably why everyone wanted to be close to her. But she’d lost

that. Now her eyes were filled with darkness, storm clouds, raging seas. I couldn’t let her leave until I knew why. “Come sit down for a minute.” Stepping backward, I motioned her toward my table. “Finish your coffee inside where it’s warm.” “Oh, I don’t know.” Conflicted, she peered toward the door. As if on cue, a gust of wind kicked up, roaring through the air outside. Liquid splattered the windows. “It’s raining too hard to go out there right now,” I pointed out.

She involuntarily shuddered. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” My heart picked up speed when she stepped toward my table. I plopped down into my seat, my screensaver visible. Thank god my blank document wasn’t up to mock me. Lennie sank down into the chair across from me, setting her coffee cup on the slick table. Behind me, mugs clinked together, a blender went off. Chatter swirled around us. “What is your novel about?” She asked, silencing the noise. “You know,

besides love.” The way she held out the word “love” reminded me of the girl she used to be. Always teasing and acting silly. I racked my brain for something clever to say, but in the end I shrugged and told the truth. “I’m not sure. I just started it, actually.” No sense telling her that I’d been trying to start it for months now. What I did share was embarrassing enough. “You’ll figure it out.” Picking up her cup, she took a sip. No longer wanting to continue

down this path, I changed the subject. “Are you living in the city again?” She nodded, her fingers playing with the lid on her cup. “Got tired of the beach, huh?” I teased. Her head snapped up. “What?” “Um…I just heard that you moved somewhere sunny, somewhere near the beach. Maybe that was wrong.” “No.” She shook her head. “I mean, technically I guess I moved close to the beach. I was in Southern California. But I rarely went to the

beach.” “Still, I bet the weather was nice there.” “Yeah, it was.” She pressed her lips together. “But it wasn’t home.” I sat forward, propping my elbows up on the table. It felt like there was more weight in the silence than in her answers. I found myself listening more to what she wasn’t saying rather than what she was. “Are you working here?” “Not right now. I’ve got some things in the works though.” She rubbed

the back of her neck. “In fact, I better get going. I’m on my way to an appointment.” Her gaze traveled to the window. “Perfect timing too. The storm let up a little.” It was too soon. I wasn’t ready to say good-bye. “Hey, can I get your number? Maybe we can go out sometime.” I looked down at my coffee mug. “But not for coffee. Maybe we’ll try food next time.” She hesitated, searching my face. “Um…no. I can’t. I’m sorry.” Grabbing her coffee cup off the table, she clutched

it to her chest as she stood. “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re probably married or something.” Panicked, I scanned her left hand. No ring. The panic subsided a little. “No. I’m not married.” She shook her head, yanking her sleeve down to her wrist. But not before I saw little red bumps lining her arm. It almost appeared to be a rash, but I couldn’t be sure, and I wondered if the lighting was playing tricks on my eyes. “Boyfriend, then?” “Not anymore.” She sighed. “I

was engaged. In Southern California. But that ended.” Shrugging, she forced a smile. “That’s sorta why I’m back.” Her sadness made a little more sense now. “I’m sorry.” “Me too,” she said with a resigned nod. “And I’m just not ready to date again.” “Yeah. I understand,” I responded. “But it wouldn’t have to be a date. It could just be two old friends getting together. Catching up.” “Isn’t that what we just did?” She had me there. “I guess we

did.” “It really was good to see you, Colin.” She backed away from the table. “You too, Lennie.” I lifted my hand in a wave as she slipped out the front door of the coffee shop and hurried down the street. Watching her disappear around the corner, I assumed it would be the last time I saw her. Knowing what I know now, a part of me wishes it had been.

2 My apartment was the quintessential bachelor pad. A studio with minimal furniture. My flat screen TV was the only nice thing I owned. The couch and dining table were hand-me-downs from my parents. My bed was a mattress and box spring that hugged the wall in the corner. No matter how many times my mom was on me about buying a bedframe I couldn’t bring myself to shell out the money. I was the definition of a

struggling writer. Pretty sure if you looked up that phrase, a picture of me would appear. Then again, I suppose it could’ve been worse. It wasn’t like I was starving. I sold enough freelance pieces to pay my bills, and I ate on a pretty consistent basis. Fortunately, whenever I ran out of money my parents helped out. It’s embarrassing to admit that in my mid-twenties I was still relying on my parents. But I didn’t have a choice. Up until a few months ago, I had a part-time job at a local record store.

But the store closed down, and it was actually my mom who encouraged me to take some time to pursue my dream of writing. As an English major, there was a lot I could’ve done career-wise. At least in theory. I could’ve taught, but that would’ve required public speaking, and at the mere thought, my hands broke out in a sweat and my tongue swelled to astronomical proportions. I could write for a newspaper or magazine, but those jobs were hard to nab. Trust me, I’d been trying. However, I knew that I couldn’t

go on like this indefinitely. If I didn’t get this book written and sold soon, I would have no other choice but to hit the pavement again. The thought didn’t appeal to me, but neither did living like this forever. Either way, something would have to change soon. Running into Lennie brought that home further. It reminded me of all that was missing in my life. It reminded me of how lonely I was. Even though I didn’t really know Lennie, I’d always felt a connection with her. Maybe it was stupid. Perhaps it was

nothing more than a childhood fantasy. Something I need to get out of my system. But I suspected it was more than that. Not that I’d ever have the chance to find out. When we ran into each other earlier today, it was clear that she wasn’t interested in seeing me again. Not as a date, or even as a friend. I believed her story about the ex-fiance, but I doubted that was the only reason she turned me down. Plunking down on my soft,

spring-less couch, I rested my head against the cushions. Blowing out a breath, I stared up at the ceiling. Listening to my upstairs neighbor stomping around, I closed my eyes. In my mind, I replayed Lennie and my conversation in the coffee shop. Only I imagined it going differently. I imagined her differently. Not the sad, broken Lennie I ran into today. But the old Lennie. The bubbly, carefree, innocent Lennie I remembered from high school. And I imagined our conversation

going a little more like this: “Lennie?” I stood from the table, stepping toward her. She whirled around, a question in her expression. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” “We went to high school together,” I explained, pressing a palm to my chest. “Colin Wilde.” A smile leapt to her face, her brows raising. “Oh, right. Colin. I remember you.” She lightly touched my arm. “How have you been?” I shivered from her gentle touch.

“Good. You?” “Great.” Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks bright. “You look great,” I complimented her. “So do you.” Her smile deepened, causing my heart to flip in my chest. Then her gaze shifted to my laptop. “Tell me, Colin. Did you ever write that romance novel?” “I’m working on it,” I told her. “Really? I’d love to hear about it.” A couple came toward us, and Lennie moved out of their way to let

them pass. Her hand fell to the extra chair at my table. “Mind if I sit down with you for a minute? It’s too wet and rainy to go out just yet.” “Of course.” I motioned for her to sit. Once she did, I dropped into my chair. After setting her coffee down on the table, she leaned forward, rubbing her palms together. “Don’t keep me in suspense. I want to hear all about your book.” “It’s still in the early stages,” I said. “So there’s not much to tell.”

“Really? That’s all I get?” Giggling, she reached up and yanked the beanie off her head. Then she shook out her blond hair until it spilled in loose waves down her shoulders. I swallowed hard. “For now. But pretty soon I’ll have more to share,” I promised. “Is that your way of asking to see me again?” “Is that your way of accepting?” I bantered back. She shrugged, her face growing serious. “Honestly, I don’t know if I

should. I mean, I just got out of a serious relationship. Actually, I’m back in the city because I broke off my engagement.” Shaking her head, she pursed her lips. “Guy was a total jerk.” “Then today’s your lucky day, because I can promise I’m not a total jerk.” I grinned. “I know.” She stared into my eyes. “We may not have exactly been friends in high school, but I remember you fondly. You were always a nice guy.” “So does that mean you’ll let me

take you to dinner some time?” I pressed. She hesitated, but only momentarily. “Yeah. That actually sounds nice.” Coming out of my daydream I blinked, the room coming back into focus. Picking my head up off the cushions, my pulse quickened. That’s it. The thing I’d been waiting for. Scrambling off the couch, I raced toward my laptop which sat closed on my kitchen table. After lifting the lid, I pressed it on and plugged it into the

nearest outlet. The screen roared to life. Sliding into one of the wooden chairs, it creaked beneath my weight. I pulled up my document and started to type. Before I knew it, I had the first chapter written. Months of nothing, and now after seeing Lennie one time I was able to write whole pages. I didn’t know if we would ever cross paths again, but I was grateful to have found my muse.

3 It had been almost a month since I’d seen Lennie, but the impression that one conversation left was still with me. I’d written almost half of my novel. The words poured from my fingers day after day. I needed only to think of her, and inspiration would hit. Sitting in the same coffee shop I’d been in the day we reconnected, I pounded out a few scenes in between cups of coffee. I preferred writing here as

opposed to home. That’s not to say that I never worked in my apartment. I had been known to burn the midnight oil. But here was where I got the most done. Funny how the silence at home seemed to stunt my creativity, whereas the noise here spurred it on. You would think it would be the opposite. Bending over my keyboard, my fingertips flew over the keys to the soundtrack of people’s voices, dishes clanging, and the whir of the espresso maker. The scent of freshly ground beans filled the air, mixing with other smells

like perfume, cologne, and sweet baked goods. It sure beat the musty smell of my studio apartment. As I neared the end of the scene, the door opened, the bell tinkling. It was cold today. Not raining, but bitterly cold. I actually wished for rain when it got this frigid. When the air hit me, I shuddered, but didn’t stop working. I was at a good part; a pivotal moment, and nothing would interrupt my flow. “Looks like you figured out what your book was about.” I froze at the sound of her voice, my hands suspended

over the keyboard. Well, nothing except for her. For one second I thought I’d finally gone mad. As if my desire for Lennie had caused me to imagine her. Slowly, I looked up. At the sight of her standing over me, I exhaled with relief, grateful that she was real and not a figment of my imagination. It was odd to see the flesh and bone version of her when the imaginary version had been with me for weeks. Shaking my head, I forced myself to decipher the difference between the two.

“Uh…yeah. I have,” I finally answered. Then before she could see what I’d written, I swiftly closed the lid on my laptop. “Top secret, huh?” She eyed my arm which held the lid down as if it was a guard standing watch. I felt stupid. “Well, you know, it’s still in rough draft form.” “I get it.” She nodded. Today she wore almost the same outfit as last time, down to the beanie and scarf. But she seemed different, happier, I guess. Perhaps she’d resolved some of the

issues that weighted her down before. My stomach knotted at the thought, realizing that they may have to do with the ex. Maybe they’d gotten back together or something. That would explain why she’s being so friendly this time. She wouldn’t have to worry about me hitting on her if she’s taken. I’d noticed that in other social situations too. The women that were taken were usually the nicest. It was the ones who were available who often had a chip on their shoulder toward me. It was confusing, and it was one of the reasons

I took myself out of the dating scene. The last thing I wanted was to play games or try to decipher what women were thinking. It was impossible anyway. So why even attempt it? I’d never liked losing, and this didn’t seem like an area I could win. “You got another appointment today?” I asked. A look of surprise painted her features. “How’d you know?” “It’s the reason you came in last time,” I reminded her. “Because you were on your way to an appointment.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “Well, yeah, I am on my way to an appointment, actually.” Her gaze flickered to the coffee counter. “Just gathering some liquid courage first.” “I doubt you need courage. I’m sure you’ll knock ‘em dead.” She frowned. “I don’t know about that.” I paused, searching her face. “I take it the last appointment didn’t go well?” “Not so much.” She shook her head.

“I’m sorry.” I sat back in my chair. “But I’m sure this one will go better.” “I hope so.” She sighed, her gaze dropping to the table. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. I better let you get back to it.” A few minutes earlier, I’d wanted nothing more than to be left alone with my book. But now the thought of her leaving filled me with dread. What if she never came into the coffee shop again? The chances of running into her somewhere else were pretty slim.

I’d let her go not once, but two times prior to this. I didn’t want to do it again. “It’s okay,” I assured her. “I needed a break.” Throwing my arms out in the air I stretched. “These hands were getting tired. You’re doing me a favor. Trust me.” I winked. “In fact, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you a coffee.” “Oh, no. That’s okay.” I stood. “I insist.” Reaching out, my fingertips brushed her shoulder as I gently guided her toward a chair. “If you don’t tell me what you want, I’ll have to guess.”

“Vanilla latte,” she said, sinking into the chair with a resigned huff. With a sense of satisfaction, I sauntered over to the register. After ordering a vanilla latte, I headed to the counter. Leaning against the wall, my gaze rested on Lennie sitting at my table. She was zoning out, her gaze looking everywhere, yet nowhere. It was apparent by the glaze in her eyes, by the faraway expression. I wondered what demons tormented her. I wondered what went on in her mind. As I watched her, it became even clearer how different flesh

and bone Lennie was from imaginary Lennie. It made me sad. If only I could bring out that other side of her. The one she’d obviously abandoned along the way. “Colin!” I jerked when my name was called. “Thank you,” I said, as I picked up the coffee. When I reached my table, I handed the latte to Lennie. “Here you are, my lady.” It was corny. The kind of thing a dork would say. But that’s what I was. A book nerd. No sense denying it. And actually I was glad I said it since it

elicited a tiny smile from Lennie. “Thanks,” she practically whispered before taking a sip of her coffee. A ring of lipgloss stained the lid when she pulled it back from her mouth. “What kind of job are you interviewing for?” I asked after sitting down again. “Oh, nothing special.” She shrugged, her lips tugging downward. “A job’s a job, right?” “You’re the lucky one. You get to do what you love.” Shame washed over me. I never should’ve given her the

impression that I had made a career out of writing. I was nothing more than a wannabee. Opening my mouth, I was about to tell her the truth, but she spoke first. “So does this book of yours have a happy ending?” Wrinkling my nose, I pondered her words. “I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought through the ending yet.” I paused for a moment. “What do you prefer in books you read?” “Happy endings for sure.” Her head bobbed up and down. “Real life is so full of disappointments already. So

why read something sad?” Mulling over her words, I rubbed my chin with my thumb and forefinger. She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t agree, do you?” “Honestly, I don’t agree or disagree. I see your side, but as a reader, I don’t always like when a book wraps up neatly at the end. It’s not realistic.” “Do books have to be realistic?” Her free hand flitted up to her neck, playing with the edges of her scarf. “I mean, they are fiction. They’re not

supposed to be real.” “True, but I think the more realistic the book is, the more believable it is to the reader.” “I guess I’m not looking for believability necessarily when I read. I’m looking for an escape.” She pinned me with a stare. “Because let’s face it, how believable is any romance you’ve ever read? I mean, come on, no guy is that sweet or that head over heels in love with some girl. Guys aren’t over-the-top romantic, they don’t always say or do the right thing. None of it is real. It’s all

a fantasy.” Her words made my heart sink. It’s not that they weren’t true. She was right. The guys in romance novels were practically perfect, and as a species, we definitely were not. But the fact that she was so jaded about love saddened me. When we were younger, I’d foolishly assumed I knew her. I thought she lived a charmed life and would most likely have a charmed future. But I guess looks can be deceiving. We never really know what another person is going through. “I’ll prove you wrong,” I said,

and her gaze snapped to mine. “With my book. I’ll show you that a romance novel can be realistic.” “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” A light chuckle escaped through her lips. “Why not?” “Do you think any woman will want to read a realistic romance?” “I don’t know.” My shoulders lifted and fell. “I guess we’ll see.” “You’re a brave man, Colin.” I smiled, thinking of my last name and my failed attempt to live up to

it. “I don’t know if I’d call it bravery. Maybe it’s stupidity.” “Or maybe it’s genius,” she said. “Sometimes thinking outside of the box works out really well for people.” After taking another sip of her coffee, she shifted in her chair. “Did you ever read those books where you choose your own ending?” “Oh, yeah.” My lips curled upward, the memory surfacing. “I think I read those in middle school.” “That’s about the age I was too, I think.” A wistful expression passed over

her face. “Did you stick to picking one ending or did you read them all?” “I stuck with the first one I picked.” “Really?” Her eyebrows jumped up. “Not me. I read them all. I was too curious to only read one.” “I guess I felt like reading all of them would defeat the purpose.” “I liked those books. I liked the idea of having lots of different options. Knowing the ending could go so many different ways.” Lennie bit her lip, gloss coating the edges of her white teeth. “If

only life were that way, huh?” “I think that’s exactly how life is, actually. We have so many different paths we can choose.” “Sometimes,” she said, darkness tainting her tone. “But sometimes the path has already been chosen for you.”

4 Lennie’s words plagued me day and night. “Sometimes the path has already been chosen for you.” I wanted to know what that meant. Immediately after the haunting statement had been spoken, I pressed her about it. But she’d clammed up the exact same way she had in our first conversation, and before I knew it, she’d vanished again. Slipped out of my life a

third time. A part of me felt that she’d be back. Our conversation had been easy, comfortable. And she appeared to enjoy it. I know for a fact that it was the most riveting conversation I’d had with a woman in years. Most of the women I interacted with didn’t enjoy talking about reading and books, and when they did, it wasn’t deep or insightful. Not like it had been with Lennie. It’s funny, but I never pegged Lennie Samson as a girl who had much substance when we were younger. She

hung with the jocks and cheerleaders, and I assumed her biggest quandary was what to wear or how to apply her makeup. And maybe that was true of the younger Lennie. But this Lennie had much larger problems. Even if she didn’t voice them, it was evident. They hung in the air around her, invisible and unspoken, but there nonetheless. I wanted to help her, but I didn’t know how. She still hadn’t offered up her phone number or any information that would help me track her down. My only

hope was that she’d show up at the coffee shop again. Just in case, I went there every morning and stayed until late afternoon. Some days I wrote. Other days I sat there, waiting. Hoping. Praying. I knew it made me seem like a stalker, but I didn’t care. I had to see her again. When days turned into a week and she still hadn’t shown up, I realized there were other ways to find her. It was the age of technology, after all. Surely, she’d left a footprint on the web. I’d

never been big on social media. Probably because I didn’t think people cared what I did. I couldn’t see myself posting hourly or even daily updates. The few times I’d tried to join Facebook or Instagram, I was annoyed with people’s posts and pictures. Having my morning coffee. Out to lunch with my bestie. I mean, who the hell cared? When did our daily activities become breaking news? But honestly, the worst was all the bragging. It seemed that everyone on social media lived perfect

lives. Of course there were the few exceptions. Those who used social media as a platform to air all their dirty laundry or pitch their political agendas. All in all, I didn’t have the patience or stomach for it. But today I found myself logging onto Facebook for the first time in years. It took several tries to remember my username and password, but finally I got it. Once I was in, I went to the search bar and typed in Lennie Samson. When she didn’t come up, I tried her full name. Lennox Samson. And there she was,

staring back at me, wearing a broad smile. My heart skipped a beat. With slick fingertips, I clicked on her name. Her page came up, revealing colorful pictures, an array of memes and posts. However, the last time she posted was a little over a year ago, and there’d been no activity since. Scanning down the page, I perused her pictures. In all of them she was smiling and happy, the Lennie I remembered from high school. The one who hadn’t a care in the world. Many of the pictures featured a guy. The

one I assumed was her fiancée. Jealousy snaked around my heart and squeezed hard as I took in all of the intimate photos. Pictures of them hugging, kissing, his arm slung over her shoulder in an easy way, as if it belonged there. Which I suppose it did. The sad look on her face when Lennie mentioned the break-up of her engagement filled my mind, and my jealousy seemed petty. She wasn’t even with him anymore. Besides, it’s not like I had any claim to her. I never had. A few conversations didn’t make her mine.

I’d had these same feelings back in high school. Lennie always had a boyfriend. I can’t think of a time when she didn’t. Her relationships never lasted long. A few months here, a few months there. But the times in between boyfriends were short. Too short for me to make a move. Other guys moved quicker, but I was so shy that a simple word or two took me weeks to formulate. By the time I got around to talking to Lennie, she’d already have been snatched up. As I made my way further down

the page, I found pictures of Lennie with her high school girlfriends. Some were throwback photos from when we were teenagers, but others were more current. My insides soured at the sight of the girls who had snubbed me in high school. That was what I liked about Lennie. She may have been popular, but it didn’t stop her from being a decent human being. She was friendly to everyone, and I never heard her gossiping or teasing anyone. In fact, a couple of times I overheard her

chastising her friends for doing that. I could always count on Lennie for a smile or wave, a kind word spoken in passing. Initially I crushed on Lennie because she was gorgeous. I mean, every guy had a thing for Lennie at some point in our four years of high school. But the reason I kept liking her was because of her genuineness. Her Facebook page listed Southern California as her place of residence, and her relationship status was engaged. Clearly, she hadn’t updated it recently. Realizing I would

learn nothing from snooping on here, I logged off. Next I tried Instagram, but I came up with the same results. What had happened a year ago that caused her to hide from social media? Did it have to do with her ex? I swear if he’d hurt her, I’d make him pay. Well, at least I’d think about making him pay. Based on the pictures, I was pretty sure he could take me. Perhaps, I could write him into my book. Have something horrible happen to him. At the thought, my lips curled upward at the corners.

Man, I really was lame. No wonder Lennie kept turning me down. Glancing up at the clock, my heart sank. Crap. I was late for dinner with my parents. My stepdad, Ray, was always in a sour mood, but he got even worse when dinner was delayed. Groaning, I stood and hurried toward the front door, already dreading having to see my stepdad. Mom would be nice as always. Nothing rattled her. She stayed calm no matter what. Ray was always grumbling about something, but Mom

consistently had a sweet disposition. That’s why it was so scary when Mom would get angry. My sister and I used to say that we knew we were in big trouble if Mom lost her cool. That was not a pretty picture. But thankfully, it was rare. Shoving back my chair, it scraped on the ground. After standing up, I hurried out the front door. As I made my way down the cement walkway, chilly air blew over my skin causing goosebumps to rise on my flesh. In no time I had arrived at my parents’ front door. They still lived in

the same house I’d grown up in. Every time I stepped inside, I felt like I was a kid again. It didn’t help that they hadn’t changed anything. The decorations and furniture had been the same for years. Mom only switched out things out of necessity, like the furniture in mine and my sister’s rooms, or the blinds that broke in the front windows. The heater was on full blast when I entered the house. At first it felt nice, and I was grateful for the warmth. But I knew that it was only a matter of time before it got to be too much. I could

already predict the places that sweat would be forming momentarily. “About time,” Ray said when Mom ushered me into the dining room. “Nice to see you too.” I clamped a hand down on his shoulder before sliding around him and plunking down in my chair. That was the other thing that hadn’t changed. Our seating at the dining table. If Amelia was here she’d be sitting across from me right now. But my sister lived in North Carolina with her husband and baby. Mom and Ray had

visited her a few times. I’d never been, but I saw her when she was here last Christmas. We’d never been especially close. I mean, we got along okay, but we’d never truly understood each other. Mostly what I remember about Amelia was how she spent all her time texting friends or watching YouTube videos. She was a few years younger than me, but she never looked up to me the way some of my friends’ younger siblings did. Amelia wasn’t impressed with normal people like me. She only cared about celebrities. And I used the

word “celebrity” loosely. To Amelia, celebrities might be well-known recording artists, or they could be her current favorite YouTuber. Either way, an older brother who spent all his time alone in his room reading wasn’t her idea of exciting. It was a shock to all of us when Amelia told us she was marrying Chris and moving to North Carolina. They hadn’t been dating that long, and she was only a year into college. At first everyone tried to talk her out of it, but then she confessed that she was

pregnant. That’s when it made sense. Chris was in the army, so at least we knew Amelia was taken care of financially. Mom set the food out on the table, and Ray didn’t waste any time. He started scooping food on his plate as if it was his first meal in days. As I spooned a piece of chicken on my own plate, I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. I’d worked through lunch, and then I’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Lennie that I’d forgotten to eat.

My stomach thanked me when I took a bite of food. For a few minutes the three of us ate without talking. But that wasn’t unusual. My family wasn’t uncomfortable with long silences. I never understood people who had to talk constantly. There was something comforting about being with people without feeling like you had to speak. But there was one thing I was curious about. Something I wanted to know. After swallowing down my food, I looked up. “So, Mom, were you able to read what I sent you?” Ever since I’d

shared with my parents that I was working on my book, Mom had been begging me to send it to her. Initially I’d scoffed at the offer. The idea of someone reading my rough draft made me want to hurl. Then I realized that was precisely why I needed to send it to her. If it was terrible, it would be better to hear from my mom than from an editor at a publishing house. Besides, if I planned to publish it, I would have to get used to the idea of people reading it, right? So last week, I’d bit the bullet and sent her what I had.

Setting down her fork she smiled at me. “Yes, I read it all, and I can’t wait for more.” “Really?” My stomach flipflopped. “You liked it?” “Liked it?” Her eyes sparkled. “I loved it.” Uh oh. I’d seen that look before. When I was in second grade I painted a picture in class. An awful monstrosity of colors morphing together until they resembled something you’d find in a toilet. But Mom beamed when I handed it to her. Then she hung it on the fridge as

if it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Perhaps my mom was the wrong person to critique my novel. “I just have one question,” she said, leaning forward. The expectant look on her face caused me to squirm in my seat. Unfortunately, the chairs were so old that even the slightest movement caused them to creak and moan. Ray threw me a dirty look until I stopped moving. Perhaps Amelia had the right idea when she moved far away. Growing up, I’d

always been told I was the smart one, but I was questioning that now. Out of the two of us she was the only one successfully living on her own. Well, maybe not technically “on her own,” but at least she was out from under our parents’ thumb. “What’s that?” I asked her. Mom smiled. “Who’s the girl?” I almost choked. “Um…she’s fictional. It’s a story, Mom.” “I know it’s a story, Colin. I’m not stupid.” Mom had never gone to college. She married

my dad right out of high school. He had a good job, so she never needed to work. After he died unexpectedly as the result of an accident when Amelia was an infant and I was a toddler, my mom immediately fell into the arms of Ray. Therefore, any time I corrected Mom or treated her like she didn’t know something she got defensive. I knew my mom was intelligent, and I had no doubt that she could’ve been very successful had she not put her dreams on hold for the rest of us. In fact, it made me sad at times. Ray had taken care of my mom

financially, but he wasn’t a good husband to her. I’m certain that if she hadn’t been so afraid to raise us on our own, she wouldn’t have married him. She would’ve paved her own path, done something exciting with her life. It was part of the reason I was taking her advice; taking time to write my novel. I didn’t want to let her down. I didn’t want her to think that her sacrifice was in vain. “But I also know my boy. And there’s no way you could write about love like this unless you had personal experience.” Her eyes met mine. “There

is someone, isn’t there?” Picturing Lennie’s face, my gaze dropped to my lap. I suppose Mom was right. Technically there was someone. But she wasn’t someone I could tell my mom about. What would I say? I ran into an old high school acquaintance, and we talked a couple of times. She refused to go out with me, so instead I’m writing about her; imagining what could have been. Oh, yeah, and she’s the same girl I used to talk about all the time in high school. She wasn’t into me then either.

Yeah, no thanks. I’d keep that to myself. In my experience, it was good to keep a lid on the crazy as much as possible. “Nope. There’s no one. It’s just a made up story.” Lifting my head, my gaze briefly landed on Ray. He stared at me, his eyes narrowed as if he suspected something. But then he bent his head over his plate, taking another bite of food, and the moment was gone. It was probably in my imagination anyway. Ray had never been the most observant guy. I couldn’t tell

you how many times Mom got a new haircut or color and it took Ray days to notice it. Sometimes he never did. She would eventually point it out or bribe one of us kids to do it. Mom, however, had always been astute. She eyed me as if she didn’t believe what I said. But I held her gaze steady as if I had nothing to hide. Still not appearing completely satisfied, she went back to her meal. I sighed with relief, grateful to have dodged that bullet for now. After dinner, I helped Mom with

dishes while Ray went to watch TV in the family room. While leaning my back against the tile counter and drying one of the frying pans, my gaze shot down the hallway to my left. The doorway to my former bedroom came into view. It had since been turned into a guest bedroom, but in my mind I could picture it exactly as it used to be. Where there was now a wall filled with framed pictures of flowers, there once was a tall bookshelf overflowing with novels. I thought of my conversation with Lennie about those choose-your-own-

ending stories. Setting the dried pan down, I turned to Mom. “Hey, whatever happened to all my books?” Mom’s arms were elbow deep in soapy water, the faucet spraying liquid down her arms. Using a sponge, she scrubbed a chrome pot. “We boxed them up years ago, remember? Ray tried to get you to take them awhile ago, but you said you didn’t have room.” Nodding, I vaguely remembered the conversation. My apartment was too small for all of my books, so that made sense. “Where are the boxes now?”

“In the garage.” After turning off the faucet, Mom pulled her arms out of the water and reached for a dishrag. Droplets of water dotted the counter and splashed on the floor near Mom’s feet. She swiftly wiped her arms with the rag and then used a different rag to wipe the counter. “C’mon, I’ll show you.” As I followed her, I noticed a few silver strands of hair at the roots of her straight brown hair. I was sure they’d be gone by the next time I came over. Mom went to her hairdresser every month like clockwork. I knew that

because she used to drag me to her appointments when I was little. Nothing was worse than spending an hour in a hair salon bored out of my mind. Amelia didn’t mind because she would peruse the glossy magazines and choose hairstyles she wanted to one day try. Mom always took us out for ice cream afterward, though, so that sort of made up for it. The garage smelled like tools and faintly of gas. Mom flicked on the wall switch, and yellow light bathed the chilly room. Passing Mom’s compact car and

Ray’s truck, Mom guided me to a shelf in the corner. Pointing to a few boxes on the bottom, she said, “There they are. Do you want to take them? I can have Ray help you carry them out.” “Oh.” I shook my head. “No. I won’t take them all. I’m looking for a specific one.” Mom grinned. “Something to help with your novel?” I paused, studying her face. “Mom, do you honestly like it? Like, would you like it if I wasn’t your son?” Her brown eyes appeared even

darker in this lighting. Reaching out, she gently patted my cheek. “I don’t like the book just because you wrote it. I like it because it’s good.” Dropping her hand, she nodded. “Seriously.” My chest expanded at her words. Maybe I actually had something this time. “I can’t wait to see it in bookstores,” she added, and the tightness in my chest returned. “I’ve been keeping my eyes open for a job,” I said. “You know, in case this doesn’t work out.” “Nonsense. It’s going to sell.” “I know, but in the meantime I

need to bring in more than my freelance work is right now.” “If you need anything, Ray and I are happy to help.” “But you shouldn’t have to. I’m an adult.” “An adult with a dream worth pursuing,” she responded. “You’ve got something special, Colin. I’ve always known it.” Shivering, she hugged herself. “Well, it’s too cold out here for me. I’ll go make some tea. Do you want some?” “No, thanks.” “Okay. Let me know if you need

any help finding something.” As Mom hurried inside, I knelt down in front of the boxes. Curving my hand around one of them, I scooted it toward me. My name was scrawled on top with Sharpie in Mom’s handwriting. Bringing it down to the floor, I pried the top open. Inside I was greeted with the scent of old books. It’s a smell that’s impossible to describe, but instantly recognizable. And a warm feeling swelled in my chest. I ran my fingertips over the spines, and when I pulled my hand back the pads of my fingers were coated in a thick film of

dust. Cold from the cement seeped through my jeans. I readjusted my position, and dug into the box. After sifting through the books, I surmised that the ones I was looking for weren’t in here. Firmly closing the top, I shoved it back onto the shelf and reached for a different box. This time I found what I was looking for right away. The choose-yourown-ending books were on top. Yanking a few of them out, I spread them out in my lap. Opening the first one, I was surprised that after all of these years I

could still remember the story and the ending I’d chosen. Satisfied, I set aside a couple of the books and then shut the remainder of them into the box. After securing the box back on the shelf, I tucked the books under my arm and stood up. I headed back into the house armed with my books and a plan.

5 I’d overslept. Every morning, I woke up at six a.m. like clockwork. I never needed to set an alarm. It was as if my body was internally set to that time. But this morning I slept peacefully until eight o’clock. When I rolled over, and saw how light it was outside I was confused. Blinking profusely, I stared at my clock in disbelief. Then again, I had stayed up late. I was busy reading through the

books I’d brought home from my parents’ house. It was reminiscent of when I was a kid. Of all the nights I’d hide under my covers reading with my flashlight. As an adult, my mom had confessed that she knew what I was doing all along. However, when I was younger I thought I was so clever, pulling one over on my parents. Sliding out of bed, I padded into the bathroom. Yawning, I turned on the shower. As steam rose around me, filling the tiny bathroom, I contemplated staying home today. I mean, wasn’t that the

beauty of not having a job? Whenever I fantasized about becoming an author, I pictured myself staying in my pajamas all day, forgoing showers and going out for the sake of my craft. But as I stood under the steady stream of water allowing the heat to penetrate my back muscles, I decided against it. What if this was the one day Lennie came into the coffee shop again? In my experience, that was the way it worked. It was like when you were waiting for a package and the UPS guy finally showed up the one time you

went to use the restroom. So I hurriedly scrubbed my body with soap, determined to get out of here as quickly as possible. When Lennie had shown up, it was around eight or eight-thirty, so time was of the essence. After hopping out of the shower, I wrapped the towel around my waist and brushed my teeth so fast it was like I was involved in some type of contest. My window to possibly seeing Lennie was quickly dwindling. It took me only minutes to throw on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Not wanting to bother

with my hair, I grabbed a hat and my jacket, and flung them on. I slid into my shoes, slung my laptop bag over my shoulder, and raced outside. I didn’t bother driving to the coffee shop because I didn’t want to waste an hour searching for a parking space. It was faster to walk. And I certainly wasn’t paying for a space in a parking garage. Besides, it wasn’t raining today. In fact, the sun was even making an appearance. Not a huge one. Mostly it was hidden behind the clouds, but it peeked out every once in awhile,

teasing and alluring, like a wink. With my laptop bag thumping against the side of my thigh, I walked swiftly down the street. Cars zipped past, kicking up cold wind that blew over my neck. Shivering, I bent my head and continued on. Men carrying briefcases, cell phones pressed to the ears slid around me. A teenager bumped me because she was too busy texting to notice I existed. One morning, I almost saw a teenage boy get hit by a car because he was doing the same thing. The coffee shop came into view,

and hope sparked the same way it did every day. Picking up the pace, I made my way to the front door. I had almost reached it when it popped open. Reacting, I stepped back, my eyes widening at the sight of the person walking through it. “Lennie?” “Oh.” She bit her lip. “Hi, Colin. I thought maybe you were writing somewhere else today.” Had she been looking for me? Hoping to see me? “I…” overslept. “…had some

things to take care of this morning.” “Well, I’m on my way to another appointment.” Holding a white paper cup in her hand, she moved away from the door. I followed her. “I take it the last one didn’t go so well.” She shook her head. Today she wore a different beanie. This one was dark blue, almost navy, and it brought out the color of her eyes. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, the strands whipping in the breeze. “Not so much. No.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Me too.” Her lips curled downward in a frown as her eyes shifted back and forth. “I need to get going or I’ll be late.” Glancing down at my laptop bag, she added, “Have a great writing day.” Mentally I cursed myself for oversleeping this morning. Of all the mornings. Man, I had crap luck. “Actually, I was just out taking a walk, so I’ll join you.” She raised her eyebrows. “With your laptop?”

I shrugged. “I take it with me everywhere. You know, just in case inspiration strikes.” “Does it really strike that often?” There was a teasing gleam in her eyes that reminded me of my imaginary Lennie. More like the girl she used to be. “Depends on the day.” “But you have a feeling it will strike today, huh?” What was happening here? Was she flirting? Taking a chance, I stepped closer to her. “Oh, I know it will.” She backed up, almost running

into the glass window behind her. The look on her face was one of discomfort. Maybe I’d misread it. Perhaps I’d taken it too far. I stepped away. Swallowing hard, she slinked out of reach. “It’s okay. I don’t mind walking alone. Besides, I don’t want to stunt your creativity.” She was doing it again. Pushing me away. What was the deal? Every time it seemed like she was letting down her guard, she quickly threw it back up again. Something scared her, and I wanted desperately to know what it was.

But I wouldn’t force myself on her. If she wanted to walk alone, I had to respect that. However, I still had one more card to play. I only hoped it worked. “Wait,” I called after her, stopping her before she could get far. “I have something for you.” She spun around, pointing to her chest with her free hand. “For me?” The wind kicked up, her scarf lifting from her chest. She grabbed it, held it down. “Yeah.” I unzipped my bag and dipped my hand inside.

“But you didn’t know you’d see me,” she said slowly. She probably thought I was a stalker. Most likely that was the reason she kept running away. I took a breath. “I know. I um….just had something I thought you might like. It was a coincidence.” I prayed that she bought my lie. Before she could call my bluff and high tail it out of there, I pulled out the book. “It’s one of those books we were talking about the other day - a choose-your-own-ending one.” I flashed it in her direction. “I was just thinking

about it after we talked, so I found my old ones. I was reading this one, hoping for inspiration for the ending of my book.” “Ah.” Her eyes widened. “And did it help?” “Maybe.” I nodded. “Anyway, I happened to have this with me, and when I ran into you I thought maybe it was fate.” Thrusting it forward, I said, “Like maybe you’re supposed to have it.” Her hand folded over it, our fingertips brushing lightly. It made me shudder. If she noticed, she didn’t

acknowledge it. “Thanks,” she answered quietly. “You sure you don’t want to keep it?” “I’m sure.” I nodded. “But how will you come up with your ending?” The slight teasing was back. Seriously, this girl was hard to read. It was almost as if she was at odds with herself. As if she were two different people. Like the old Lennie was hidden deep inside fighting the new Lennie for dominance. I wondered what it would take for the old Lennie to win.

“Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out,” I assured her. She held up the book. “So did you stick to one ending or did you read them all?” “I stuck to one.” “Was it a happy one?” “It was,” I told her honestly. “Did it convince you to write a happy ending in your novel?” I waggled my index finger. “No way. I’m not giving away my book that easily. You’ll have to wait.” A curtain of darkness passed

over her eyes. She dropped the book I gave her into the purse hanging from her shoulder. When she looked back up, she winced, lifting her hand to touch her temple. “You okay?” I asked. “Yeah. I just have a little headache.” She forced a smile, but it came out more like a cringe. “Thanks for the book.” “I want to hear what ending you choose,” I said. “What?” I could tell by her expression that she regretted taking it

now. Not allowing her to give it back, I walked toward the coffee shop. “Next time you get coffee, you can tell me what ending you chose.” With a quick wave, I turned around. “Are you here every day?” Her words stunned me. Peering over my shoulder, I nodded. “Okay.” She smiled. “I better get reading then.” I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I smiled swiftly and then stepped into the coffee shop. Once inside, I blew out a

breath. Did that just happen? My heart pounded loudly in my chest. It wasn’t exactly the same as getting her number, or even securing a date with her. But it was something.

6 Waiting was the hardest part. In the days after I gave Lennie the book, I went into the coffee shop every morning on time. Some days I remained until closing. Never did I stay up so late that I wouldn’t be able to get up the next morning, and I even set my alarm a couple of times just in case. But she never showed. A week passed, and then two. My anticipation dwindled a little more every day. I had started to

give up hope that she would ever step into the coffee shop again, when she suddenly appeared. That was the way it seemed to be with her. She’d give just enough to reel me in, then leave me hanging. And when I was about to give up, she’d piece out a tiny bit more. I wondered how long I could live off of these measly bits and pieces. Especially when, deep down, I wanted so much more. “I finished.” After plunking the book down on my table directly in front

of my laptop, she sat down across from me without asking permission. But it was okay. It’s not like I would’ve said no. Still, it was odd how at ease she appeared at times, when other times she looked like she was ready to crawl out of her skin. “And?” I prodded. “And it was good.” “Did you stick to one ending?” “Actually, I did this time,” she responded, surprising me. “It was a good ending. A happy ending, so I decided not to mess with it.”

“Sounds like maybe we chose the same ending,” I mused, leaning back in my chair. Great minds…” she let the remainder of the saying hang in the air. “Oh.” I sat forward. “You don’t have a drink. Let me go grab you one.” I stood. “Vanilla latte, right?” “It’s okay. I can get it.” She pushed up out of the chair, but when she got to a standing position her eyes widened as if something was wrong. I froze. Her hand flew out, fumbling for the table, but never quite reaching it.

Instead her fingers would slide along the edges and then drop off. Her body swayed forward and backward like a bowling pin trying to stay upright. She blinked in rapid succession. “Whoa.” I shot my arms out, wrapping them around her waist to hold her steady. She wobbled in my arms, but I wouldn’t let her fall. Breathing deeply, she leaned into me. Warm breath blew over my shirt, seeping through the skin over my rapidly beating heart. I rode my hands up her spine, startled by how pronounced it was. She was always so

bundled up that I hadn’t noticed how frail she was before. Perhaps she didn’t eat enough. Maybe that’s why she almost passed out. And she had almost passed out, right? That’s what it seemed like to me. “You okay?” I asked, concerned. Her body slid against mine, fitting perfectly. She was so close, it would only take one movement, one inch, for my lips to touch her skin. I would only have to raise my hand and my fingertips would have full access to the flesh on her neck and collarbone, her soft cheeks, her supple lips.

She peered up at me, still not looking right. She was too pale. More pale than usual and that’s saying something. I remembered her being tan when we were younger, but ever since I’d seen her again her skin had been paper white. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well.” “That’s okay.” It was more than okay. Even though I felt bad that she was sick, it was hard to feel too bad when she was nestled in my arms. My teenage daydreams were being partially fulfilled in this moment. If she lifted her head a

little higher, her lips would press against mine, and I could almost put my fantasies to rest. “I should probably go home. It might be the flu or something, and I don’t want to infect you.” She squirmed in my arms. Reluctantly, I released her. At first she looked unsure, as if she thought she might fall over again. But she didn’t, so I backed up. “Coffee’s probably not a good idea today,” she said, wiping a hand over her brow. “I’ll leave the book here.

Thanks for letting me read it.” When she pulled her hand back, she bumped her scarf and it shifted, revealing a portion of her chest, a splash of her neck. I sucked in a breath, and quickly averted my gaze, staring into her eyes. What I saw had renewed my purpose. There was no way I was letting her leave now. “We never finished our conversation,” I said, moving toward her. “Let me have your number. We can meet up when you’re feeling better.” “It’s okay.” She waved away my suggestion. “I’ll just see you here. You

said you’re here every day, right?” “Lennie.” Reaching up, I touched her face. Flinching, she leapt back. Frantically, she tugged the scarf back over her chest. “What are you doing?” “You’re sick,” I said. “Yes,” she responded in an exasperated tone. “That’s what I just said.” “But it’s not the flu, is it?” My gaze fell to her neck and chest. Even though she’d covered herself back up with the scarf, I could tell that she knew

what I saw. Her entire body stilled. She glanced around the room, moisture filling her eyes. Her chest rose and fell. “No,” she finally said, and the darkness in her tone told me everything I needed to know. Not that I was shocked. I think I knew from that first day I saw her again. She seemed sickly. Too frail. Too pale. Too cold all of the time. And there’d been the other signs like the rash, the headaches. Seeing the scar on her neck and the port in her chest today only

confirmed what I’d already suspected but hadn’t wanted to face. I knew what a port was, only because we’d had a neighbor who had cancer and she had one. One time I asked her about it, and she said it was so they could administer medicine and draw blood without having to insert an IV every time. “And that’s why I can’t give you my number and why I can’t go on a date with you,” she continued. “Because you’re sick?” “Because I’m dying.” The words she spoke were

shocking, but the way she said them wasn’t. It was the same way you told someone you were going to school or going to work. It was the way someone spoke when they’d resigned themselves to their fate. When they’d gone through all of the emotions it takes to process this kind of information. And now it all made sense. Now I knew where the old Lennie went. She’d already been laid to rest. But I refused to let her go completely. Lennie was still here. She

was still flesh and bones. Every moment on this earth counted, and I had to make her see that. “But you’re not dead,” I pointed out. “Not yet,” she intoned. “So why can’t we spend time together for now?” Cocking her head to the side, she bit her lip. “Why would you want to? I mean, you hardly know me.” “That’s not true. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers.” She snorted. A couple walked

inside holding hands. Cool air enveloped us. “We’d had like one class together and talked a couple of times. I’d hardly call that ‘knowing each other’.” “Still. I knew you. Maybe just in passing, but I did. And I liked what I knew,” I told her honestly. The guy at the table next to us glanced over curiously, so I lowered my voice. “And I’ve enjoyed our last few conversations. I’d like that to continue. I don’t think that’s so weird, do you?” She sighed. “Look, you seem like a nice guy. And, honestly, I’ve enjoyed

our conversations too.” Pausing, her gaze dropped to her boots. “A lot, actually. But partly because you didn’t know I was sick. Every relationship I have right now is about my illness. And once it becomes about that, it’s ruined.” “But this isn’t ruined. Hell, it hasn’t even started yet,” I said. “Sit down.” I lowered my hand toward the chair she was in a few minutes ago. “We can talk about the book or we can just sit in silence. I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is you leaving right now after you almost passed out.”

A small smile flickered. “Okay. I’ll sit. But only for a minute. And only because I’m not sure I can make it home right now.” After we settled in our chairs, our gazes met. “You wanna know what I have, don’t you?” I shook my head. “No.” “Then what do you want to know?” I touched the book that lay on the table. “I want to know what ending you chose.” Relief swept over her face. Smiling, she leaned forward. “That’s

something I’d love to tell you about.” As she launched into an explanation of the book, I sat back in my chair admiring her. For the first time since we’d reconnected, she was animated and lively. I had to remind myself that this was flesh and blood Lennie and not imaginary Lennie. And it gave me hope. Hope that I could help her. Hope that I could make her come alive.

7 “Did you walk here?” I asked when Lennie prepared to leave. She nodded. I collected my things, shoving them into my bag. We’d been here for hours. Some of it was spent talking, but most of it was in silence. Lennie seemed content, even relieved, to simply sit at the table while I worked. It was weird writing about imaginary Lennie while flesh and blood Lennie was seated

across from me. “I’ll walk you home.” She shook her head exactly like I knew she would. “It’s no use,” I said firmly, flinging my bag over my shoulder. “If you refuse, I’ll just follow you.” Her eyes widened. “C’mon, you almost passed out earlier,” I explained. “What kind of guy would I be if I let you walk home after that?” “It’s been hours. I’m fine.” She readjusted her scarf, tucked her thumb

under the strap of her purse. “I told you it was no use. I’m walking you home. It can either be as your walking partner, or your shadow. Your choice.” She narrowed her eyes. “You always struck me as a go-with-the-flow type of guy. I never pegged you as the bossy type.” “It’s like you said, ‘we never really knew each other’.” Her head bobbed up and down with agreement, but she appeared unnerved by the statement. “Fine. You

can walk me home. I don’t want you following me like some kind of stalker.” It was only a joke, but it hit a little close to home, and my insides knotted. Swallowing hard, I stepped forward. Icy air greeted us when we walked outside. Lennie shivered, and I fought the urge to put my arm around her. Ever since I’d held her earlier, it was all I could think about. Besides, I hated seeing her cold. But I also didn’t want to scare her, to push her away again. She was skittish like a stray cat. One wrong move, and I was certain I’d lose her for

good. “What did you miss about the city?” I asked as we rounded the corner. Her head swung up, a question in her eyes. “You said that Southern California wasn’t home,” I reminded her. “What did you miss?” “Oh.” Again she seemed surprised that I recalled what she’d said. Was it really that strange that I paid attention? Did people not do that? “I don’t know that it was any one thing. More the feeling I guess. San Francisco

feels like home. It feels comfortable, you know. In Southern California everything was new, and I had trouble finding my bearings.” A dance studio was to the left of us. Lennie’s head swiveled toward it, her eyes widening as she took in the couples floating over the dance floor. A funny expression cloaked her face that I couldn’t quite place. Envy maybe. Longing possibly. “Do you dance?” I asked, my head bending toward the window. “Um…no. Rob and I were signed

up to take lessons, but we broke up before we ever had the chance.” I wanted to ask her what happened between her and Rob. But every time she mentioned him she appeared so sad. I hated seeing her like that, so I didn’t linger on the subject. Once we’d passed the dance studio, we came upon a homeless man. He held up a cardboard sign. I didn’t need to read it to know what it said. Lennie stopped when we reached him. “Tim?” She said, shocking me. He peered into her eyes, a smile forming

on his weathered face. “I got you something.” Dipping her hand into her purse, she pulled out a white bag. I knew there was a pastry inside. She’d bought it at the coffee shop. Until now I hadn’t noticed that she didn’t eat it. “Thank you, Lennie,” he responded, holding the bag close. When she stood back up and resumed walking, I stared at her profile in awe. In so many ways she seemed like a different person, but in many ways she was the same sweet girl she’d always been. As if sensing my eyes on her, she

turned her head. “What? Why are you staring at me?” “You knew his name….and he knew yours.” “Why does that surprise you? Because he’s homeless?” What she implied was convicting. I probably passed that guy every day and didn’t notice him. Lennie had taken the time to not only talk to him, but introduce herself. I shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Now that I think about it, it’s not that surprising. It was a very

‘Lennie’ thing to do.” She cocked one eyebrow. “A ‘Lennie’ thing to do? Meaning what?” “I just remembered you being a compassionate person, that’s all.” “From high school?” Her tone was dubious. “Yeah,” I responded. A group of men came toward us, taking up the sidewalk. My hand brushed Lennie’s arm as we moved out of the way. “Glad to know I came across that way,” she said.

“Did you think you hadn’t?” “I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “I know that I was really different then. I was obsessed with boys and clothes and popularity. Stupid stuff.” She snorted. “I often wonder if I would’ve done everything differently…you know….if I had known.” “Known what?” She shot me an irritated look. “Known that I was going to die.” I couldn’t help the light chuckle that escaped from my throat. “Did you think you were immortal?”

“Of course not.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “You know what I mean.” I did know what she meant, but I wanted her to stop thinking that way. “I used to work at a record store before I started writing my book,” I said. Her face scrunched up with confusion, and it almost made me laugh out loud. She was probably wondering what this piece of randomness had to do with anything. I continued so she’d see the connection. “For awhile I worked with this guy named Ben. He was in his early forties, married, had two kids. Most days he

rode his bike to work. But one day his wife dropped him off. They had dinner plans with friends, so she was picking him up after work. I remember that day so vividly. Nothing happened out of the ordinary at all. Ben was the same as always – laughing, joking, talking. Apparently, he and his wife had a great time at dinner. Afterward, they went home, poured some wine and sat on the couch watching TV.” Lennie’s stare was so intense, I could practically feel it. She didn’t breathe, and her clipped strides had slowed. It was obvious that she

knew where this was going. “Then he suddenly slumped over and died. Massive heart attack. Came out of nowhere.” Lennie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “God, that’s terrible.” “Yeah, it was,” I agreed, remembering how heartbroken his wife and kids were at the memorial service. Even though I’d hardly known him, he’d left an impression. Work never felt the same after he passed. “And, do you remember John Sims from high school?” “Yeah,” she whispered. “And I

know about his accident.” Shaking her head, her eyes pressed closed for a minute. “I was friends with his wife, actually. In fact, I was at the wedding. It was awful that he died only a few months after they got married.” “I didn’t know them that well, but I remember being shocked when I heard.” “If you’re trying to cheer me up, you’re doing a terrible job,” she said, shoving her fingers down into her pockets. “I’m not,” I said. “I’m just

pointing out that none of us knows when our time is up. Ben was just living his life. He had a fun night at dinner and then was cuddling on the couch with his wife, completely unaware that it was his last night. Honestly, it gives me comfort to know that he was happy at the end.” We rounded another corner, and the street inclined upward. “The truth is, that you may be the one who’s sick, but I could die before you. I could get hit by a car when I leave you tonight.” Light from the streetlamps cast an eerie glow on her pale skin. She wasn’t looking at me, but

I could tell she was contemplating my words. I could see it in the tight set of her jaw. “Being sick doesn’t guarantee your death. Being alive does.” Lennie’s head snapped toward me, fire in her eyes. She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath. I stopped too, waiting for whatever it was she was gearing up to say. But then her gaze flickered to a house on her right, and she simply said, “This is where I live.” It was a nice home, and I wondered if she lived with a roommate. From what I understood, she didn’t have

a job. As if in answer to my silent question, she said, “It’s my parents’. It’s actually the same house I grew up in.” Something dawned on me. “The appointments you’ve been going to. They weren’t job interviews, were they?” She shook her head. “Doctor’s appointments. The hospital is--” “Right across the street from the coffee shop,” I finished for her, wondering why I hadn’t figured it out sooner. “Well, if you ever need someone to come with you to an appointment, let me know.”

She smiled. “You’ve already done enough.” “At least let me take you out for dinner sometime,” I pressed. Pausing, she scratched the back of her neck. Sighing, she reached out her hand. “Hand me your phone.” After turning it on, I dropped it into her palm. Her fingers flew over the screen for a second, and then she handed it back. “Now you have my number.” Closing my fingers around the phone, my heart leapt in my chest.

8 The couple in the upstairs apartment were fighting again. It was a symphony of raised voices, accusations being tossed back and forth like a game of catch. I sat on the couch flipping through the channels attempting to find a show that would capture my attention. But it was a losing battle. Between the fighting upstairs and my thoughts about Lennie, I couldn’t focus. Finally, I gave up,

shutting off the TV and tossing the remote on the couch near my leg. Stretching out my legs, I rested my head on the cushions and let my mind wander to my conversations with Lennie today. The sadness in her eyes and the hopelessness of her words plagued me. I couldn’t shake it. No one should be that unhappy. It’s not that I didn’t understand it. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through. But I didn’t want her to throw her life away while she still had it. I wanted to see her smile. To see her laugh. To see her enjoy every moment.

As I replayed our exchange on the way home, a thought struck me. Heart pumping, I shot up. The couple upstairs was still going at it, but I ignored them. From what I overheard, it never escalated past yelling. If he hit her, I’d have to get involved, but so far that hadn’t happened, and I was grateful. Fumbling around with my hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. After a quick google search, I found exactly what I was looking for. One phone call later, and my plan was set in motion. I was reminded of all the

times Mom told me I had no idea what it was like when she was younger. That technology had made life too easy now with everything right at our fingertips. Searching my contacts, I found Lennie’s name. Running my fingertips over the screen, a smile formed on my face. I was about to press on her name, when I stopped. In college my roommate always said that you had to wait at least three days after you got a girl’s number before you could call her. If not, he explained, you would seem desperate. Then again, he had tons of rules when it

came to dating. I had a hard time following them. I was the kind of guy who jumped in head first when it came to girls. If I liked someone, I didn’t want to play games. I just wanted to date her. But perhaps my roommate was right. He did have a lot more girlfriends than I did in college, that’s for sure. And I had already come on pretty strong where Lennie was concerned. Lowering the phone, I dropped it onto my stomach. The arguing upstairs had finished, and silence blanketed me save the wind rustling outside my window.

Rolling my head to the side, I stared out at the inky black sky, the trees swaying in the breeze. When I was a kid, I would open my windows on nights like this. Then I’d breathe in the cold night air, the scent of the city filling my senses. I understood what Lennie meant about feeling comfortable in the city, because I felt the same way. After high school graduation, I had friends who traveled to other countries. Went backpacking through Europe, or built houses in Mexico, or did mission work in Africa. I’ll never forget how excited they were

preparing for their adventures. And I wanted to be excited for them. Only I couldn’t. Deep down I was horrified. The thought of traveling to a foreign country caused panic to rise up inside of me like the swell of an ocean wave. I liked the safety and security of being somewhere familiar. There was nowhere in the city that I wasn’t familiar with. The unknown was something that didn’t appeal to me. Honestly, I thought Lennie was brave for even attempting to live somewhere else. And the fact that she ended up coming

back endeared me to her further. It seemed that maybe we were more alike than I originally thought. Pausing, I sucked in a breath. In my mind I saw it all. Lennie going about her comfortable life, knowing where she was headed, and what was in store. And then she was told she was sick. She was hit with a bomb that blew apart all that was familiar. All that was comfortable. I felt a little guilty for being harsh with her earlier. The words were meant to help her, but I realized now that

they could have been misconstrued. I had no idea what it would be like to be told that you were dying. It was one thing to know it could happen at any minute, and quite another to be told it definitely will happen soon. It was insensitive of me to think I could relate at all to what she was going through. I still planned to be there for her. To make her happy any way I could. And I still wanted to help her live her life to the fullest. But I vowed to be more sensitive, more sympathetic. Plucking my phone up, I

unlocked it. Who cared about my roommate’s stupid rule? When I’d left Lennie it had only been hours since she passed out. She was sick. She was depressed. She was dying. I thought it was safe to throw protocol out the window at this point. Without a second thought, I called her. “That didn’t take long,” she joked when she answered. At the easy banter, my mind filled with visions of teenage Lennie. “I just wanted to check on you,” I hurried to answer. “See how you’re

feeling.” “I’m fine now,” she said. “No more passing out or anything.” “Good,” I said. “Actually, I’m glad you called. I forgot to say thank you earlier.” She paused. “For hanging out with me and walking me home.” “It was no problem.” It wasn’t like I made some huge sacrifice. Truth was that it was one of the best days I’d had in a long time. “I’m sorry if you didn’t get much work done because of me.”

“No, it was fine.” “So is this the first book you’ve written?” “Yeah,” I said. “How does it work exactly? Like, do you have an agent or publisher or something?” My stomach knotted. “Um…no. I actually don’t even know what my plan is. I might query agents and publishers when it’s done, or I might publish it myself.” “That’s exciting.” I could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“You’re like involved in your very own ‘choose your ending’ story. The possibilities are endless.” Quiet filled the line. Creaking sounded from upstairs, like a bed being jumped on. Now that the couple was done fighting they were making up. Honestly, I preferred the yelling. Wincing, I lowered my head, hoping the pillows would drown out the noise. “Have you ever thought of writing something yourself? It might be therapeutic,” I reasoned. “When I was younger I wanted to

write, but my dreams changed over time,” she explained. “What is your dream now?” I asked, curious. “To live.” Her words punched me in the gut with such force I feared I might hurl. Something about the vulnerability in that statement brought the reality of the situation into extreme focus. Before everything had seemed blurry, like an old, grainy photo. I was straddling the lines between real life and fantasy. But this wasn’t a daydream.

I was no longer a teenage boy scrawling Lennie’s name in my notebook. I was a grown man. And Lennie was an adult. An adult who was dealing with the most awful thing a person had to go through. Could I handle this? If not, I needed to end it right now. It was one thing to chase this idea of a girl I crushed on in high school. To fulfill a desire in my own life. Lennie needed more than that. She needed someone who could care for her. Someone who could

help her. Was I that guy? Did I want to be? “Colin?” Her voice was shy, unsure, child-like. My heart stuttered. “Are you still there?” I cleared my throat. “Yes, I am.” A sigh caressed my ear, and my insides flipped. I didn’t ever want to leave her hanging, to let her down. I wanted to be the reason she felt safe and secure. I wasn’t sure I was capable of

being the guy she deserved, but I sure as hell was going to try.

9 I wanted to surprise her, but she wasn’t making it easy. “Where are you planning to take me?” She asked incessantly in the days leading up to our first official date. I could tell it bothered her when I refused to tell her. A couple of times I almost caved. I hated the thought of making her unhappy. However, when I saw the look of shock on her face when we showed up at

the dance studio, it was all worth it. Her expression of pure awe and unadulterated happiness was exactly what I’d been anxiously awaiting. “What are we doing here?” There was cautious optimism in her voice, as if she figured she knew why I brought her here, but part of her worried that she was wrong. “I signed us up for a class.” “You did?” The cautiousness was gone. Her smile broadened, sweeping her face. Color rose on her cheeks.

I nodded, my heart swelling. As we stepped inside, her gaze flew all around the room as if she didn’t know where to look first. “I can’t believe you did this for me,” she breathed. I shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “I don’t know how to dance either, so it’s a win-win.” As we approached the dance instructor, Lennie’s fingertips brushed mine. A shudder rippled through me. Then she shocked me by folding her fingers around my palm. I swallowed

hard, my entire body heating up. Her skin was soft and silky against my rough flesh. I savored the way she clutched me tightly, the way our fingers wound together. As the instructor introduced herself, I didn’t hear a word. All of my attention was focused on the feeling of Lennie’s skin against mine. I couldn’t get over the fact that she was touching me. But mostly that she had initiated it. If I thought that holding her hand was pure bliss, dancing with her was even better. The class I signed us up for was ballroom dancing. Therefore, I got

to hold Lennie in my arms the entire time. Honestly, we weren’t the best dancers in the class. Both of us were awkward and jerky in our movements. Then again, I doubted I could do anything well when my hands were on Lennie’s body. It was a power of wills to simply pay attention in the class when all I wanted to do was memorize every inch of her. To savor the feel of my hand riding up her back, or my palm pressed to hers. Adding in dance steps was quite the challenge. “It’s a good thing I’ll never get

married,” Lennie said breathlessly between giggles. “I would make a fool of myself at my reception.” I hated how she darkened every light moment. “Don’t say that,” I commanded. “You don’t know that it’s true.” “Oh, yes, I do. Look at me. I’m a mess on the dance floor.” Her words were teasing, but what she was insinuating wasn’t. One side of my lip curled upward. “I’ll admit you’re not the best. Neither of us are, but that’s not what I

meant.” I caught her eye. “You don’t know that you’ll never get married.” She stiffened in my arms, her legs stilling. As she stared into my eyes, her breath became labored, her chest heaving. “Yes, I do, Colin,” she whispered, as if the words physically hurt when they tore from her throat. “And you need to understand that too. I know you’re trying to help, but giving me false hope won’t help me.” “I’m not trying to do that.” Lifting my hand, I gently touched her chin. “I’m simply trying to make you

happy.” Her eyelids fluttered as she melted into my touch. She didn’t say anything, but I read the words in the silence. I knew that in this moment she was happy, and it was enough for me. My thumb rested on her skin. Moving it slightly, it rubbed against her flesh. Up and down, generating heat. Stepping forward, my waist slid against hers. I waited for her reaction. Waited to see if she’d pull away. She didn’t. Curling my hand around her face,

I fastened the other arm securely around her middle. Angling her face upward, she breathed out, hot air fanning over my neck. I lowered my head. Her eyes crashed into mine, and I could see the desire in her irises. My heart pounded louder and louder the closer my lips came to hers. When they almost touched, a yelp sounded at the back of her throat. Without warning, she leapt backward. I blinked, my brows furrowing. She frowned, and her lips began to quiver. “I’m so sorry.” She shook her

head, moisture filling her eyes. “I can’t do this.” Whirling around, she hurried out the front door. Throwing an apologetic look to the instructor, I followed her. I wove through the other couples on the dance floor, feeling a little embarrassed. Not that they noticed me at all. They were too focused on their dance partners or on their own feet as they tried to keep up with the steps. When I got outside, Lennie was learning against the brick wall, hugging herself. Tears streaked her face. I felt like an idiot. Had I misread

the entire thing? Was I imagining the signals? “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “No. I’m the one who’s sorry.” Her voice wavered, and my heart tumbled to the ground. I wanted this night to be special. I wanted her to be happy; carefree. But she wasn’t any of those things. I’d failed. “I’m sorry about all of this, Colin. I never should’ve given you my number or agreed to go out with you.” It was getting worse. So much worse. “Please don’t say that.”

Her face was ravaged. She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the ground as she wrung her hands until they were crimson like blood. “You’re a nice guy, Colin. And what you did tonight was so sweet. But I can’t keep leading you on like this. It’s not fair to you.” I stood in front of her pressing my palms on the bricks framing both sides of her face, caging her in. “You’ve been upfront from the beginning, Lennie. I know you’re sick, but I still want to date you.” “I’m not just sick, Colin,” she

spat angrily. “I have stage 4 melanoma.” “Like skin cancer?” Now I really was confused. “Technically, yes. But it’s the most deadly form of skin cancer,” she explained in a way that told me she had already said it a million times. “Mine has spread to my brain. And where the tumor is, they can’t operate. We’ve been doing treatments in hopes of shrinking it, but so far they’re not working.” “There must be some medicine or something.” I knew I was grasping at straws, but surely we couldn’t give up.

“We’ve tried everything, Colin. Trust me.” Her shoulders slumped. Dread descended on me like a heavy weight. I could scarcely breathe under the enormity of it, but I couldn’t let her see my struggle. She’d been through so much. I had to be strong for her. “I still want to be with you, Lennie,” I spoke softly, hoping she’d see how genuine I was. “That’s because you don’t fully get it. If you did, you wouldn’t be saying this. Trust me. My own fiancée couldn’t stay with me once he found out. He said

he didn’t want to watch me die.” Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit down on it. “Hell, my own parents can barely stand to be in the same room with me. It’s too hard for them.” Her gaze met mine. “We barely know each other. I can’t ask you to stick around and watch me die.” “Then don’t.” I swiped my fingertip over her cheek, wiping away the warm tears. “Ask me to watch you live.” She inhaled sharply. “What?” “I do get it, Lennie. I know

you’re dying. You’ve told me so many times I have the words etched into my brain. There’s no way I could forget.” As tears filled her eyes once again, I breathed deeply to quell the emotion rising in my throat. “But right now you can walk, you can drink coffee, you can go out to eat, you can dance. Physically you’re still alive, but inside you’ve let yourself die. I want to see you live.” She sniffed, her eyes searching mine. Then she shoved off the wall, practically lunging herself at me. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and her

lips fastened to mine. There was no warning, no build up. She kissed me greedily, her fingertips playing with the edges of my hair, her fingernails raking over the skin on the back of my neck. Her tongue slid out of her mouth, teasing the seam of my lips until they parted. I allowed her to take the lead, knowing it was what she needed. And trust me, I wasn’t complaining. The kiss was achingly beautiful, filled with more emotion than I’d ever been able to convey with the written word. I felt every bit of sadness

in her heart. It was like she was feeding it to me, releasing it with every push and pull of her mouth, every touch of her fingers, every taste of her tongue. But I also felt passion, need, desire. For the first time, she wasn’t teenage Lennie, or imaginary Lennie. She was flesh and blood Lennie. And the kiss wasn’t a fulfillment of teenage fantasy. It was real, authentic, moving. In that moment, all of my preconceived notions flew out the window. Colin and Lennie ceased to

exist. We were simply a boy and a girl who needed each other.

10 “Mom tells me you’ve been seeing someone.” The minute I saw Amelia’s name come up on my cell, I knew something was up. She never called out of the blue. “Mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I said, flustered. No way was I telling my family about Lennie. At first I kept her from them because there was nothing going on. But even now I planned to keep our relationship under

wraps. I didn’t need them messing anything up for me. “She says you’ve been acting weird, Colin.” Her voice took on a condescending quality. I hated that she was my younger sister and yet acted like she was older. And her words irked me. “How, exactly?” “I don’t know. She just said that you’re acting like a guy in love. Whatever that means.” “Out of the two of us, I’d assume you would know what that means. The

fact that you don’t makes me a little concerned about your marriage,” I said dryly. I hated being mean to Amelia, but she was asking for it. Usually I kept my snide comments to myself. I didn’t like confrontation. In fact, it scared me. Probably because the one and only time I stuck up for myself as a kid I’d gotten beat up pretty badly. The recollection of that altercation kept me from speaking my mind again. “I know what it looks like when a guy is in love. I just don’t know what it looks like when you’re in love,” she

said with a huff. “I mean, I know what it looks like when you’re--” I cut her off, knowing exactly where she was going and not wanting to hear it. “My love life is none of your business.” “Ah, so now you’re admitting that you have a love life.” “I’m not admitting anything. I’m just trying to end this damn interrogation.” Leaning back in the hard wooden chair, I blew out a breath. My screensaver came up on my laptop, bubbles bouncing all over the screen.

Before Amelia called I’d been sitting at the kitchen table trying to get in one last scene before going to bed. Now I wished I’d let the call go to voice mail. The only reason I answered was because I figured if I didn’t she’d call Mom, and then I’d have both of them trying to track me down. “I was never this nosy about your love life.” “I know.” Her tone softened. “I’m sorry. I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want what happened to you before-” Again, I interrupted her. “I don’t

want to talk about that, okay? That’s in the past. Why can’t you leave it there?” It was something I never thought about. Not unless my family brought it up, that is. “Sorry,” she apologized. “If you say you’re not dating, I believe you.” I touched the mousepad on the laptop and the bubbles disappeared, my document returning. Then I reached for my mug of tea. Lifting it to my lips, I took a sip. Cringing, I found that it was cold. Great. I’d have to nuke it in the microwave, and it would never taste as

good as it had when it was freshly brewed. “Colin?” Amelia said. “Yeah?” I set the tea back down on the table with a thud. The floral scent of chamomile lingered. “You’re not dating anyone, right?” “I told you I’m not.” “Okay. Just checking. You were quiet for a minute.” I ran my hand over my disheveled hair. “That’s because you kinda caught me in the middle of

writing.” “That’s right. Mom told me you were working on your book,” she said, her voice cheery. A little too cheery. Almost forced. “You’ve always been very imaginative.” She paused. I could hear her breathing through the line. “I remember when we were kids, you could always entertain yourself. You’d run around the backyard with a towel wrapped around your neck saying you were a superhero. Or you’d make forts out of large boxes and sit outside in them pretending you were in a cabin in the

woods.” She laughed. “I never got how you could do that.” I bristled at the memories. Amelia always made fun of me for stuff like that. But she wasn’t creative. She had no imagination. Hell, she didn’t even read books. Therefore, I didn’t put much stock into her opinion of me. “That’s because you spent all your time drooling over celebrities.” “True. I guess I haven’t fully outgrown it either. I still like getting my fill of celebrity gossip.” She chuckled. “Don’t tell me you still play superhero.”

“No, I don’t.” I was tiring of this conversation. Amelia clearly read my mood, because she said, “All right. Well, I guess I’ll let you go. Seems like you’re busy.” She sounded so dejected I wanted to feel bad. But I didn’t. I was busy, and this trip down memory lane was pointless. Besides, it’s not like she ever felt bad about picking on me when we were kids. Between Amelia and Ray, I couldn’t get away with anything. They would tease me about every little thing I

did that they didn’t understand. The only person that even tried to understand me was Mom. After saying our goodbyes, I clicked off, grateful that was over. Scooting forward, I placed my hands over the keyboard. As I started typing, I was more than happy to escape into my imaginary world.

When my phone rang later that night, I thought for sure it was Mom. Amelia

probably told her that I was rude. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth and preparing for bed when I heard it. Freezing, I contemplated ignoring it. I could tell Mom I had already gone to bed. But then I decided I better answer it. Mom was known for being a worrier. On more than one occasion she’d shown up at my apartment when I didn’t answer my phone. Not wishing for a repeat of that event, I scurried to the dining table where I’d left my phone next to the laptop. When my gaze landed on

Lennie’s name, my heart skipped a beat. With a shaky hand, I snatched up the phone and swiftly answered it. By this point it had been ringing so long it was bound to stop any second. “Hello,” I answered breathlessly. “I was starting to think maybe you were avoiding me,” she joked, but I detected a seriousness beneath the words. “Never,” I responded firmly, needing her to believe me. It angered me that others had abandoned her, leaving

her insecure and uncertain. A second passed, then two. I heard an intake of breath on her end. “Thanks again for taking me dancing last night.” “It was my pleasure.” Stepping away from the table, I made my way into the family room. Sinking down on the couch, I stared outside. Stars filled the sky, illuminating it in bright yellow light. As my gaze traveled upward, it rested on the moon. “Wow,” I breathed out, taking it in. “What?”

“The moon. It’s perfect tonight.” It was one of those bright crescent ones I loved. I know most people were in awe of full moons, but I liked when the moon looked the way it did in pictures. In every book I read as a child the moon was depicted in crescent form. So when I saw one like that, it gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling inside. “Do you see it?” “I’m heading toward the window right now. I had been sitting on my bed.” “Is it the same one you had as a kid?” The question was bold, maybe too

bold, but I was curious. “No.” she laughed lightly. “Thank god. The one I had growing up was a trundle bed, complete with a ruffled, pink bedspread.” “What’s wrong with that?” I bantered. “Nothing if you’re a kid,” she responded before I heard a small gasp at the back of her throat. “Oh, you’re right. The moon is breathtaking right now.” I settled into the couch, content that she had the same reaction I had. It made me feel even closer to her than I had before.

Closing my eyes, I listened to her deep breathing, and I imagined she was beside me. I conjured up the feeling of her lips against mine. For so many years, I had fantasized about kissing Lennie. It seemed unfathomable that I actually had. I wondered if she would let me do it again. “Lennie?” “Yes,” she answered. “Can I take you out again?” “As long as it’s not dancing,” she said. I chuckled. “Yeah, I think we’ve established that dancing isn’t our thing.”

“Not even a little bit,” she agreed. “But at least I can check it off my bucket list.” This perked my interest. I sat up straighter, my legs chafing on the couch. “You have a bucket list?” “Oh, no. It was just a saying.” “Maybe you should make one,” I suggested. “That’s a little bit too cliché, don’t you think?” She was right, of course. And nothing about Lennie was a cliché. I thought she was when we were younger.

At least it appeared that she was exactly like every other pretty, popular girl in the world. As if she could’ve been cast in some teen movie. But now that I’d gotten to know her, it was clear that she marched to the beat of her own drummer. Much like I did. And it was one of the things I liked about her. “I like the idea of being spontaneous,” she continued. “Of doing what feels right in the moment.” “And what feels right in this moment?” “Sitting here staring up at the

perfect crescent moon, and talking to you.”

11 The bookstore was my favorite place. There was something so soothing about being surrounded by books. As a kid I would run down the aisles, excitement pulsing through me. My fingers would fly over the colorful spines, trembling with anticipation. I’d pick up book after book, carefully reading the synopsis. And when I’d finally chosen which ones to bring home, I’d be giddy, knowing that my next adventure was right around the

corner. At least that’s how it went when Mom took me. When Ray took me, I’d have to be fast. Many times I’d grab books off the shelf without even reading the back. He had no patience, and he’d loom over me, tapping his foot repeatedly on the floor while staring pointedly at the watch wrapped around his wrist. As an adult I didn’t spend nearly enough time in the bookstore. Mostly because I couldn’t afford to. Certainly not now that I wasn’t working. Then

again, I didn’t make much money working part time at the record store either. I had recently sold two freelance pieces to online magazines, along with a book review, and I’d received the money from those sales this week. I needed to use the money for food, but on my way to the grocery store I found myself turning toward my favorite bookstore. Now that I was inside, I knew I’d made the right choice. The grocery store never made me this happy. In fact, it was safe to say that

grocery shopping stressed me out. I never knew what to buy, and the prices were so high I almost had a heart attack every time I had to pay. I knew I couldn’t live off of books. I’d have to hit the grocery store after this. And I couldn’t spend all my money here. But I could browse. Maybe even buy a book or two, but that was it. I’d maintain self-control. Something I’d never been good at when it came to books. After entering the bookstore, I went straight for the mystery section and

began perusing some of my favorite authors. Several of them had come out with new books since I’d last read theirs. My pulse quickened when I held the books in my palms. As I calculated the prices in my mind, my gaze traveled over to a row of books to my left. Above it was a sign reading “Romance.” Folding my fingers around the books I’d been looking at, I ambled over to the romance section. Scanning the shelves, I took in all the glossy covers featuring couples in the throes of intimacy. I tried to imagine my book sandwiched

between all the others. What would the cover look like? My heart skipped a beat at the thought. I envisioned myself standing next to the shelf holding up the book bearing my name. People would flock to me wanting an autograph. For once I’d be the center of attention for something other than being ridiculed. For once people would look up to me instead of down on me. An older lady made her way down the aisle plucking books off the shelf. She glanced at me curiously as if

wondering what a guy was doing in this aisle, and suddenly my daydream went up in smoke. Would people look up to me? Or would they think it was weird that a guy wrote a romance novel? As my gaze swept the spines of the books in front of me, I realized that almost all of the authors were women. But then I remembered Lennie saying that Nicholas Sparks was her favorite author, and my panic subsided a little. Besides, when I told Lennie I was writing a romance novel, she didn’t scoff at that. She didn’t judge me or

laugh at me. In fact, she praised me. Breathing deeply, I released the doubts that threatened to overtake me. Reaching out, I grabbed a couple of novels off the shelf. Reading the back covers, I thought they all sounded very similar. I glanced over at the elderly lady. She had a stack of romance novels in the crook of her arm. “Ma’am,” I said. She jerked, her eyes widening. Did she think I would hurt her? I backed up, taking a non-threatening

stance. It didn’t seem to make her any less agitated, but I pressed on. “I’m um…looking for a book for my girlfriend. She loves books with happy endings. Can you recommend any of these?” Her shoulders visibly relaxed. I wondered what had softened her. Was it the reference to a girlfriend? Did that make me seem more approachable? I’d never used that word before. Well, not since college. Maybe that was why I hadn’t. It was because that had ended in disaster.

Man, I hated Amelia for bringing that up. I had successfully repressed those memories, and the last thing I wanted was to dredge them back up. The truth was that I wasn’t sure it was appropriate to use the word “girlfriend” even now. Lennie and I were dating. We’d even kissed. But was she my girlfriend? I wasn’t sure. “Sir?” The woman stared at me, a wary expression on her face. Her winkled jowls quivered as she pursed her coral lips. Her face kind of reminded me of a coloring page that had been

colored in by a toddler. All of her makeup was outside of the lines setting into her wrinkles and creases. She held up a book. “This author is really good. And all of her books have an HEA.” “HEA?” Was that some kind of text speak? I wasn’t too adept at that. Then again, I doubted Grandma was either. “A happily ever after,” she explained. “Oh. Right.” Not text speak. Romance novel speak. Got it. I took the book. “Thanks for your help.” I set the

book on top of the mystery ones I’d already chosen. “I hope she likes it,” the woman said. “Me too.” With my finds, I headed to the register. After paying for the books, I ambled out into the cold night. As I walked to my car, the books called to me from inside the bag, beckoning me into their stories. But there was something I had to take care of before I could travel inside the pages of the books. After I got in my car, I threw the

bag of books on the passenger seat and started the engine. When I pulled out of the parking lot, I turned in the direction of the grocery store. But I felt myself being yanked in a different direction, and before I knew it, I’d passed the grocery store and was heading the opposite way. It only took a few minutes to reach her house. I parked across the street, and turned off the engine. Her house was dark, all of the curtains closed. But there was one window that glowed with soft yellow light. The curtains were drawn, but not all the way.

It was open enough that I could see inside the room. Just a sliver, but enough to catch a splash of a bed, a corner of a dresser. My breath caught in my throat when Lennie came into view. She stood in between the gap in the curtains, staring up at the sky. She had on no makeup, and her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. She looked beautiful. Radiant. Unmoving, I stared up at her. When her gaze bounced down to the street, I slid down in my seat until I was hidden. I didn’t know why I did it. When

I first drove here, I planned to knock on her door, give her the book. But now I wasn’t so sure that showing up unannounced was a good idea. She was clearly preparing for bed. The pink tank top she wore looked like something you’d wear when you went to sleep. The last thing I wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. As badly as I wanted to see her, to give her the gift, I knew it wasn’t the right time. So instead, I watched her until she securely closed the curtains. I sat perfectly still in my car until her light went off, leaving the entire

house dark. Then I grabbed the book and emerged from the car. With large strides, I made my way across the street. It had rained earlier today, so the pavement was slick under my tennis shoes. The scent of damp asphalt filled my nostrils. I hurried up the walkway, my fingertips brushing the rose bushes that lined it. When I reached the stairs leading up to her front porch I was careful not to make a sound. Every time the stairs creaked, I froze, wincing. But once I was convinced no one had heard me, I

continued on. When I reached the front door, I bent down, placing the book on top of the welcome mat. Standing up, my knees cracked. Taking a deep breath, I peered down at the book. Smiling, I imagined how happy Lennie would be when she discovered it in the morning. I may not have been able to see her face when she received the novel, but maybe this was better. Whirling around, I scrambled back to my car. Then I sped down the street, leaving Lennie’s house and the book with the

happy ending behind.

12 The coffee shop was busier than usual for a Tuesday. Not only that, but there was a group of women who kept cackling in the corner. I mean, I was okay with talking, even the occasional laugh. But the sheer volume of these women made me wonder if they thought they were at a bar with loud music playing in the background. Normally I could write even in the noisiest of situations, but today I was having

trouble. Every guffaw, every screech reverberated through my body until I felt it at the back of my mouth like sour candy. Fishing inside of my bag, I searched for a pair of earbuds. When I didn’t initially find them, I worried that I had left them at home. I didn’t often use them when I left my apartment. Mostly because I liked to be aware of my surroundings when out in public. But right now the earbuds were essential. Dipping my hand in further, I made one last ditch effort to find them. Relief

flooded me the minute my fingertips lighted on a cord. Looping my finger around it, I yanked it out. After plugging one end into my laptop, I pulled up my iTunes page and chose a playlist. Then I shoved the earbuds into my ears and allowed the music to dull my senses. I had been writing for several minutes when a shadow cast over me. At first I ignored it, thinking it was a patron waiting for a coffee. But when the shadow didn’t move, I looked up. At the sight of her, a smile stretched across my face.

Her lips moved, but I couldn’t make out the words. I held up my finger signaling for her to give me a minute. Then I pulled out my earbuds and discarded them on the table. “Sorry about that.” “It’s okay.” She shook her head. “Sorry I interrupted. It looks like the words were really flowing.” Spoken like a writer. “That’s okay. Seeing you is better.” Her cheeks flushed. Dropping the romance novel I bought her on the table, she said, “This was from you, right?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Are there other guys that you suspect would leave a romance novel on your doorstep?” “Nope.” She shook her head. “Only you.” Sweeping her hand down to the chair across from me, she raised her brows. “May I?” “Of course. You’re always welcome at my table.” She grinned and sat. “You know you didn’t have to leave the book. You could’ve knocked.” “You were in bed when I came by,” I lied.

“How do you know?” There was a teasing gleam in her eye. I shrugged. “I guessed. The house was dark. It was late.” “Oh.” She pointed to the book. “It’s really good.” “You already read it?” I knew she was an avid reader, but this had to be some kind of record. “Not all of it. But I read the first chapter.” Reaching out, she traced the letters on the glossy cover with her fingertips. “Have you read it?” “No. I actually never even heard

of it,” I said. “I was at the bookstore last night and a woman in the romance aisle recommended it. Said it had a happy ending.” Her smile deepened. “Then I know I’ll love it.” The clouds moved outside allowing the sun to peek through and it shone in the window. Haloing Lennie’s head, it gave the illusion that she was an angel. Today the scarf she wore was silky, an array of pastel colors. It reminded me of spring. The barista called out a name, causing me to flinch. It also reminded me

that I needed a refill, and Lennie didn’t have a drink. I scooted my chair back, almost hitting the chair of the person sitting at the table behind me. Not that the guy would have noticed. He was typing furiously, listening to headphones so loudly I could hear the song. “I’ll go grab you a coffee.” “No,” Lennie said vehemently. “You’ve already bought me enough coffees. I can get my own this time.” She stood, glancing down at my empty mug. “In fact, I’ll get you one too.” I almost argued, but thought

better of it. Clearly this was important to her. And really, it made me feel good that she wanted to do something for me. So far it felt like I was always the one initiating things. But this morning it had all been her. She showed up here. She asked to sit with me. She was buying the coffee. Swiveling in my seat, I slung my arm over the side and watched her. She talked easily with the barista as she placed our order, even seemed to be joking with him. My heart swelled in my chest. She was changing. It was like

every time we were together some of the darkness slipped away, allowing the light to reveal itself. And I liked this side of her. This softer side. This lighter side. This happier side. “Two coffees coming up.” She set a newly filled mug in front of me. The aromatic scent of coffee wafted from it, steam circling. Moving around the table, she held her mug steady in her hand. After placing it on the table, she slid into her chair. While mine was plain black coffee, hers was piled high with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

When she took a sip, whipped cream painted her nose. With an embarrassed grin, she wiped it off with the back of her hand. “You must be feeling well today,” I observed. “I am.” She held the mug in her lap, her index finger running along the rim. I sat forward, my heart picking up speed. “That’s a good sign, right? Maybe this means that the treatments are working; that you’re getting better.” She bit her lip. “It just means I

have good days and bad days. This is a good one.” Nodding, I remembered when she told me not to give her false hope. At the time I hadn’t understood it. Wasn’t hope a good thing? But now I got it. Hope was only good if the thing you were hoping for was possible. From what Lennie had told me, it seemed that getting better was a long shot. Maybe even an impossibility. “So when are you going to let me read your book?” She glanced at my laptop.

“Not yet,” I said. “That’s why I got you that book.” I pointed toward the one sitting in the middle of the table. “To tide you over.” “Meanie.” She stuck out her tongue, stunning me. It was the most playful I’d seen her. My first inclination was to tease her, call her immature. But I didn’t want to taint her good mood. So instead, I chuckled. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m a big meanie,” I joked. “Ask my sister. She used to call me that all the time.” “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Inwardly I groaned, seriously regretting the mention of my sister. Talking about my family with Lennie was not my idea of a good time. One of the things I liked about Lennie was that she was separate from that part of my life. Now I had no choice but to talk about Amelia. “Um…yeah. She went to our high school, but she was a few years behind us.” I paused. “Amelia.” Lennie scrunched up her lips, deep in thought. “Amelia Wilde,” she said slowly. Then her head swiveled back and forth. “I don’t remember her.

Does she still live here?” “No. Her husband is in the army. They live in North Carolina.” “Was her husband from here too?” “No,” I responded, the edges of my lips tugging upward. “Actually he’d never even been to San Francisco until he and Amelia visited last year for Christmas.” I snorted. “He dragged Amelia to all the tourist attractions. You know, Pier 39, Chinatown, Alcatraz.” Amelia was so irritated. She spent her entire Christmas vacation doing the

things we did a million times when we were younger. “That sounds fun.” Lennie’s eyes lit up. “Really?” I reeled back. “You do know that all of those things are here in the city. You can do them anytime you want.” “Yeah, but that’s the funny thing about living somewhere. You take things for granted, and you don’t take advantage of them. I mean, I think I’ve only been to Alcatraz like twice in my life. And I can’t remember the last time I

went to Pier 39.” Neither of those things appealed to me, but seeing Lennie happy did. “Then let’s do it.” “What?” “Pick a day, any day, and I’ll take you to Pier 39 and Alcatraz.” “Really?” “Really.” I glanced outside and then amended my statement. “Well, any day except today, because it looks like a storm is rolling in.” “Okay.” She giggled. “Fair enough.” Reaching forward, she picked

up her coffee and nestled back in her chair. She appeared content, and that satisfied me. I remembered feeling bad for Amelia when she had to traipse around town hitting up all the tourist attractions with Chris. And now here I was preparing to do the same thing with Lennie. But it didn’t seem as awful as I had assumed. Mainly because there was no downside to spending the day with Lennie. But also because I’d do just about anything to make her smile.

13 It was the same dinner as last time. Actually, now that I thought about it, Mom had made the same dinner the last few times I’d eaten with them. It was one of my favorites. Maybe that was why she kept fixing it for me. But at this point, I was kind of tired of it. However, beggars can’t be choosers. And, truthfully, my parents were helping me out a lot right now. Mom especially. Therefore, I’d remain

grateful. So I shoved more of the chicken into my mouth even though my stomach soured. And when Mom shot me glances here and there, I smiled as if I was thoroughly enjoying myself. Besides, my stomach issues probably had more to do with my excitement about tomorrow’s outing with Lennie than with the fact that I was tired of this dinner. It was funny how simply thinking of Lennie got my stomach all knotted up. “Amelia said she talked with you the other day,” Mom’s voice cut into the

silence, sharp, like a knife. “Yeah,” I answered noncommittally, taking another bite. Maybe if my mouth was full of food, she wouldn’t expect me to speak. “That’s nice.” Mom grinned warmly. “I always wanted you two to be close.” Mom had a skewed view of reality. It was like she lived in her own world. A world full of smiling faces, kind gestures, sunny skies, and sweet smelling flowers. But at least she was always happy.

Ignorance is bliss, right? That’s why instead of correcting her, I simply agreed. “Yeah, it is nice, Mom.” To my right, Ray scraped his fork against his plate. I felt the sound at the back of my teeth, like nails on a chalkboard. When I looked up at him, his lips were curled into their perpetual frown, his gaze fixated on his food. “Oh, I finished the last chapters you sent me,” Mom said, and my head snapped in her direction. “It’s so good!” She clapped her hands the way she did

whenever she got excited. “Thanks, Mom.” I could feel Ray’s eyes on me, so I didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic. Real men didn’t get all giddy the way women did. But inside, my heart lifted. “When do we get to meet the girl who’s inspiring you?” Mom leaned over, nudging me with her elbow. It was supposed to be harmless, affectionate even. But every jab felt like a punch. Like she was bruising me. I half-expected my skin to turn black and blue. “What are you talking about?” The

scraping ceased. Ray’s arm was still. Only this subject could make him stop shoving food into his face. “C’mon, honey, it’s clear that you have a muse,” she said the word “muse” as if she’d recently learned it. “Nope. No muse. Just my own imagination,” I responded, not daring to look up at her. “The way you write about the main character, it’s like she’s real. There just has to be someone,” Mom insisted. Ray slammed down his fork with such force, Mom and I both flinched.

“Stop trying to push the boy. If he says there’s no girl, then there’s no girl. And let’s thank our freakin’ lucky stars. We all know what happened the last time.” Mom’s face reddened. “No, you stop!” she yelled back, shocking us both. Mom never spoke like that to anyone. Definitely not Ray. My back went rigid, my shoulders tensing. I was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. “That was a long time ago, and it wasn’t Colin’s fault. It was that girl’s….” she shook her head as if it pained her to think about it. After muttering something unintelligible

under her breath, she lifted her chin. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Colin is a wonderful man. And he deserves to be happy.” Her lips quivered, and she took a deep breath. Then she turned to me and smiled, the mom I was familiar with returning. “I just want you to be happy, son.” As uncomfortable as I was with the entire conversation, I was grateful to Mom for defending me. She’d always been my defender. My comforter. The only one in my corner. And apparently I needed someone to defend me since I

was too chickenshit to do it myself. It should’ve been me getting on Ray for bringing that up tonight, but I’d always been too scared to argue with him. However, Mom was right. I was an adult now. A man. And what happened was in my past. I shouldn’t have to be reminded of it all the time. I sighed. “I know, Mom. Thanks.” Ray grunted, shaking his head as if sickened by the whole display. Mom patted my hand. As if it was the last straw, Ray shoved away from the table, threw down his napkin and stomped out

of the room. “Don’t worry about him,” Mom said in that same innocent, overly cheery voice. “You and I both know the truth about what happened, and that’s all that matters.” Well, one of us did anyway.

14 The first time my family made the trip to Alcatraz I was a small child. Amelia tormented me the entire trip, threatening to lock me in one of the cells so I’d be stuck on the island when my family rode the boat back to the city. Now I knew how stupid I was to believe her. There was no way I could get locked in. The prison wasn’t up and running, and tours went through that place all day. But in my naïve little boy mind, I did think it

was possible. It was one of the many times my imagination became my enemy instead of my friend. For weeks after that trip I had nightmares about prison cells, metal bars caging me in, darkness, cold water, hungry sharks. I heard the click of locks, the slamming of doors, the slap of the waves, the cackling of my sister. And I’d wake in a cold sweat, my pulse racing. “You okay?” Lennie’s voice pulled me back to the present. “Yeah,” I lied, swallowing hard.

Leaning against the railing of the boat, I stared out at the choppy waters. Oddly enough, it calmed me. Lennie stood beside me, her shoulder brushing mine. Breathing deeply, I inhaled the salty air. The cool breeze washed over my face. “It’s a beautiful day,” she said, a smile playing on her lips. Her gaze swept across the waves. “I just love the ocean here. It’s funny, because when I would go to the ocean in Southern California it was completely different. The beaches were sandy and warm, and there were always people there.”

Clutching the railing, she leaned forward. Rays of sun kissed her smooth, pale skin. “But I actually like it better here. I know it’s cold, but I don’t need to swim in it. I’m not even a very good swimmer.” She chuckled. “Rob hated that about me. He grew up in the water.” I turned, leaning my back against the side of the boat, and peered down at her. She was picking at her fingernails, appearing agitated. “What exactly was the story with you and Rob?” A family of four stood behind Lennie, talking loudly. A teenage girl

stood a few feet away taking about a hundred selfies. And in all of them she resembled a duck. I think it was supposed to be flattering, but it wasn’t. Ignoring all of them, I focused on Lennie. I’d been curious about Rob since the first day she told me about him. But I hadn’t found my opening. Now that I had, I didn’t want to mess it up. “Well…” she paused, as if trying to decide where to start. “We met in college. Started dating, fell in love,” she rattled this off like she was giving me stats. I was grateful for that. The less

intimate details, the better. “He proposed a month before we graduated. So after graduation I moved to Southern California with him, and we started planning our future.” Her gaze darted to her feet. “He wanted to be an architect. He was actually interning at a really prestigious firm. And he started drawing up plans for our future house.” The ghost of a smile flickered over her lips. It was fast, like a strobe light. If I hadn’t been looking closely, I would’ve missed it. “He was even going to make me a room to write in, complete with bookshelves

lining the walls. I had been trying to figure out if I wanted to write novels or be a journalist.” A breeze kicked up, and her hands fluttered to her hair as it flew around her face. “One day we were spending the day at the beach, and I noticed I had a lump growing on my neck. I assumed it was some kind of infection, you know? Or just a swollen lymph node. But I went to the doctor the next day. They ran some tests, and eventually told me I had melanoma. I’d heard of it, so I knew it was skin cancer. At first I thought it wasn’t a big deal. I

mean, who thinks they’re going to die from skin cancer, you know?” The laugh got caught in her throat and came out more like she was choking. She took a deep breath, and I placed a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. You don’t have to continue.” I thought about the scar on her neck. The one she kept hidden under her scarves. That must have been where the tumor was. She peered up at me through her thick eyelashes. “I want to. You’ve been so patient with me. But if we’re gonna

see each other, you have the right to know this story.” I didn’t know if I deserved any such thing, but since it seemed important to her, I let her finish. “I assumed they would cut the cancer off my skin, and I’d move on. In fact, my biggest worry at that point was having a scar.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine? How stupid, huh?” “No. Not stupid at all. Just innocent.” When I glanced up, I saw that we were nearing the island. “Naïve is probably a better word,” she said. “Anyway, it wasn’t just

a matter of cutting it off my skin. Melanoma is a very fast-growing cancer, and mine had already spread. But I was still hopeful that I could beat it. Until we found the tumor in my brain, that is. Then it all just seemed like it was too much.” She played with her hands, twisting them. “And I was so angry with myself, you know? I mean, I’d been so stupid when I was younger. Always thinking that how I looked was more important than anything. Did you know I used to go to tanning beds when I was younger? And I never wore sunscreen when I was

out in the sun because I wanted to get tan.” “Is that what caused it?” She shook her head. “I don’t know, but those are risk factors.” Pausing, she inhaled, glancing around. “Anyway, it was after we found the tumor in my brain that Rob suggested that I move back in with my parents. He said they would be able to take better care of me than he could. When I tried to assure him that wasn’t the case, he confessed that he didn’t want to take care of me. That this wasn’t the life he

wanted.” I never liked the guy. Not since I saw his pictures on Facebook. Now I hated him. How could he leave Lennie when she needed him most? “I’m sorry,” I said softly, because I had no idea what else to say. Honestly, no words seemed adequate in this moment. She shrugged. “It probably worked out for the best.” “How do you figure?” “I wouldn’t want him to stay with me out of obligation.” Nodding, I understood. It’s like

how I always felt that Ray only tolerated me. He wouldn’t have chosen me. By marrying my mom he was stuck with me, and he made sure I knew it at every opportunity. The boat slowed as we rode up to the dock. When it stopped, Lennie teetered for a moment. Reaching out, I steadied her with my hand. Once she’d righted herself, I expected her to pull away, but she didn’t. Instead she nestled into me. I tightened my hold, savoring the feeling of her in my arms. As others filed off the boat, I had no desire to

move. I was happy right where I was. Lennie didn’t seem in a hurry either. It wasn’t until almost everyone had exited the boat that we finally moved from our spot. After getting off the boat, we followed the crowd up the hill. Lennie seemed to be struggling a bit, so I snatched up her hand, threaded our fingers together. She threw me a grateful smile as I guided her up to the prison. Once inside, we received our portable audio unit and headphones. Lennie and I put ours on and continued forward.

The disembodied voice began speaking, instructing me on where to start the tour. As I stepped forward, I felt something warm against my palm. When I glanced down I saw Lennie’s hand tucked in mine. I smiled, having a feeling this trip to Alcatraz was going to be much better than my previous ones. The remainder of the tour, I had trouble concentrating on what the tour guide in my ear was saying, because I was too focused on Lennie’s fingers threaded through mine. I was convinced that her skin was the softest thing I’d

ever felt in my life. Softer than silk or a fuzzy blanket or the warmth of the sun. I actually found myself bummed when the tour was over and we had to return our audio units. Only because it meant we had to unhook our hands. When we left the building, the ocean was displayed in front of us, a vast expanse of dark, choppy water. The sun reflected off the water, orange and yellow sparkles dusting the surface. “Oh, it’s so beautiful.” Lennie clutched her chest. “C’mon.” I grabbed her hand,

grateful for the excuse. “There is a trail over here, and we can see out over the whole city.” Grinning, she hurried along beside me. When we reached the trail, we walked it until we found the perfect spot to stop. The sun beat down on us warming our skin, despite the chilly temperature today. Water lapped below us, slapping against the rocks. In front of us was the ocean, and behind that was the city. The bridge, the pier, the tall buildings, the homes. “I love it,” she said.

“The tour or the view?” She sniffed the salty air, and then smiled. “Both. This has been an amazing day.” “Yeah, it has,” I agreed. Glancing back at the prison she said, “You know when we were on that tour, I couldn’t help but empathize with the stories of the prisoners who used to live here. Sometimes I feel like I am in a prison. Like my life is one. And all I want to do is break free, but I can’t.” She glanced up at me, a question in her eyes. “You know?”

I actually did know. Not because I was sick like she was, but because I often felt that way. It was weird to hear it articulated by someone else. “Yeah, I do,” I whispered, slinging my arm over her shoulder. A sound of contentedness escaped through her lips, and she settled into me, snaking her arm around my waist. And there we stood, holding onto each other, both of us wrestling with our own personal demons.

15 As humans, our survival instinct is strong. When death stares us in the face, we fight, we claw, we struggle until our very last breath. It’s why when bodies are found after being murdered, bits of flesh and blood are embedded under their nails. It’s because they wouldn’t go down without a fight. And it’s why cancer patients endure treatments that make them sick and miserable, because they’re hoping it will help them live.

Give them more time on this earth. It’s because they won’t go down without a fight. When I first saw Lennie again, it was clear that she’d stopped fighting. But lately I’d seen a spark in her eyes, a skip in her step, that told me some of her fight had returned. And I wanted to help in any way I could. It was why I had taken to researching melanoma. I had become obsessed with it actually. Day and night I perused the internet, scanning pictures of moles, scars, beaches, rays of sun,

marred skin, tumors. And I read endless articles on the dangers of tanning beds and laying out in the sun, the importance of sunblock and annual screenings. Lennie had admitted that she had tanned, but was it fair for her to die for her decision? No, it wasn’t. But life was like that, wasn’t it? One wrong turn, one too many pills, one extra drink. Life was like a walk across a frozen lake. Some people skated across with no issue, safely making it to the

other side, while others fell in the icy water and had to claw their way out in order to reach solid ground. They were numb, battered, and tired, but they made it. Yet there were still others who fell in and drowned before ever reaching the other side. I knew Lennie had experienced the icy waters. She was numb and frozen, exhausted. I wasn’t sure she had it in her to keep sputtering in the icy waves. That’s why I had to help her. I would pull her from the waters, drag her to safety. And I was sure the answer was

out there. Medicine had come a long way. So I combed website after website, sure that I’d find that hidden lifesaver. I stayed up late most nights, hunched over my laptop, my eyes blurry, my fingertips worn. But it was nothing compared to what Lennie endured, so I continued on. One night as I searched, there was a knock on my door. My head snapped up, my pulse quickening. Visitors weren’t common. For a moment I contemplated ignoring it. But when the knocking continued, I

shoved back my chair and took deliberate steps to the front door. The volume on the knocking increased. “Okay, okay. Hold your horses,” I muttered under my breath, and then wondered when I started using my stepdad’s phrases. Shaking my head, I turned the knob and carefully pried the door open. “Hey.” Lennie stood in the doorway appearing uncertain. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and flipped up at the ends, and her face was scrubbed clean. She wore sweat pants

and a wrinkled shirt, uggs on her feet. “Hey,” I responded, stunned that she was here. But also confused. “How did you know where I lived?” She cocked her head to the side, raised one brow. “You told me.” I didn’t remember telling her, but I must have. How else would she know? Feeling like an idiot for making her stand in the hall, I stepped out of the way to allow her entry. “Come in.” I swept my arm out. It didn’t matter how she got here. She was here. This was huge. “Thanks.” She hugged herself,

her gaze scanning the room. “So this is what a bachelor pad looks like, huh?” Her words were nonchalant, but her demeanor was anything but. I swiftly shut my laptop so she wouldn’t see all the tabs that were open. I wasn’t sure how she’d take that. With my hand resting on the laptop, I leaned into it as if this was the way I stood when trying to be casual. Not sure it worked, but she’d been around me enough to know how awkward I was. If it hadn’t scared her away yet, then I was doing all right.

“What’s going on, Lennie? Are you okay?” Her back was to me, her hands rubbing her upper arms in a swift, agitated motion. When she swung around there were tears in her eyes. Her shoulders shook. I didn’t waste any time before rushing to her. Without waiting for permission, I gathered her in my arms. Besides, I had no reason to think she would push me away. She came here. Clearly she wanted to be with me. “I’m scared,” she whispered into my chest, tears soaking the front of my

shirt. I held her tighter, stroked her hair. It was slightly damp, so it stuck to my fingers, melded into my palm. But I didn’t wipe it off. It didn’t bother me. Sobs racked her body, and my heart pinched. A part of me wanted to know what was going on, while another part of me hoped she never told me. Clearly it wasn’t good. I could only think of one thing that would make her cry like this, and the mere thought of it killed me. After several more minutes of

crying, she drew back and peered up at me. A few strands of hair adhered to her lashes, like spiderwebs weaving over her face. She blinked rapidly. Reaching down, I gently tugged them free. Then I slowly rubbed my fingertips over her tears, wiping away the traces of them. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and my heart fluttered in my chest like a caged bird. Its wings rippled along my insides. I brought my hands up, tunneling them through her hair as I titled my head downward. She lifted herself up on her tip-toes, clutching me tightly around my

waist. Our lips brushed lightly. Once. Twice. Like the whisper of pages in a book as they’re turned. Her lips were moist and tasted like salty tears. I licked along them, savoring the silkiness. Then I pulled my tongue back and pressed my lips delicately to hers. I didn’t want the kiss to be intense. Not like our last one. No, this one needed to be soft, slow. I wanted to feel every caress, every touch. I wanted to memorize it; tuck it away for later. But mostly, I wanted to erase her pain. Take away her sadness. Breathe it

in. Inhale it. Bury it deep. After a few more tender kisses, I exerted slightly more pressure to her top lip. Strands of her hair wove around my fingers as I massaged my hands into her scalp. When my bottom lip pressed down firmly, a low moan sounded at the back of her throat. This spurred me on. I kissed with more fervor, my tongue escaping my mouth and tangling with hers. She tasted like something sweet strawberries, sugar, candy. I couldn’t place it, but it made me dizzy. Or maybe it was the kiss that was making me dizzy.

Her hands were moving from around my waist, her fingers teasing the bottom of my shirt. When they slipped beneath it, I inhaled sharply. Not just because they were ice cold either. Mostly because I loved the feeling of her hands on my bare flesh. I wasn’t fit, or even in shape. My chest was not rippled with muscles the way her ex-fiancé’s was in their pictures. In fact, it’s safe to say mine may have even been concave. But the way her palms and fingers explored every inch of it made me feel like it was something special. Something

to be treasured. She skimmed my flesh until goosebumps rose on my skin. Until I felt as if I would burn up from the inside out. Our kiss became more manic, her breathing erratic. I untangled my fingers from her hair and trailed them down her neck and arms. When I got down by her waist, I imagined sliding my fingers under her shirt, the way she had done to me. My fingertips buzzed with anticipation. In my mind, I envisioned what the skin on her stomach would look like. What kind of bra she’d be wearing.

My heart pounded in my chest so loudly it was hard to focus. Gathering courage, I touched the edge of her top. Then I froze. I couldn’t do it. Not tonight. Not when she was so sad. I yanked my hand back as if her shirt was on fire. As if sensing the shift in my mood, Lennie’s lips tore from mine. She dropped her hands and stared up at me wide-eyed. Her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling violently.

Lifting my hand, I cupped her face. “Tell me what happened tonight? Why are you so sad?” She bit her lip, and it took all my willpower not to kiss her again. “Tomorrow morning I have to go in for an MRI.” That was it? The confusion I felt must have registered on my face, because she said, “The MRI is to find out if the treatment is working. If my tumor has shrunk.” Stepping back, she ran a hand through her hair. Now it practically stuck straight

up. I watched as it eventually fell back into place. “I’ve been feeling better, and so I’ve started to tell myself that it’s because I am getting better. That the tumor is shrinking. But tomorrow is the moment of truth. I’ll know for sure. So if it’s not shrinking, I’ll have to face it. I won’t be able to live in blissful ignorance anymore.” “Yeah.” I reached for her, tugging her back to me. “But if it has shrunk, then you’ll know for sure that you’re getting better.” “True.” Her lips wavered. “I

know it doesn’t seem rational, but I was just overcome with fear tonight. I couldn’t shake it. I was just sitting in my room at home, feeling so anxious and overwhelmed. It was the same way I felt when I first found out about the cancer.” She shook her head. “It was so weird because I haven’t felt that way for so long.” “What changed now?’ Her gaze crashed into mine. “You.” “Me?” “Yeah.” She rested a hand on the

edge of my waist. “You’ve given me something to live for. You’ve given me hope.” My insides warmed. Drawing her close, I wrapped my arms around her. “Can I stay here tonight,” she murmured into my chest. “I don’t wanna be alone.” Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded, my chin rubbing against the crown of her head. “Thank you,” she responded in that soft, lyrical voice of hers. She

pulled back, wiping her eyes. A yawn escaped through her heart-shaped lips. I wasn’t ready for her to go to bed. I wanted more time with her. “Wanna watch some TV?” “Sure.” Together we made our way to the couch. I plunked down, reaching the remote. Lennie sat on the other side, tucking her legs up under her body. I flicked on the television, and it roared to life. The commercial blared so loudly, I hurriedly turned down the volume. Why did commercials always have to be so

much louder than the actual show? Not knowing what she liked, I held the remote out to her. “Here. You pick something.” She grinned, tentatively taking the remote. “Wow. Rob never let me have the remote. He was scared I’d choose some mindless sitcom, or even worse, a reality show.” The more she talked about this guy, the more I disliked him. “I’m good with whatever you choose.” Settling back against the couch cushions, she flipped through the cable

menu before choosing a rerun of Friends. “Is this okay?” Not that she needed my approval. I meant what I said. She could watch whatever she wanted. But I knew that wouldn’t be good enough for her, so I nodded. Holding the remote in her hands, she looked at me with a quizzical expression. “Do you need to work?” “What?” The question came out of left field. “It seemed like when I got here that maybe you’d been writing beforehand. I don’t want to take you

away from your writing time. You can go work on it if you need to.” I glanced back at my laptop, the lid securely closed. Guilt racked me at the memory of what I was actually doing when she got here. Not that it was wrong. Researching a successful treatment for Lennie was nothing to be ashamed of. But the truth was, that I hadn’t really been working on my book lately. It had taken a backseat to Lennie and her disease. I had gotten so far in the book, but the last week or so I’d been distracted.

However, tonight wasn’t about my book. It was about Lennie. “No, I don’t have to write,” I answered her. Wearing a satisfied grin, she leaned forward and set the remote down on the coffee table in front of us. It was then that I realized how cluttered it was. Magazines, empty soda cans and crumpled up pieces of paper were strewn across the glass top. My face heated up with embarrassment. I was about to stand and swiftly clean it up when Lennie scooted in my direction.

She leaned up against me like she wanted to cuddle, and I froze. This night kept getting better and better. Adjusting my position, I curved my body so it fit against hers. Sighing, she rested her head against my chest. I dropped my arm, clutching her to me. For awhile we watched the show. Sometimes she would laugh or giggle. But pretty soon she was still and quiet, her breathing even. Her eyes closed, her lashes resting on her porcelain skin. I didn’t have the heart to move, afraid I would wake her. So I

watched her sleep until I started to get tired myself. Then I rested my head against the side of the couch and closed my eyes.

16 I awoke to sounds of a scuffle. Grunting, punching, hitting, flailing, screaming. And it wasn’t coming from upstairs. My eyelids flipped open, my heart rate kicking into high gear. The noises were loud, close. In this very room. Once my eyes focused and my gaze had swept the area around me, my heart slowed, relief washing over me. It was only the TV. Why had I fallen asleep on the couch with the television going? I never did

that. Feeling a heaviness on my chest, I peered down. Blue light flickered over the girl lying in my arms. My stomach tightened. Sarah? What was she doing here? Frozen, I stared down at her blond hair, her slender body. I couldn’t see her face because it was turned in the other direction. I found it difficult to draw breath. How was this even possible? It was like she was a ghost sent here to torment me. I needed her gone. I needed to get her out of here before anyone found

out. Strands of her hair were stuck to my hands. What the hell? When I lifted them, my palms were wet and sticky. Was that blood? My pulse pounded at the base of my neck. The sound of gunfire from the television caused me to flinch. I squeezed my eyes shut. No, no, no. This can’t be happening again. Not again. She stirred, murmuring in her sleep. I opened my eyes. Her face was upturned now, her lips parted as she

breathed evenly. Lennie? Oh, that’s right. The memories flooded me of Lennie coming over last night because she was scared about her MRI. I exhaled, my whole body relaxing. Not Sarah. Lennie. Lennie was here. And everything was all right. Satisfied, my heart slowed a little. I stared at Lennie’s beautiful face in the dim lighting, in awe over every little detail. After several minutes exhaustion took over and my head rolled to the side, resting against the cushions.

Eventually I fell back asleep to the soundtrack of Lennie’s even breathing. When I woke up in the morning, Lennie was gone. Vanished, as if she’d never been here. The TV was still on, chatter and canned laughter playing softly. Light spilled in through the windows to my left. My entire body ached from sleeping curled up on the couch. Hoisting myself up to a seated position, I rolled my neck, stretched my arms. Still my shoulders were tense, my back throbbing, my arms numb. Yawning, I stood. With several large

strides, I made it to the TV and clicked it off. Glorious silence blanketed me. I’d never been one of those people who enjoyed unnecessary noise. Growing up I’d had friends who would have the TV going in the background all of the time, especially when they were alone. As if the actors on the shows could keep them company. I didn’t get it. Padding into the kitchen, I passed the table where my laptop sat. It was closed, untouched. My eyes subconsciously scanned the table and kitchen counter for any signs of her. A

note maybe. But there was nothing. The only remnant she left was her scent, which still lingered in the air. I inhaled sharply, savoring it before it could disintegrate. I was pondering why she would leave so early when my gaze bounced to the clock on the wall, and I saw that I overslept. I guess there was no reason to get up early when Lennie was already here. With her in my arms, my internal clock must have shut off. Remembering the medical test she was so nervous for, shame washed

over me. I should’ve gotten up with her. I should have taken her to the hospital. What kind of guy made her go through this alone? Purpose renewed, I got ready as quickly as humanly possible. Then I headed out, racing to the hospital. I had no idea what time her appointment was or even where it was. But I knew she was having an MRI, so I was sure someone could direct me. After parking, I weaved through the lot and walked right through the glass double doors. Once inside, the sterile

scent filled my nostrils. Two nurses walked in my direction, their pants rustling with each stride. I spotted a doctor a few feet away wearing a white lab coat, a stethoscope around his neck. My body went hot, my throat dry. The walls bent around me, the room starting to spin. “Colin, we need to talk,” The doctor said. I shook my head. No, no, no. I don’t want to hear it. Pressing my palms to my ears, I

attempted to block out the sounds, but it was no use. They weren’t coming from outside. “Sir, are you okay?” A woman’s voice cut into my thoughts. I was acting like a lunatic. I had to get out of here. Blinking profusely, I yanked myself back to the present. The room came into focus. It was still blurry at the edges, though. I took large gulps of air to combat my shallow breathing. “Sir?” The woman repeated. “Yes!” I practically shouted.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Spinning around, I blindly staggered outisde. It wasn’t until I was safely at my car that I felt my chest expand and air fill my lungs. I wanted so badly to be there for Lennie, but I couldn’t. Not if it involved the hospital. Anything else she needed, I was her guy. But not this. Not now. Not yet. Hell, maybe not ever. It may have been a long time ago, but the memories were fresh, ripe, as if it had just happened. Weird how certain events were like that. Instead of dulling over time, they became more vivid.

With shaking fingers, I turned on my car. Then I pulled out of the lot. As I drove away from the hospital, I had to alternately wipe my palms on my thighs because they were so slick they couldn’t grip the steering wheel. Not sure if I could make it all the way home, I parked along the curb outside of the coffee shop. I didn’t have my laptop, but it was all right, because I wasn’t sure I was in the right frame of mind to work anyway. Perhaps a coffee would settle my nerves. I knew it sounded odd, since coffee was supposed to amp you up. But I’d found

that coffee could do both for me. Give me energy when I was tired, but calm me when I was anxious. Besides, I figured Lennie might stop by the coffee shop after her appointment. If that was the case, I wanted to catch her. To find out how it went. To console her if need be. So I went inside and ordered a coffee. The largest size they had. Then I sat at a table in the corner. Leaning back in the chair, I stared out the window and sipped the coffee. I forced myself to think of other things. Anything besides

the memories that threatened to overtake me. I honed in on the wind as it brushed the window, at the signs that waved in the breeze from the building next door. I listened to the women talking at the table behind mine as they complained about their husbands. They went on and on about how their husbands didn’t help enough with the kids, how they didn’t do dishes or put the toilet seat down. It was nauseating, really. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I tuned them out. Instead, I focused on the whir of the espresso machine, and the names the barista

called out, some unique and different, others predictable. Like a coffee connoisseur, I allowed the coffee to linger on my tongue, attempting to detect all the flavors the menu boasted of – citrus, chocolate, floral. And pretty soon, the sick feeling that had taken root in my belly when I set foot in the hospital finally waned. I didn’t feel scared or worried. I felt safe and calm. Finishing up my coffee, I watched the glass doors waiting for Lennie to step through them. She never did, and eventually I gave up. It had been

hours since she left my apartment, so I assumed her test was over. Most likely she’d gone straight home. Reaching into my pocket, I fished around for my phone, deciding to give her a call. But my phone wasn’t in either pocket. Thinking, I pictured it sitting on the kitchen table next to my laptop. Crap. What if she’d been trying to reach me? Standing up, I felt like a failure on so many levels. I’d promised to be there for Lennie, and yet today I hadn’t been there for her at all. After leaving

the coffee shop, I headed for home all the while thinking of ways to make it up to her. When I reached my apartment the first thing I did was check my phone. There were no missed calls. This should have bothered me, but honestly it didn’t. It was better this way. Now I could show her that I’d been thinking about her all on my own. Not simply responding to her call. After dialing her number, I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hey, Colin,” she answered,

sounding tired. “Hey,” I responded. “How did it go today?” “Fine.” “Yeah?” I pressed, wanting more. “Yeah,” she said in a tone I couldn’t read, and it caused my stomach to knot. “I mean, I don’t know anything yet. I won’t for a couple of days.” Ah, okay. “You were gone when I woke up.” “You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”

This made me smile. “But you should’ve. I would’ve gone with you.” It was a lie, but she didn’t have to know that. No reason for her to know all the ways I’d failed her today. “I know, but it was fine. Nothing I haven’t done before.” The hopelessness in her tone made me sad. Darkness blanketed me, her statement driving it all home. She shouldn’t have to do it. She should be able to live her life. To enjoy each moment. But cancer was robbing her of that. Her full-time job was to keep

herself alive. That’s all she lived for. And it didn’t seem fair. I didn’t understand why some people had to go through this. Why her? Why any of us? I doubted I would ever receive the answer to that question, and that only made me angrier.

17 It was several days before I saw her again. I had thought about calling her many times, but didn’t. I figured she needed her space. When she was ready, I knew she’d reach out again. That moment came early on a Friday morning. I was at the coffee shop writing when she marched in and promptly sat down at my table. Nervous energy radiated from her so strong, I wasn’t sure if I should bask in it or move far away.

“I have news,” she said, not indicating whether it was good or bad. I was afraid to ask. So I stayed silent, lips pressed together, waiting for her to continue. Leaning forward, she dropped her hands to the table between us. Then she smiled the largest of grins. One that would have frightened me if it had been on anyone else’s face. “The tumor is shrinking!” “What?” It was so much better than I’d ever expected. I mean, I’d heard of this happening. In fact, in all of my

research on the experimental drug she’d been using, there were many success stories. But for every success story there was also a person who didn’t respond to it. “Yeah.” She rubbed her palms together in excitement. “The treatment is working.” “That’s amazing.” “I know.” Reaching across the table, her hands found mine. We linked our fingers, and I squeezed hard. “I had been hoping…you know…” her eyes shifted around, as if she had confessed to

some major crime. “But I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Didn’t want to be crushed if it wasn’t working. Plus, I’d been having headaches and stuff. And then there was that time when I almost passed out. All signs seemed to point to the tumor growing, not shrinking.” “But it isn’t growing,” I reminded her. “It’s shrinking.” She nodded, her eyes sparkling. I never wanted that sparkle to go away. I didn’t want the light to dim. “Let’s go out and celebrate.” “Now?” Her eyebrows raised.

I wanted to say yes. It may have been morning, but some people celebrated in the morning. Often when I passed the pub on the way home from writing in the coffee shop there were men and women already enjoying a beer or cocktail, and sometimes it was as early as ten am. However, the truth was, they didn’t look like they were celebrating. More like they were medicating. “Tonight,” I said, my mind made up. “I’ll pick you up and take you out for dinner and drinks.” Pausing, I thought over the sad amount of money I

had left in my bank account. But then I tossed caution to the wind. This was a huge deal. It had to be celebrated. Tomorrow I’d take a break from my book and work on an article or review I could sell now. And worst case, I’d call Mom. But not today. Today was all about Lennie. “Like a date?” Her hesitation gave me pause. Weren’t we already dating? She’d spent the night at my house, hadn’t she? We’d gone out multiple times. I was the person she was seeking out with her good news.

“Is that a problem?” “No.” I sighed with relief. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but then closed it, subtly shaking her head. “Um…no, that’s fine.” Her lips curved upward in such a genuine way it made me think maybe I’d misread her earlier hesitation. “I just wanted to make sure I knew what to wear.” Oh, so that’s all it was. I sighed with relief, buying her words, even though deep down I knew there was

more to it than that.

I took her to The Bay Steakhouse and Bar, a place I’d heard about but had never been to. It was supposed to be the kind of place you went for an anniversary, birthday, special occasion. In the past there was never a reason to try it out. Tonight I had a reason. Lennie looked amazing, and I told her at least ten times on the drive to the restaurant. For the first time since

we’d reconnected, she didn’t appear sick at all. Her cheeks had the rosy glow of a healthy person, her hair was shiny as it cascaded over her bare shoulders, and her eyes were alive, as they took in everything. Lennie was like that. She was the kind of person who was always looking around, always observing. But beneath the curiosity there was usually another emotion. Resentment, maybe. Envy, possibly. Anger, definitely. It was as if in everything she saw she was reminded of her mortality. Of the fact it could be gone as quickly as the blink of

an eye. But tonight I didn’t see that. I saw curiosity and wonder, contentedness. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that Lennie would one day be cancer free. I’d done enough research to know that wasn’t even possible. But I did know that if the tumor was shrinking, the treatment was buying her more time. And from the look on Lennie’s face, I’d say that more time was exactly what Lennie was banking on. We were seated at a small round table in the back corner. A crisp, white

table cloth covered it, and a small candle glowed in the center. I held a chair out for Lennie, and she scooted into it. In her black sleeveless dress she looked like she was made for this type of restaurant. Self-conscious, I yanked on my collar. I’d dressed appropriately in a pinstripe collared shirt and black dress pants, but both of them were years old and didn’t fit me as well as I’d like. I hoped Lennie didn’t notice. After scooting in her chair, I went around the table and took my seat. The busboy filled our glasses with water and set a

basket of bread in the middle of the table. Lennie eyed the bread, but didn’t reach for it, so I pushed the basket in her direction. “Have some,” I offered. “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to get full on the bread.” Opening the glossy menu, my gaze scanned it, my stomach tightening. After taking in the prices, I was thinking that getting full on bread might be the way to go. But I swallowed down the thought. This was Lennie’s night. It was

worth any price. When I glanced up, Lennie’s face was obscured by the menu. Our waiter approached the table and introduced himself. Then he asked what we’d like to drink. This was the part of the night I was dreading the most. When I chose this restaurant, I did so with the intention of ordering a nice bottle of wine. They were known for their wine selection. However, I knew nothing about wine. I rarely drank it. And when I did, I chose based on affordability, not taste. Staring at the

wine list wasn’t helpful because I had no idea what to look for. What was the best? Oaky? Sweet? Peppery? My gaze met Lennie’s, and I nodded. “Do you have a preference?” I asked, hoping she would know what to order. But she shook her head. “You choose.” Great. As if sensing my hesitation, the waiter asked if I’d like to talk with the sommelier. I had no idea what a sommelier was, but I took him up on his

offer. It seemed like the right thing to do. The waiter left, and Lennie smiled at me from behind her menu. “Do you know what you want?” I asked her. She nodded. “I’m thinking about the salmon.” The salmon had sounded good to me too, but the pasta dishes were cheaper, therefore I’d probably go with one of those. “Good evening.” I peered up at the man approaching our table. “I’m Trent, the Steakhouse’s sommelier.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Trent Wheelhouse?” His eyes widened as he studied me. “Colin Wilde?” Reaching out, he slapped me on the shoulder. “How ya been, man?” “Good,” I responded. “So this is what you do now, huh?” Trent had been a partier in high school. I’d heard rumors about him getting drunk every weekend. But I guess it worked out for him if he got a job working with alcohol. Trent’s gaze slid over to the other side of the table, and they widened

further, shock evident. “Lennie Samson?” “Hi, Trent.” Smiling, her lashes fluttered. Man, she was stunning. I could tell Trent thought the same thing, and pride welled in my chest. Honestly, I couldn’t have planned this night better if I tried. “I’d heard that you were a sommelier, but I didn’t realize you worked here. That’s a pretty big deal.” “Yeah, it is,” he agreed. Looking at me, his eyebrows shot up. “So you two, huh?” He pointed back and forth between us.

“Yep,” I answered smugly, but not too smugly, because Lennie was watching. Trent raised his brows in appreciation, giving me that look guys gave each other to show that they were impressed. “Well, this calls for a celebration, and I know just the bottle.” Smiling, he spun around. “I’ll be right back.” When he left, Lennie set her menu down. On her face she wore a pensive expression that concerned me. This was supposed to be a night of

celebration. “You okay?” I asked. “Yeah.” Fidgeting, she bit her lip. “Um…I just… I kinda need to tell you something.” She leaned forward, appearing agitated, and warning signals blared in the back of my head. I desperately wanted to put the brakes on whatever she was going to say. Things had been going so well. Too well, in fact. I guess that should’ve tipped me off. Things never went this well for me. “Here it is.” Trent stood beside our table, holding out a bottle of wine.

As he opened it, he touted off all of its stats – the kind it was: Zinfandel. Where it was from: some winery in Paso Robles. Truth is, I wasn’t paying that much attention. Mostly I was searching Lennie’s face, trying to figure out what she had been attempting to tell me a few seconds ago. But more than that, I was conjuring up a plan to keep her from saying it tonight. To keep her in celebratory mode with me. As Trent poured the wine into glasses, the deep purple color swirling inside, Lennie excused herself to the

bathroom. Once she was out of earshot, Trent nudged me in the side. “Lennie Samson?” He said, incredulous. “How’d you manage that?” I bristled. “I didn’t manage anything. We just struck up a friendship, and then I asked her out.” He seemed to mull over my words. “Last I heard she was sick or something.” “Yeah, she is,” I answered quietly. “Oh.” His face grew serious as he took in my words. Then he shrugged.

“Well, I guess it makes sense now.” He set the bottle in the middle of the table. “Anyway, it was good to see you. Enjoy your dinner.” My face flamed, my hands fisting at my sides. He’d said the words flippantly, as if they weren’t piercing daggers. As if they wouldn’t tear me apart. But they did. Trent thought the only reason Lennie was dating me was because she was sick. But that wasn’t true. Was it? When she returned, I sat up straighter, took a deep breath.

Reaching forward, she picked up her glass. Her slender fingers folded around the stem as she lifted it to her lips. When she took a sip, deep purple stained her mouth. “Hmmm. That’s amazing,” she said. I relaxed a little as she continued to enjoy her wine. Her whole demeanor shifted, as if whatever was weighing her down left the minute she went to the restroom. Not bothering to question it, I picked up my own glass of wine and took a sip. I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to taste like, but it wasn’t bad.

And it calmed me a little, warmed my insides. Pretty soon, we ordered our dinners, drank more wine and talked about fun stuff like books and life in the city. Never again did Lennie bring up whatever it was she had tried to tell me at the beginning of the evening, and eventually I forget about it altogether. If only I could’ve prevented the topic from ever resurfacing.

18 Lennie changed after that night at dinner. At first it was subtle. She became a little quieter, more reserved. But then it was more obvious. She came into the coffee shop less often, stopped returning my phone calls. I wanted to ask her about it, but the words died on my lips, stuck to my tongue, got lodged in my throat. I felt them every time I swallowed. They hid between my teeth, cowered near my tonsils.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened to me. I knew what it looked like when a woman had second thoughts. Our relationship had been too good to be true from the get-go. A fantasy come to life. Her behavior now wasn’t surprising. Still, I held onto the hope that I wouldn’t lose her completely. That hope had started as a minuscule thread. It was now frayed and tattered, barely hanging on, but I clutched it in between my fingers so tightly that my knuckles turned white with desperation.

In the past, my eagerness caused girls to walk away, and I was determined not to do that this time. Therefore, I didn’t push Lennie. Instead, I gave her what she needed. If she sought me out, I was available, but only to the degree that she invited me. Sometimes it was a simple chat over coffee, or a walk in the park, or a short phone call. I’d taken to wooing her through books again. She enjoyed the first romance novel I’d bought her, so I picked up a couple more by that same author and left them on her doorstep.

This thoughtful gesture earned me a visit one morning as I was working at the coffee shop. I couldn’t afford to buy her anymore books, so I grabbed a few more choose-your-own-ending novels from the box in my parents’ garage. It aroused some suspicion from Ray, though, which forced me to have a very uncomfortable conversation I would’ve rather avoided. I’d been getting out of family dinners as much as possible since Lennie and I started dating. It was easier that way. Then I didn’t have to dodge

Mom’s leading questions, or outright lie to her when she begged me to tell her about my love life. About my muse. And I didn’t have to squirm under Ray’s intense gaze, so bright it was like the lights in an interrogation room. But I needed to get Lennie those books, and I knew I couldn’t show up and ask to go in the garage after declining all of Mom’s dinner invitations. Besides, it would get Mom off my back, so I figured it was killing

two birds with one stone. And, actually, dinner wasn’t so bad. Mom kept her pestering questions to a minimum. And Ray seemed so focused on his food he barely noticed me. Also, it helped that Amelia had been sick that week. It was most likely just the flu, but I could tell my parents had been worried, and Amelia’s health status colored much of our conversation. It irked me a little, only because Amelia’s bout with the flu paled in comparison to Lennie’s cancer. But I was grateful that it took the spotlight off of me, even if only

temporarily. Once I’d survived dinner, I asked Mom if I could retrieve more of my books from the garage. She gave me the okay, and then went to do dishes. I assumed Ray had gone into the family room to zone out to some stupid sitcom. That’s why I was shocked when he entered the garage as I was down on my knees perusing my box of old books. The garage was already dimly lit with only a spray of light coming from a lightbulb that hung precariously from the ceiling. But once Ray’s large frame

filled the doorway leading into the house, the light was practically swallowed whole. Ray’s shadow cast over me, blanketing me in darkness. I shivered. He took a few steps, his boots stomping on the concrete. Ignoring him, I continued rifling through the books. I silently hoped that he was retrieving something for Mom. Maybe she broke something while cleaning up and Ray was grabbing a tool to help her. But when he loomed over my shoulders, I knew that wasn’t the case.

“What have you got there?” He asked the same way he used to when I was a kid and had gotten into something I shouldn’t have. “Just looking for something,” I answered. “What is it?” My patience was wearing thin. Sighing, I stopped searching and craned my neck, peering up at him. “Clearly, I’m looking for a book.” I expected him to scold me for my condescending tone, but instead he raised his eyebrows, his gaze darting to

the box. “What’s your sudden interest in your old books?” “Just reminiscing, I guess.” Ray shook his head. “Cut the bullshit, Colin, and tell me what’s going on.” I recoiled from his harsh tone. “You might have your Mom fooled,” he continued. “But I know something’s up. You’re not acting normal.” I snorted. “You mean, I’m not acting like you.” My fingers lit on the book I needed, and I yanked it out. Then

I stood up, wiping dirt from my knees. “News flash, Ray, I’m not like you. I never have been.” “Oh, trust me, I know,” he answered gruffly. “You’ve always been strange, but right now you’re even more strange than usual.” I bristled at his statement. Pretending it didn’t maim me, I shoved the box back on the shelf and patted Ray on the back. “Nice talking to ya,” I said sarcastically before attempting to slide past him. But he grabbed my arm. “You

better get your shit together, son. I’m not bailing you out a second time. No matter how much your mom begs me.” Angry, I tugged my arm back. I always knew it was Mom who made him help me all those years ago. She had told me he wanted to, but I knew better. Still it stung that he admitted it. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to bail me out this time.” “There better not be a reason to,” he snapped. “Chill,” I hissed. “There’s nothing going on.” “I really hope you’re telling the

truth.” His eyes narrowed. “For your mom’s sake. She can’t survive it again.” Blowing out an annoyed breath, I shook my head. Then headed back inside the house, leaving Ray and his unsavory opinion of me in the garage. But enduring my stepdad’s hurtful words ended up being worth it once I gave the books to Lennie. She read them swiftly, and then we spent the day together discussing them. And I started to believe we had turned a corner. That she’d gotten past whatever

issue had been plaguing her. That we could move forward with our relationship. But then I saw him, and all of my hopes vanished, snuffed out like a candle when the wick burned out. It was then that I knew the truth.

19 I never thought a simple trip to the grocery would be my undoing. But it was. The errand was unavoidable. I’d been putting it off for days living off of mac and cheese and frozen dinners. But even those were gone now, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t drum up a meal with the ketchup, butter and soda sitting at the back of my fridge. Growing up we didn’t always

have a lot of money. Ray worked odd, manual labor jobs, and Mom stayed at home. But she made the food stretch, often whipping up meals with whatever food she could find in the fridge. However, I was certain even she couldn’t have made anything with what I had. Therefore, I sucked it up and headed to the store. It was nighttime, and the air was dark and cool. It smelled like damp asphalt as I made my way through the parking lot, my head down since I walked against the wind. It whisked

over my head, causing my hair to lift from my scalp. Leaves skittered on the ground as if they’d come to life, sprouted feet. Headlights from passing cars painted my body, and their tires kicked up water from nearby puddles. It had been raining earlier, but now the rain had stopped, leaving a gentle mist in the sky. Shivering, I hurried forward. The cart I grabbed was slick and wet, and it took a couple of tries before my fingers successfully gripped the handle. When I got inside, I was momentarily blinded by

the fluorescent lighting. I hated fluorescent lights. They made me dizzy. As I rounded the corner, the produce section coming into view, my front wheel started squeaking. Of course. Just my luck. Shaking my head, I blew out a breath. I didn’t have a list. I never did. Usually, I threw in things that sounded good. Mostly, cheap, easy meals. Frozen food, boxed pasta or rice dishes. Rarely did I venture into the produce section, but today I found myself wandering over to it. As I passed the lettuce, the spigot

above it turned on, spraying the vegetables with water. Lennie knew a lot about nutrition. She was careful with what she ate, choosing fresh vegetables and fruits, organic meats over processed foods. We’d had discussions about it, and she’d even teased me about what she called “my bachelor diet.” I knew that she needed to be mindful of what she ate because of the cancer, but I suspected she’d been a healthy eater even before getting sick. Even when we were teenagers she ate salads in the cafeteria.

And, from what I’d gleaned in our conversations, she’d always been a person who enjoyed the outdoors – hiking and bicycling. I could stand to care a little more about my health. Let’s face it, I wasn’t getting any younger. Besides, lately I’d been self-conscious about my body. I think it had to do with the fact that Lennie was pulling away. I was sure it had nothing to do with that night at my house, but I couldn’t help but worry that she’d changed her mind about me after feeling up my less than stellar chest.

After dating guys who were buff and fit, I must have been a disappointment. Above the vegetables, were prepackaged salads. I grabbed a couple of them and threw them into my cart. It’s not that I was naïve enough to think that eating a couple of salads would transform my body from lanky to muscular. But it couldn’t hurt. Leaving the produce area, I headed down the aisles I was familiar with. Rows of boxed meals, organized neatly on the shelves. I found comfort in the order of them. Some song that was

popular back when I was in high school came on, and visions of the old Lennie filled my mind. Lost in my daydream, I slowly pushed my cart down the aisle. It was when I was reaching for a box of macaroni and cheese that I first saw him. He stood a few feet in front of me tossing a bag of rice into a nearby cart. Then he scanned the shelf as if searching for something else. I’d never met the guy, but I knew instantly who he was. With the amount of time I’d spent studying his pictures, it felt like I did know him. That was why my face

flushed the minute his head swiveled in my direction. I imagined that he knew who I was. That he knew I’d stalked his Facebook and Instagram account. That I’d coveted his life. But he didn’t even notice me. His gaze slid past me as he continued looking for something on the shelf. I started to wonder if I was invisible when he mumbled an “excuse me.” I moved out of his way, clutching the box of macaroni and cheese in my hand. What was Rob doing here? Not just here in this store, but here in this

city. Glancing over at his cart, my stomach knotted. Fruits and veggies filled the space. It looked exactly the way I’d imagine Lennie’s cart to look if she were in this store. Were these groceries for her? My whole body went hot. He found what he was looking for and closed his fist around it. Before he could turn around and spot me gawking at him, I spun the other direction and pretended to be shopping. Behind me I heard the shuffle of his

shoes on the slick linoleum, the sound of the box as he tossed it into his basket. Then I listened as he pushed his cart away from me. I noticed that his wheels worked fine. It seemed fitting. Guys like him lived a charmed existence. At that point, I should’ve left. I had enough food in my basket to tide me over for at least a few days. But my curiosity got the better of me. I had to know what he was doing here. More importantly, I had to know if he was with her. So I followed him. I stayed a

safe distance so I wouldn’t arouse suspicion. He only bought a few more items, but I took note of them. Tried to analyze if I thought they were for Lennie or not. In the end, I didn’t know. By the time he went to pay, I realized how silly this whole thing was. I didn’t need to follow him around to know why he was here. He lived in Southern California, and yet he was shopping in a grocery store in San Francisco. There could only be one reason for this. Lennie. Finally giving up, I paid for my groceries and

headed outside. It was raining again, so I stopped under the awning to put down my hood. Raindrops pelted the awning above me, so loud it sounded like a herd of cattle stomping around. Large, black clouds rolled overhead, dark and ominous. Rob stepped out of the store and stopped next to me. I had assumed he was also putting on his hood, but I was wrong. Instead, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Faintly I could hear a song playing. It was one I’d heard before, but couldn’t place. Probably a

popular one they played on the radio a lot. I never knew those. He pushed a button on the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey, baby,” he said, and I froze, holding my breath. “Yep, I’m leaving right now.” When he paused, I pretended to be cinching my hood. Then I fished around for my keys as if I was busy preparing myself for walking into the storm. But really I was eavesdropping. “I know. It’s really coming down. But I’ll be there shortly.” Another pause. “Okay. See ya soon, Lennie.”

That was it. The final nail in the coffin. Subtly, I peered over at him. He still hadn’t noticed me, but that was okay. He’d notice me soon enough.

20 That night I dreamt of Sarah. Of her long, almost white hair. Of her slender fingers and dainty wrists. Of the soft spot on the back of her neck and that one blue eye that always seemed to stare at me. She called me, beckoning me over. But when I reached her she morphed before my eyes, changing like the reflection in a funhouse mirror. Tears raked down her face, her hair was matted with blood. When she opened her mouth, it stretched

in a grotesque way. Daggers in the form of accusations shot from her mouth, pierced my soul. I awoke in a cold sweat, my pulse pounding beneath my dampened flesh. Sitting upright, I took large gulps of air as if I’d been drowning, held under water for a lengthy period of time. As if I couldn’t get enough. My sheets slipped from my upper body, gathered around my waist. The curtains were open, and I stared out at the night sky. My gaze found the moon. Tonight it was full, and I shivered.

Full moons made me nervous. I imagined men all over the city transforming into werewolves. Docile men who wore suits and carried briefcases shed their clothes, sprouted hair and fanged teeth. Men who were unassuming, who were picked on and bullied became savage beasts. Wolves who preyed on the unsuspecting. Who roamed the city hiding in the shadows and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They would be taken seriously now. Not the same way as when they were in human form.

When I was a kid, I swore that I saw them crouched behind buildings, their silver eyes shining in the moonlight as they bared their sharp teeth. Reaching forward, I swiftly closed the curtains, covering the window. Darkness enveloped me, but I felt safer. Sliding down in my bed, it creaked beneath me. Lying my head back on the pillow, I sighed, knowing I’d never fall back to sleep tonight. It would be too hard. I’d already struggled at the beginning of the night, thoughts of Lennie and her ex swirling through my brain.

But now that Sarah was in the mix, there was no way I could silence my racing thoughts. Lennie had asked me about Sarah recently. It was one of the times she showed up at the coffee shop to thank me for leaving a book. We were discussing the story when she looked at me with those large, unblinking eyes and said, “Colin, have you ever been in love?” I was taken aback by the question, and it took me several minutes to answer. Mostly because I knew I couldn’t be completely honest. I think I

fell in love with Lennie the first time I saw her. But I couldn’t say that. Not just because it would scare her away. Mostly because it was corny and cliché. I may not have been a big muscle-bound guy, but I was intelligent, and I liked to think that was one of the main reasons Lennie was drawn to me. I wouldn’t screw that up by saying something that made me seem immature and naïve. So instead I blurted out, “Yes. Once. Her name was Sarah.” “And how did you meet?” Lennie’s elbow was propped up on the

table. She leaned her chin into her hand, raised one eyebrow. Since I was so happy that Lennie was here with me and interested in what I had to say, I didn’t stop to think about the ramifications of continuing on with this conversation. “In college.” “What happened?” In a flash, everything hit me. The details. The memories. The truth. And I froze. I never should’ve brought Sarah up. I wasn’t supposed to. Lennie had successfully broken down my

defenses, but this was one area I couldn’t afford to be vulnerable. This was something I had to take to my grave. Feeling like an idiot, I shook my head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” She nodded with understanding. “That’s okay. Some break-ups are really hard. I get that.” Looking back, I should have known Rob was back in the picture. Every time she mentioned him it was clear she was devastated over the breakup. It was also obvious that she wasn’t over him. Not only that, but she had been

trying to tell me something over dinner. Now I was pretty sure I knew that that something was. Subconsciously, I think I knew at the time. It was why it scared me. Why I tried to avoid it. Now that I’d seen him, there was no way to keep on living in denial.

I was starting to think I was literally invisible. It was the superpower I’d wished for the most as a kid. But I never actually thought it would happen.

Two days after seeing Rob in the grocery store, Lennie came to the coffee shop. I was seated at my usual table, laptop open, a cup of steaming coffee sitting near my left elbow. But she didn’t acknowledge me. She simply swept past heading to the counter and ordering her usual vanilla latte. I sat back in my seat watching her through my unruly hair. It had been months since I’d cut it, and it now hung all the way to my ears. When I bent forward, it fell over my face like a curtain. My parents had been giving me hell about it for weeks. Maybe that was

why I hadn’t fixed it, but today I felt stupid for the tiny act of rebellion. I mean, no wonder Lennie went back to her ex. I looked like a homeless person. Pretty soon Lennie would be saving me her pastries. She stood against the back wall waiting for her coffee, bouncing her leg the way she did often. I expected her to scan the shop, to search for me. It’s not like she didn’t know I was here. I was always here, and she knew it. But her gaze never left the pick-up counter. It was like her eyes were supernaturally

glued to it. When they called out her name, she headed to the counter and snatched up her coffee. I had a strange sense of déjà vu as she hurried toward the glass doors as if she had every intention of leaving without speaking to me at all. Anger rose in my belly. It was one thing for her to choose him over me, but it was another to ignore me. Were we back in high school? Before she could leave, I stood abruptly. Too abruptly. My table teetered, my coffee almost falling over.

Reaching out, I grabbed it just in time, but my back hit my chair, sending it to the ground. It clattered loudly. At first I was embarrassed, but when Lennie whirled around I was grateful for the mistake. Our eyes met. My body stilled. I scarcely breathed, waiting for her to say something. Anything. But she didn’t. She glanced down at the offending chair, then back at my table, as if making sure all was well. Reaching down, I yanked my chair back up, but kept my eyes on hers. She seemed to stare right through

me as if I was a ghost. As if she had no idea who I was. It chilled me to the bone. “Lennie?” I finally croaked, my entire body feeling like a block of ice. She cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, hi Colin,” she said, as if noticing me for the first time. “Are you all right?” I asked, concern taking root in the pit of my stomach. What was wrong with her? “Yeah.” Nodding, she walked toward me. With her free hand she reached up and touched her temple. “I

have a little headache, but I’m hoping this will help.” She held up the white paper cup. Warning bells went off in my head. Her gaze flickered to my laptop. “You working?” I nodded. “I hope it’s going well,” she said in a formal way. Was this the way things were going to be between us now? And was she just going to sweep what we had under the rug? End it without coming

clean? She looked at me, confusion clouding her face. “You okay? You seem upset.” I almost laughed out loud, but I held it in. Instead I said, “I know Rob’s here.” She recoiled. “How?” “I saw him at the grocery store a couple of nights ago.” Pink appeared on her cheeks. “How did you even know it was him? You’ve never met.” “I’ve seen his picture…on your

Facebook page.” “Oh.” She bit her lip, her gaze darting around. Not that she had anything to worry about. No one was listening. Everyone was in their own world, chatting on their phones, texting, typing on laptops, waiting for the coffees. “Right. Facebook.” Her tone held a sour note, and I understood completely. It seemed she had the same affinity for social media that I had. “Are you guys back together or something?” She pressed her lips together, as

if choosing her next words carefully. I liked that about her. How she didn’t blurt out the first thing she thought. Most girls did. That had been one of Sarah’s problems anyway. “Um…I don’t know.” A strand of hair slipped into her face, and she brushed it back. “Him coming here was unexpected. I didn’t invite him. He just showed up. Said he missed me.” “And did you miss him?” I had to know. “Yeah, I guess I did,” she said softly. “You have to understand. We were together a long time. We lived

together, we made plans for the future.” “And then when things got tough, he left you.” “I know.” She frowned. “I don’t know how to explain this to you, Colin. Rob and I have a connection.” And we don’t? It’s what I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I didn’t dare. Rule of thumb is to only ask questions that you know the answer to. “I guess I have a lot of thinking to do,” she continued. Swallowing hard, I nodded. She shifted from one foot to the

other. “Um…I need to get going.” She pointed over her shoulder using her thumb. “Appointment?” “Uh-huh.” I wanted to offer to go with her, but I wasn’t sure I could take the rejection now. Besides, even if she said yes, I was pretty sure I’d never be able to brave the hospital. Clearing my throat, I offered up the most encouraging “Good luck” I could muster. “Thanks.” Her gaze lifted to mine briefly. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah.” I sat down, returning my attention to the word document up on my laptop. There was no way I could watch her walk away. It would be too difficult.

21 When I was eight years old, Ray left me alone at a gas station. Mom was out of town visiting her aunt who was ill. It was the only time she left my sister and me overnight. Ray took us out to dinner and on the way home had to stop for gas. I had drank way too much soda at the restaurant and couldn’t hold it any longer. So while Ray pumped gas, I told Amelia I was going inside to use the restroom. After getting the key from the

cashier, I trekked around the back of the gas station to use the small, dirty bathroom. The light kept flickering, giving the illusion that it would go out at any minute. I remember feeling scared, and I scolded myself for being a baby. After returning the key, I headed out the glass door. It dinged as I pushed it open. When my gaze landed on the empty spot where Ray had parked at the pump, my stomach dropped. I scoured the gas station, certain they were still here somewhere. But after another minute of looking, it was clear that they

had left. I didn’t understand. Hadn’t Amelia told him where I went? Thinking about how mean Amelia had been earlier this evening, I wondered why I had trusted her at all. We’d been fighting all night. She probably thought this was funny. Most likely she was sitting in the backseat laughing to herself at this very moment. But I knew Amelia. She’d feel guilty and then tell Ray what happened. And even if she didn’t, I was sure that Ray would notice my absence at some point. Amelia and I were both sitting in

the backseat together, but Ray would have to look back there, wouldn’t he? Or at the very least, he’d notice I was gone when they got home. And we didn’t live that far away. So I sat on the curb and waited. I fought against the fear that crept up in my throat by reciting stories in my head. Too bad I’d been reading Brother’s Grimm Fairytales lately, so all the stories I remembered were scary. However, there was one about a boy who didn’t know how to shudder, and I told myself that one over and over,

praying that I could be like him. A boy who wasn’t afraid. But as the minutes passed and Ray still hadn’t returned, fear spread throughout my body like an infectious disease. It poisoned my blood, sank deep into my bones. I’d given up hope of ever being picked up when a truck pulled into the station. An older gentleman got out. When he spotted me, he made his way over. “You okay, son?” he asked. I told myself to keep it together, but it was a losing battle. Tears slid

down my cheeks, and my lips trembled. “You need some help?” He bent down until he was at my level. Mom had always told me not to talk to strangers, but this man seemed harmless, kind even. It was something in his eyes. Something I instinctively trusted. So I nodded. “I need to get home.” Without batting an eye, the man offered to take me home. As he hoisted me up into his truck, I felt no fear at all. If I had known what was about to happen, I would’ve been more scared

than ever before. When I think back on that moment, I want to warn that little boy. I want to shake some sense into him. I want to take him by the hand and steer him far away from that truck. But hindsight is always twentytwenty. And in this life, we don’t get doovers.

I wasn’t expecting her. Not after our last conversation. I felt like she made her position pretty clear. In fact, I’d been

imagining her traipsing around town with her burly boyfriend. And I kept trying to tell myself I was happy for her. That all I wanted was for Lennie to be happy, loved. But that was a lie. It wasn’t all I wanted. As selfless as I pretended to be, deep down I was selfish. I was still that scared little boy sitting in front of the gas station. The one that was terrified of being alone. Of being left. That’s why I was shocked when she showed up at my front door the night after our talk in the coffee shop.

“Can I come in?” She asked, her gaze not quite meeting mine. Nodding, I moved out of the way to let her pass. She walked inside, much like the last time, looking frail, unsure, a little timid. “I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday,” she started, still not looking directly at me. Her gaze shot around the room as if it was a fly that was afraid to land. “I…um…I guess I wasn’t really ready to talk to you about everything. I felt confused, and…I don’t know.” She paused, breathing deeply. “I’ve really

enjoyed our time together, and I didn’t know if I was ready for it to end. But I also love Rob. We’ve been together a long time. And we’ve been through a lot.” It was obvious where she was going with this, so I steeled myself. Her gaze bounced to mine. She looked at me head on for the first time since walking inside. “But you’re right. He wasn’t there for me when I needed him most. You were.” She stepped forward, bridging the gap between us. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t upfront with

you from the beginning. That I didn’t tell you he was here. I understand if you’re upset with me.” “Where is he now?” I interrupted her. “Gone. He went home this morning.” The floor flew out from beneath me. “Does this mean?” It seemed too good to be true. “That you…well… you’re choosing me?” “If you’ll have me. I mean, I know I’ve been acting strange and--” Curving my hand around her

cheek, I drew her to me and stamped my mouth over hers, silencing her words. I didn’t need to hear anymore. She had chosen me. That was all that mattered. I kissed her hard. Harder than I ever had before. But she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she responded with the same amount of vigor. Her hands slid up my spine, tangled in the ends of my frayed hair. I brought my other hand up to frame her face and deepened the kiss. Our tongues engaged in a sensual dance, their moves manic and desperate. We kissed until my lips were swollen, until I felt

dizzy. Then we disengaged, our foreheads falling together. Our breathing was loud and labored as it mingled together. “I’m sorry about everything,” she finally said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I told her firmly. “I understand why you were conflicted. I even understand why you didn’t tell me.” I picked my head up off her sweaty forehead. “All I care about is that you’re here. I only want to be with you, Lennie. That’s all that matters to me. Don’t you

know that by now?”

22 “Colin, I have some good news,” Amelia practically shouted into the phone. Wincing, I drew it away from my ear. I figured it was something important. She’d called multiple times in the last few days. I finally called her back today because Mom told me too. Apparently Amelia was never too old to tell on me. “What is it?” I asked. “I’m pregnant.”

“Again?” I knew it was the wrong thing to say the minute the word left my mouth, but it was too late to shove it back in. “People are known to have more than one kid.” Amelia spoke in an exasperated tone. “Mom and Dad did.” “Right. Well, congratulations,” I said, wishing I’d started with that. “Thanks. Remember when I thought I had the flu last month? Well, apparently it wasn’t the flu. It was morning sickness.” Amelia’s flu. How could I

forget? It was all Mom talked about for weeks. “Ah, that makes sense.” “Yeah, but I’m so glad about the way it turned out. Chris and I are really excited. I’m hoping for a girl this time.” I could see Amelia with a girl. It would suit her. “Okay….um…well…I hope that’s what you get,” I stammered. Was that something you should hope for? I honestly thought you were just supposed to wish for a healthy child. I mean, it’s not like you could control what sex your child would be. “So, how are you?” The change

in her tone made me uneasy. I had assumed she would hang up after telling me her news, but clearly I wasn’t that lucky. “I’m fine.” “Book’s coming along well?” “Yep.” “How have you been feeling?” I froze, my limbs going numb. It was a question she hadn’t asked me in a long time. “Why the sudden interest in my health?” “I’m your sister. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.” “Mom put you up to this?”

“No, she didn’t put me up to this. But Mom and Ray are both concerned about you, Colin.” “They don’t need to be.” I sat forward on the couch, dropping my head into my hands. “Well, they are. We all are.” “There’s no reason for it.” “So you’re taking care of yourself then? Seeing a doctor and everything?” My skin crawled at the suggestion. “I don’t need to see a doctor. I said I’m fine.”

“Colin, you know you need to take this seriously. Your health is important.” I snorted at the ridiculousness of this. “Since when do you care about my well-being?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Man, she had the victim act down. She had since we were kids. Mom and Ray may have fallen for it, but I certainly didn’t. “Where was all this concern the night you let Ray leave me at the gas station?” “What?” She paused. “You mean

when we were kids? God, that was ages ago. I had completely forgotten about that.” Must be nice. That night destroyed me. I’d never forget it. “Of course, because you weren’t the one left.” “Oh, c’mon. It was just a prank. You made it home fine.” I made it home, but I was far from fine. “It was a dick move, Amelia.” She huffed into the phone. “I hate how you do this. You always want to bring up the things in my past, but god

forbid anyone mention Sarah.” “Watch it, Amelia,” I hissed. A door slammed above my head, loud voices following it. Great. The neighbors were at it again. “See,” she pointed out smugly. “No one can even utter her name, but you bring up our past sins all the time.” She paused, her breathing filling the line. “God, I don’t want to fight with you, Colin. That’s not why I called. I just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be an uncle again. That was it.” It felt weird to use the title

“Uncle.” Wasn’t an Uncle someone who babysat and took the kid out to the park, taught him to play ball? I’d only met her kid a couple of times. The first time Amelia shoved his infant form into my arms I had stared down at his large head and unblinking eyes and thought that he looked like an alien. Within seconds he started screaming bloody murder, so I hurriedly gave him to my sister. The second time I’d seen him was during their Christmas visit. He’d watched me warily from across the room. I think I said like two words to him.

“I’m happy for you, Amelia,” I finally said, figuring that was the response she was hoping for. “Thanks,” she said. “You, of all people, know how much I’ve always wanted a big family.” Did I know that? I guess I did remember her babbling on about having a lot of kids. Then again, Amelia was always rambling about something. I wondered if Lennie had dreamt of having children. If she’d fantasized about having a big family. It seemed like girls thought more about that kind of stuff

than guys did. So that’s why I asked Lennie about it later that afternoon. It was an unseasonably warm day. The sky was a cloudless blue, the sun shining down. After days of rain and wind, it was nice. I took Lennie out to the park. We sat on a blanket over the grass, allowing sunshine to wash over us. “Of course,” she responded. “I think every girl dreams of being a mom. It’s like what we’re supposed to grow up to be.” A wistful look passed over her face. Resting back on her elbows,

she stared up at the sky. “I used to fantasize about having a little girl. I could paint her nails and braid her hair.” Her lips curled upward a bit. “It would’ve been nice.” I placed my hand over hers. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I never should’ve asked you about that.” I’d been curious, but now it felt insensitive. Leaning over, she nudged me with her shoulder. “Nah. I like that you ask me what you’re thinking. That you don’t always worry about saying the

wrong thing. Most people do. They spend so much time worrying about what to say that they hardly say anything at all to me. It gets kind of lonely. Besides, I don’t want to be treated like a fragile piece of glass. Like I’m going to break at any minute. I may have been like that when I was first diagnosed, but now I’m stronger. A lot stronger than people think.” “I know you are.” Smiling, she dropped her head onto my shoulder. Her hair tumbled down my arm. It felt good. Holding my

breath, I didn’t move a muscle. It was one of those moments I wanted to capture. If I could make time stand still, I would do it now. With Lennie, times like this were fleeting. Therefore, I wanted to savor every second. I squeezed her fingers and lowered my cheek until it brushed against her head. Her fruity scent spun around me, the warmth of her body penetrating mine. A bird circled in the air as if it was a vulture who mistook us for a dead carcass. Further down on the grass, a kid and his dad flew a kite. Its bright colors flipped around in the

breeze, painting the sky. A dog ran ahead of its owner, while another couple sat under a tree a few feet away, cuddling. Even though there were others out here, it was peaceful. Besides, my attention was solely focused on Lennie. Her words knocked around inside my head. The ones about her being stronger than people thought. I wondered if the same could be said about me. Would my family be surprised if they saw me here with Lennie? If they knew how much I’d been helping her? That I’d been her shoulder to cry on, the

person who held her up when she couldn’t stand. I knew they all thought I was weak. That I was spineless, a coward. But I’d endured more than they knew. Not that I’d ever get credit for it. But maybe that was okay. Perhaps being what Lennie needed was enough. Maybe this was some sort of penance. Either way, I wouldn’t take it for granted. “What are you thinking about?” I’d been so lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t even noticed Lennie had sat up

and that she was staring directly at me. “You look so serious.” “I was just thinking about how brave you are.” Color spilled across her cheeks. “Really?” “Really.” I nodded. “I don’t know if it’s really bravery. I mean, this just happened to me, and I have to deal with it. You’d do the same thing in my situation.” I wanted to tell her then. To tell her that I knew what she was going through. To tell her the truth about me,

but I couldn’t. I knew it would feel good to get the words out, to finally talk about it, to get it out in the open and off my chest. But I’d been holding it in for so long, living in blissful denial, and I didn’t know if I was ready for that to end. “No,” I finally said. “Trust me. I wouldn’t deal with it as well as you are.” “That’s very kind of you to say.” If only she knew how untrue that was. Kind is the last word anyone would use to describe me.

23 Lennie was getting stronger, healthier. Sometimes I even forgot she was sick. The color returned to her cheeks, her eyes were bright and sparkly, and she’d put on some weight. She didn’t pull away from me as often as she did in the beginning. There were still moments when I lost her. When her face clouded over and her mind seemed to drift a million miles away. As if she had the ability to travel outside of herself. I was

never sure where she went, and I never asked. Instead, I waited patiently for her to return. Unlike when we first started dating, I knew she would. She always came back. That was something I could count on. It was weird to count on something. Someone. I hadn’t expected her to stick around. Hell, I had thought for sure I lost her to Rob weeks ago. But here she was lying in my arms as we sat on the couch late at night watching some sappy chick

flick. I’d watched more TV in the last few weeks than I had in my entire life. For being such an avid reader, Lennie surprised me with how much she enjoyed movies and television shows. My novel would surely be finished by now if I hadn’t taken so much time off to spend with Lennie. But I knew I’d never regret this time with her. And not because I worried her about her dying on me any minute. No, that wasn’t a concern any longer. It seemed that Lennie had gotten a second chance at life. We knew it wasn’t

forever, but we were taking it a day at a time. Not thinking too much about what tomorrow would bring. But on days like today, it was easy to think that she had many more tomorrows. Earlier she’d felt so well that we went on a hike, wrote our name in the sand, took pictures of trees and plants, and, best of all, of each other. She looked radiant with the sun behind her, sweat glistening on her forehead, her hair splaying across her face as it was tossed about by the breeze. Turning away from the

television, she peered up at me. Smiling lazily, she lifted her hand and traced the stubble lining my chin. Then her fingers moved up further to touch the ends of my hair. “Are you growing this out for a reason?” One side of her lip curled upward. I chuckled, loving when she was like this – bantering and teasing. It reminded me of the old Lennie. “Yeah. The reason is that I’ve been spending all my time with you and haven’t had time to go get it cut.”

Giggling, she sat up. Her face was inches from mine. Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on my mouth. Just a swift one. Then she pulled back. “It’s kinda sexy.” My lips stretched into a large smile. “Really?” “No.” She laughed. “We need to cut it.” Sliding off my lap, she beckoned me forward with a roll of her index finger. “C’mon.” “What are you up to?” “What’s wrong? You don’t trust me?” She waggled her eyebrows.

I shook my head. “No, I trust you.” “Then come on.” Reaching forward, she grabbed my hand and yanked me to a standing position. I followed her like a dog on a leash. And the sad part was, that I was okay with that. Honestly, I’d follow Lennie anywhere. She guided me into the bathroom, then opened the cabinet and perused through it. “You got any scissors?” “You’re going to cut my hair?” I was incredulous.

“What did you think I was bringing you in here for?” Honestly, I had no idea. I was blindly trailing her. But instead of admitting that, I reached into the cabinet and found the scissors. “Here you go.” Narrowing her eyes, she inspected them. “A little dull, but I guess they’ll do.” She set them down on the counter and turned to me. Bringing up her arms, she ran her fingers through my hair. Her fingernails raked over my scalp, sending tingles down my back. Her eyes collided with mine. “This will

never do,” she said, her breath hot against my lips. “I need your hair wet.” I inhaled sharply. The intensity in her eyes, mixing with the words she uttered, caused me to feel dizzy. Reaching forward, I clutched the counter to steady myself. A seductive look passed over Lennie’s features. Stepping into my chest, she pressed her lips to mine. Her fingers tangled in the strands of my hair as her tongue slipped between my lips. The kiss was different than before. More charged. And it felt like it was precursor to something more. Like

the appetizer before the meal. Untangling her fingers from my hair, she slid her palms down my neck and chest. When she got to the bottom of my shirt she clutched the edges and yanked it up to my chin. Tearing her lips from mine, she whispered, “Lift your arms.” I did as I was told, and she tugged the shirt right off my body. Then she peppered kisses down my neck and across my chest. Desire burned through my body. With a wink, she moved around me, reached into the shower and turned it on. Water blasted into the tub,

steam curling around our faces. Standing in front of me wearing a smile, Lennie’s fingers found the button on my jeans and unhooked it. My pulse raced. When her fingers slipped beneath the elastic of my boxers, I bit my lip. My pants fell to the floor as her mouth found mine once again. Her hand lowered into my boxers, her fingers sliding further down. A hiss escaped from my lips. Black spots filled my vision, darkness bleeding in and threatening to take over. I tried to fight it, but it swallowed me whole, pulling me

under like a strong current. My heart hammered in my ears, and I felt sick. No matter how hard I attempted to stay calm, panic gripped me. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. “Colin?” Lennie breathed. My eyelids flipped open. But it wasn’t Lennie. It was him. The man from the truck. Terrified, a low moan made its way up from my throat and filled the room. I shoved him away and hugged myself, collapsing onto the ground. “No, no, no,” I repeated, just as I had that night when he touched me. When his

fingers went to places they shouldn’t. “Colin, it’s okay.” “No, it’s not,” I repeated. “I don’t want this. I don’t want this. Please, stop.” “I have stopped. I’m so sorry.” It was a woman’s voice. Not a man’s. I blinked until the room came into focus. Until the darkness receded. “Lennie?” Oh, my god. What have I done? She knelt beside me, concern etching her features. But not just concern. There was fear in her eyes too.

The shower was beating down behind me, the bathroom filling with sweltering heat. My pants were around my ankles, my shirt discarded on the floor. I pictured his truck, his meaty hands. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, willing the memories away. “Colin, I-I-I I was just being playful.” She swallowed hard. “I-I thought…” the words trailed off, her lips quivering. “No, I’m sorry.” Reaching out, I gently touched her face. “I don’t know

what came over me.” “Colin?” She paused, searching my eyes. “What happened to you?” My gaze dropped to the floor. Her finger tucked under my chin. “Please tell me. I don’t want to scare you like that again.” I could feel the words inching up my esophagus and scratching the back of my throat. They burned as they clawed and raked their way across my tongue. I imagined the sweet relief I would feel if I allowed them to spill free, so finally I gave in.

“When I was eight years old, I was raped.” It was the first time I’d said the words out loud. And it filled me with a courage I’d never felt before. So I continued. I told her everything. About the man picking me up in his truck, about how he drove me into the middle of nowhere, and how he did things to me that are unimaginable. Afterward, he threatened to kill me if I ever told. Not that he needed to even say that. There was no way I’d ever tell people what happened. It was too shameful. Too embarrassing. Too awful.

Then he drove me home. Dropped me off down the street from my house. Ray chewed me out for leaving the car at the gas station, and he made me promise not to tell Mom about any of it. Late that night Amelia heard me whimpering in my bed, and teased me for being such a baby. That was the night I first felt hate. Not just for the man who hurt me, but for Ray, and for Amelia. But mostly, I hated myself.

Eventually I did take a shower. Alone. I’d stood under the hot water and scrubbed my skin with soap until I’d erased all traces of his memory. It was the same thing I’d done that night after returning home. I remember washing my skin until it was red and raw. Until some of my flesh had actually worn off. At the time I foolishly believed I could get rid of him. That somehow one day I could forget. Wash the horrible night right

down the drain. But almost twenty years later, the memory still lingers. Chases me, capturing me more often than I care to admit. Once I was done with my shower and had gotten dressed, Lennie cut my hair like she’d promised. She stood in front of me snipping off the frayed edges and speaking to me in a gentle tone. “Now I know why you’ve been so empathetic,” she said, as strands of hair sprinkled my bathroom floor. “You know exactly what I’m going through. You’ve stared death in the face. Had to

endure the most horrible reality.” She was right about having to endure something horrific, but she was wrong about the rest. I wasn’t empathetic because of what happened that night. My understanding of her disease was because of something else entirely. But I’d already shared enough for one night. Poured out enough of my pain. There was no way I could talk about anything else. The squeak of the scissors sliced through the silence, more hair shedding onto the ground. “I still feel so bad about

earlier,” Lennie’s voice was soft. “I never should’ve come on so strong.” “How could you have known?” “It’s just so awful what happened to you.” Her lips curved downward. I touched her hand, stopping the snap of the scissors. “It’s not your fault.” “I know.” She nodded. My hand slipped from hers and she resumed her task. “So…you’ve never been with a woman then?” It was an understandable question, but it caused my stomach to knot. In my mind I saw Sarah lying on

her bed, hair splayed out over her pillow, legs wide, shirt off. I saw her staring at me with her one good eye, and I shuddered. “No,” I answered honestly. “I never have. I want to. I just…” “It’s okay.” Lennie stopped cutting, her eyes crashing into mine. “I get it. And I’ll be patient. You take the lead on this, okay?” For the first time since the incident tonight, my chest expanded, some of the tightness dissipating. I was grateful for her statement, grateful for her understanding and compassion.

“There.” Lennie stood back, studying her handiwork. “Much better.” Smiling, she set the scissors down on the bathroom counter. “Thanks.” My gaze slid over her shoulder to check out my reflection in the mirror. I was a little embarrassed at all the liquid splatters and dust coating my mirror, but I shoved the thought away. It was too late to fix it anyway. And honestly, after my outburst earlier, the least of my concerns was a dirty bathroom. If Lennie wasn’t running for the hills yet, then I could rest assured

that she wasn’t going to. “It does look good,” I told her honestly. “You’re full of hidden talents, aren’t you?” Grinning, she shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.” Glancing around, she said, “Now show me where your broom is. I’ve gotta get this place cleaned up.” I shook my head. “No way. You go sit down. I’ll clean up.” She cocked an eyebrow, opening her mouth as if she was going to protest. So I grabbed her by the shoulders and steered her into the hallway. “You’ve already done so much

for me tonight. Besides, it’s getting late. You need to rest. I’ll clean up.” “Okay,” she said in a resigned manner. “Fine.” Satisfied, I went into the kitchen and grabbed the broom from where it was propped against the wall next to the fridge. Lennie sat on the couch and turned on the TV as I made my way back into the bathroom. As I swept the floor, images from the night flooded my mind, and I groaned inwardly. I made such a fool of myself. Not to mention that I pushed Lennie away. A girl I’ve

fantasized about being with my whole life practically threw herself at me, and I had a psychotic meltdown. Sighing, I mentally slapped my forehead. What a bonehead move. Not that I did it on purpose. It was like I lost myself. Like I had an out-of-body experience or something. And it wasn’t the first time. I had done the same thing that night in that man’s truck. When he’d touched me and forced me to do unspeakable things, I had closed my eyes and imagined myself in the pages of my book.

I traveled into my favorite stories. I walked in the woods, leaving bread crumbs in my wake like Hansel and Gretel. I skipped through the forest wearing a red cape and holding a basket like Little Red Riding Hood. Only I wasn’t scared of the big bad wolf or the old woman who would try to shove me inside her oven. In fact, I wished for them. I silently called out for the monsters in my fairytales because I was convinced if they showed up they would save me from the man who cradled me in

his arms. For it was then that I knew what real monsters were. They were people, just like you and me.

24 “What the hell did you do to your hair?” Ray asked when I showed up for dinner a couple of nights after Lennie gave me a haircut. Lifting my arm, my fingers ran through the greasy strands. “I got it cut.” “I think it looks nice.” Mom patted my shoulder, wearing her usual wide-mouthed grin. “Now sit down. I made your favorite.” I groaned inwardly when she

brought out a platter of chicken. It was the same damn dinner again. Did she think it was the only thing I liked? She’d made it the last like five times I’d been here. But I forced a smile and reached for the chicken. Ray had already piled his plate high with food. Apparently he didn’t mind having the same dinner repeated over and over again. “Well, I think his hair looks ridiculous. Like it was cut by a little kid,” Ray said. Mom frowned. “You should go see Bob, my barber. He’ll fix that hack job up in no time,” Ray offered

as if he was trying to be helpful. But I saw it for what it was – a slam. “No, thanks. I’m good,” I said dryly, forcing a bite of the rubbery chicken. The grandfather clock dinged, causing me to flinch. When I glanced up at it I saw the scratch on the side from when I tried to carve my initials into it. I never even got the first letter done before Ray caught me. That earned me a spanking. As my gaze swept the room, ghosts of my former selves whisked over me. Sometimes it was creepy how

nothing had changed here. As if time had actually stopped the minute you walked in this house. Even Mom and Ray were exactly the same. It made my stomach hurt, my teeth ache. It made me sad. I ate faster, suddenly desperate to get out of here. “So how is the book coming along?” Mom’s voice held its normal cheeriness, but I heard the hard edge to it below the surface. My gaze flickered toward Ray’s side of the table, and I caught the subtle nod he threw her. Truth was, I hadn’t

been writing as much as I should have been. I’d been spending all my free time with Lennie, and my book had taken a back seat. And that meant that I had to take more money from Mom and Ray. Clearly, Ray wasn’t happy about it. However, Mom would never tell me no. She’d always been my biggest advocate. Sometimes I thought that she knew about what happened to me that night. I’d changed after that, and she noticed. She used to pester me about it a lot. And she never left me alone again. In fact, she became like my shadow, my

silent protector. Drove Ray nuts, but it didn’t stop her. Everywhere I looked I saw her, looming over me while I played with my toys, hovering in the doorway when I read in my room. Sometimes I even caught glimpses of her near the fence, watching me during recess at school. When I was in the backyard, I could always count on her face filling the back window as she peered out. Sometimes it bothered me, but mostly I was grateful. I’d heard of guardian angels that were sent from heaven to watch over us.

And for much of my childhood I believed in them. I used to squint, hoping to somehow break through the supernatural barrier and see mine. I imagined an angel trailing me, white wings and a halo around her head. But after the night Ray left me, I stopped believing in angels. If they were real, where was mine that night? Why didn’t she protect me? It became easier to not believe at all than to believe that my angel had turned a blind eye. Had chosen not to assist me when I needed her most. So I started to think of Mom as

my guardian angel. One that was real. One that I could count on. But I knew Mom’s protection and support of me didn’t go unpunished. Ray wasn’t abusive toward her. He didn’t hit her or anything. But his disapproval was obvious. And for that I felt bad. She paid for it in his snide comments, his little jabs, his narrowed eyes and pursed lips, his neglect. As much as I cared about Lennie, I couldn’t continue to let my mom suffer. She was my biggest cheerleader, the only person who offered me

unconditional love and support. And I couldn’t let her down. “It’s going well.” I washed down the lie with a gulp of milk. It was a little sour, and I gagged. “I should have it done really soon.” “Great.” Mom threw Ray a triumphant look. “I knew it.” Ray grunted, frowned, took another bite. Bending over my plate, I swallowed down some more chicken, a few bites of potatoes. The lights above the table flickered a few times, making a

buzzing noise. One of them went out. When I looked up, I saw that two of them were dark, leaving only one glowing. It was typical. Ray never changed the lights until all of them went out. Ray’s fork scraped his plate. Mom’s musky perfume overwhelmed my senses. When I glanced up at her, I was struck with how old she appeared, and I wondered why I hadn’t noticed how much she’d aged. Maybe it was the dim lighting. Mom had always seemed younger than her years to me. In my mind she was vibrant, and still looked like she

had when I was a kid. Ray, on the other hand, always seemed old to me. Always seemed decrepit and wrinkled. There was a story I read once where the person’s inner beauty was reflected outwardly. I suspected that was why I saw Ray like that. It was because I saw who he really was. Saw what was in his heart. “Amelia told me that she finally got a hold of you, Colin.” Mom broke into the silence. I nodded, since my mouth was full of food.

“Exciting about her having another baby, huh?” Still chewing, I nodded again. It seemed that Mom liked Amelia better now that she was an adult. They used to fight all the time when Amelia was a teenager. Mom would yell, Amelia would scream and slam doors. I’d always expect Ray to intervene, to put Amelia in her place the way he did with me. But he simply shook his head, muttering something about girls. And it baffled me. “I know she’s hoping for a girl,”

Mom continued. I swallowed down my bite. “Yeah, she mentioned that.” “No. She’ll have another boy,” Ray announced as if he had psychic powers. “Another strong boy like that other one of hers.” A sour look passed over Mom’s features, but she quickly replaced it with a smile. I often wondered if Mom’s face hurt when she went to bed at night. It must be tough to keep that perpetual smile pasted on. I didn’t bother trying to mask my distaste for Ray’s comment.

Why bother? His comment was clearly meant toward me. For much of my life, I tried to deny what I knew deep down was the truth. I used to tell myself that Ray meant nothing by his offhand comments and that he wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt me. But my years of denial were over. We all knew he meant every jab. But it didn’t matter. I wouldn’t waste my breath. I wouldn’t acknowledge Ray’s comment at all. Rational conversation didn’t work with him anyway. Amelia’s son was a

toddler. There was no guarantee he’d grow up to make my stepdad proud. Very few people did. So I went back to eating. I picked up the pace, almost choking. But it was worth it because dinner was over in minutes. After offering up a flimsy excuse, I said my goodbyes and took off. As I stepped outside, I was grateful to be out of the house with the dim lighting, the woman with the fake smile and the man who wore his blackened heart on his face.

25 The next week Lennie spent almost all of her time at my apartment. She rarely left, and when she did, it was to pick up clothes and stuff from home. Her parents didn’t seem to mind. In fact, they never even called to check on her. Since she’d been here, her phone hadn’t rung one time. Not that I was judging her. The only people who ever called me were my mom and Amelia. I didn’t have any good friends. None that called anyway.

But Lennie wasn’t like me. She’d always been popular. Always had lots of friends. Then again, that was the old Lennie. The girl she’d been back in high school. The current Lennie was much different. And she had mentioned once that many of her friends had jumped ship when she was diagnosed with cancer. However, that didn’t explain the radio silence from her parents. My mom worried about me constantly. Weren’t Lennie’s parents concerned about her? Every time I asked her about

them she changed the subject or eluded the question. I’d offered to meet her parents, to make sure they felt comfortable with her being here, but she’d declined. “They’re fine with me being here,” she said flippantly. “They trust me.” When she smiled, I wanted to believe her words, but there was something in her eyes and demeanor that told me differently. And that’s why I went to her house. It was early one morning when Lennie had a doctor’s appointment. I

knew my window of time was limited. She was planning to come back to my apartment afterward. I told her I had errands to run, so I figured that bought me some time. If she showed up and I wasn’t home, she’d suspect I was at the grocery store or post office or something. Still, I couldn’t be gone too long. Luckily, Lennie never asked me to go with her to the doctor. I told myself it was because she liked going alone, but sometimes I wondered if it was because she sensed my hesitation, my fear. Either

way, I was relieved. Therefore, I didn’t spend too much time analyzing it. The minute Lennie left, I headed to her house. She’d told me the barest of details about her parents. I didn’t know if they still worked or if they were retired. And I only had vague memories of them picking her up for school or taking her to back to school night when we were younger. But I was sure they looked much different now. It was around ten in the morning when I pulled up to the curb across the street from Lennie’s childhood home.

The curtains were open, a Honda civic sat in the driveway, and a truck was parked along the curb. Slumping down in my seat, I stared into the windows, but from this vantage point I couldn’t see anything more than blurry movement. Clearly someone was home, but I couldn’t see who it was. Irritation welled inside of me. Why were her parents home instead of accompanying her to the doctor? I knew I was being a hypocrite, since I wasn’t with her either. But I wasn’t her parents. I hadn’t raised her from birth. Hell,

sometimes I wasn’t sure what I was. I liked to think that I was her boyfriend, but Lennie had never confirmed that. My mom had never missed any of my doctor’s appointments. She stood by my side at every single one. What was the deal with Lennie’s parents that they didn’t do the same for her? That they didn’t even call her or worry about her? Realizing that I’d never get the answers from here, I emerged from my vehicle, and softly closed the door. Turning my head in both directions, I

scanned the neighbors’ houses. No one was outside. I wasn’t surprised. It was a dreary day. Dark clouds lined the sky making it appear that it was night time instead of morning. Besides, the houses over here were nice, so most people were probably working to pay their mortgages. Or they were old and retired, sitting inside watching television or reading the paper. While it was quiet, I hurried across the street, my feet pounding on the pavement. When I reached the grass, I crouched down, careful not to be seen by

the person or people inside. Hunched over, I scurried across the wet grass. Green blades stuck to my shoes, and the bottom of my pants dampened. By the time I reached the house I was winded. But I breathed softly, keeping as silent as possible. After regaining my bearings, I lifted up a tiny bit until I could see inside the window above my head. The house looked much different than my parents’. Clearly they’d updated their furniture sometime in the last twenty years. Everything was crisp, clean, modern.

Detecting movement out of the corner of my eye, I ducked back down. But then I saw that it was a woman and she wasn’t looking in this direction. She was holding a cup of coffee and making her way to the dining table. When she sat down, she lowered her head, reading something. On further inspection, I realized it was a newspaper. I couldn’t get a clear glimpse of her face, but I could see Lennie in her mannerisms, in the color of her hair. Clearly this was her mom. She appeared calm, content. It

was as if she hadn’t had a moment of worry in her life. That didn’t seem right, and it caused doubt to creep into my stomach. If her daughter was dying of cancer, wouldn’t she seem more agitated? More concerned? Not sitting at home reading the paper like she hadn’t a care in the world. Something wasn’t right. Everything about this felt wrong. Hearing the rumble of tires and the roar of an engine, I sank to the ground, hiding behind a nearby bush. The car drove past, vanishing down the

street. I started to stand up when I heard voices to my right. So I slid back down. The sharp edge of a twig scratched my arm, piercing the flesh. Crimson blood trickled down my skin. With my other hand, I wiped the sticky blood off. It coated the pads of my fingers and wouldn’t come off even when I swiped it on the calf of my pants. Through the leaves of the bush, I stared in the direction of the voices. A man and woman stood in the next door neighbor’s lawn chatting. Sighing, I stayed still, my back

plastered to the side of Lennie’s house as I waited for them to stop talking and go inside. After several minutes, I blew out an annoyed breath. Desperation bloomed inside of my chest. I needed to get out of her before Lennie finished her appointment. Closing my eyes, I pictured her in that hospital surrounded by white lab coats and nurses, sick people and imposing doctors. My stomach knotted, and familiar shame filled me. I should be with her. She shouldn’t be alone. Silence surrounded me, and my

gaze darted next door. The couple was gone. Scanning the street, I waited until I was sure no one was around. Then I precariously hoisted myself up to peek into the window again. The woman was still seated at the table. A man rounded the corner. I only saw the back of his head at first, but surmised it was her dad. He walked with an easy gait, his shoulders relaxed. He leaned over and kissed the woman on the forehead. Warmth spread through me at the gesture, some of my earlier anger waning. I was glad that Lennie grew up in a home with

parents who loved each other. Ray was never that tender with my mom. My lips twitched at the corners when the man turned around, his face in full view. I inhaled sharply, my entire body going hot. No. It can’t be. Backing away from the window, the world spun around me. I almost fell over, but managed to stay upright. Struggling to breathe, I reached up and clawed at my face, my fingernails raking down my skin. I felt the flesh embed under my fingernails. I wanted to dig them into my eyes, physically remove

them. But I knew that wouldn’t take away what I’d seen. Gasping for air, I stumbled across the front lawn and staggered to my car. Once inside, I exhaled, trying to process what I saw. She lied. This wasn’t her home. Those weren’t her parents. What was happening? I squinted toward the numbers outside the house making sure that it was the right address. Then I stared at the front door, at the mat on the front porch, remembering all the books I left. That

was here, right? None of it made any sense. My face was so hot, I feared I had a fever. That I was going to pass out at any minute. I wiped sweat from my brow. Then with shaking fingers, I turned on the engine. It took multiple tries, but I finally got it. Dark red blood painted the steering wheel, my pants, my face, my fingernails, the seat. It looked like a murder had gone down in here. As I turned around and drove to my apartment, confusion filled me. What kind of game was Lennie

playing? And what part did I play in it?

26 “How’d your appointment go?” I asked Lennie when she showed up at my apartment. It was only a few minutes after I returned, and I’d been sitting in front of the laptop at my kitchen table pretending to work. “It went well.” She lost her jacket, unwrapped the scarf around her neck. Tossed them both on a nearby chair. Then she stood behind me, kneading my shoulders with her hands.

“How did it go here? Did you get a lot of work done?” With her hands on me, it was impossible to think clearly. I wondered if that was one of her tactics. Lifting my arms, I placed my hands over hers, stopping her impromptu massage. Then I turned around, my eyes meeting hers. I studied what was inside, hoping to find the answer I needed. She smiled, her brows furrowing. “Colin? What’s going on? Do I have a booger hanging out of my nose or something?” Wiping under her nostril,

she let out a nervous laugh. “No. You look fine. Well, more than fine. You look beautiful like always,” I said honestly. It didn’t matter how suspicious I was, she still captured my heart. I was convinced she always would. I had already let so many things slide with her. I’d overlooked things and forgiven her. And I was sure I would do it again…and again. I simply wanted to know the truth. “Thanks.” Her eyelashes fluttered, her gaze combing over my face. With a perplexed look, she reached

forward and touched my cheek. “What happened? You’re all scratched up.” Shit. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice. I’d washed up my hands and face thoroughly when I got home. “Oh…um…I was itchy, and I guess I scratched too hard.” “You did this to yourself?” “Yeah.” I flashed her a chagrined look. “Stupid, huh?” Pursing her lips, she stood unmoving for a moment. “I guess you don’t know your own strength,” she spoke slowly. “You might want to be

careful in the future.” “Yeah, I should be.” Remembering what I saw at her house, I peered up at her through the strands of hair she’d jaggedly cut. “My mom used to say the same thing to me. What about your mom? Did she say things like that?” She wrinkled her nose, confusion filling her features. “No, but she didn’t need to. I didn’t scratch the crap out of my own face.” I was losing her. My segue wasn’t working out like it should. She was so focused on my face it would be

difficult to get anything else out of her. Taking a deep breath, I decided to go for it. There was no easy way to transition to this. “Speaking of moms, maybe you should call your parents and tell them about your appointment.” Yeah, that was smooth. She stiffened, her hands clenching. “Why?” I shrugged as if I hadn’t uncovered some huge secret. As if I hadn’t been spying on the house she said was hers. “Just figured they’d want to know.”

She waved away my suggestion with a flick of her wrist. A cloud moved in front of the windows, and the entire room went dark. “I can tell them later.” “They don’t worry about you?” “Of course they worry. But I don’t want to talk to them.” She looped her arms around my neck, giving me a playful grin. “I want to talk to you.” “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, hoping she’d catch the double meaning. I was in this for the long haul. No matter what. I wished she knew that. I wished she trusted me.

She winked. “Neither am I.” I was tiring of this. Brushing her arms off of my neck, I pinned her with a firm look. She withered beneath it. “Why don’t you want to talk to your parents, Lennie?” She recoiled. “What is going on with you? Why do you suddenly care so much about my parents?” “I don’t care about them. I care about you, and I feel like you’re keeping something from me.” Cocking her head to the side, her forehead knit together. “Where is this

coming from?” I couldn’t tell her what I’d done. What I’d seen. So I said, “You’re so elusive about them.” “So are you about your parents,” she said. And she had a point. Her fingers touched my face. “Look, I’m just not close to them, okay? And it’s only gotten worse since I’ve been sick. I don’t wanna think about it when I’m with you.” I melted into her touch, drowned in her intense stare. “You make me feel safe, secure. Everything’s better when I’m here. Can we just leave it at that?”

I wanted to demand answers, but I couldn’t argue with her logic. Being with her made everything better for me too. She’d become my escape. My safe place. And when I was with her, I didn’t want to think about my parents either. Clearly she had lied to me, but hadn’t I done the same to her? I still hadn’t told her everything about my life. My past or present. And I wasn’t sure I ever would. “Yeah,” I told her. “We can do that.” Relief passed over her features. Bending forward, she brought her face

close. The minute her mouth clamped over mine, the electricity went out, darkness cloaking us. It felt like a warning. Too bad I didn’t heed it.

I tried to forget about what I’d seen. Tried to push it from my mind and focus on Lennie. Sometimes it was easy, like when she nestled in my arms, or when her lips pressed against mine. It was easy to pretend that I’d never seen

anything at her house that day. But other times it was all I could think about. Still, I didn’t press her any longer about it. I let it go, figuring she’d come clean when she was ready. In the meantime, I would do what I’d been doing all along. I’d enjoy my time with her. She still spent most of her time at my apartment, and while I loved her being here, I also knew that I needed to get some work done. I was so close to finishing the book, and for Mom’s sake, I had to finish it. Besides, it was what was best for Lennie and me too. If, by

some miracle, I sold the novel to a publisher, I could afford to get out from under my parents’ thumb. Maybe Lennie and I could even move somewhere else. Far away from everything here. I was certain that was the only way we’d ever be able to have any kind of future. That’s why I got up early this morning with the intention of heading to the coffee shop. Lennie was sprawled out in my bed. I’d slept on the couch, so my neck was kinked, my arm numb. I rolled my neck while I brushed my teeth,

toothpaste running down my chin. After rinsing, I got dressed quietly trying not to wake Lennie. But it was a losing battle. She was the lightest sleeper I knew. “Are you going somewhere?” She sat up in bed, the blanket falling from her shoulders, revealing the tight tank top she wore. I swallowed hard. “I need to get some work done,” I told her, knowing that leaving the apartment was my only option. There was no way I’d get a single word written if I stayed here. Especially if she

insisted on wearing pajamas like that. Talk about distracting. “The coffee shop?” She pushed a lock of hair out of her face. Sun shone in from the window behind her, and her face and body were awash in yellow tones. I nodded. “If you give me a minute to get ready, I can go with you.” My stomach sank. I threw her an apologetic look. “Lennie, I really need some time alone. I haven’t been getting a lot of writing done lately, and I have to

finish this book.” Seeing the dejected expression on her face, I felt like crap. Moving toward her, I rested my hands on her hips, stamped a kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’d like nothing more than to spend the day with you, but this is something I have to do.” “I get it,” She forced a smile. Lifting up to her knees, she brushed her lips lightly over mine. “I have some things I have to take care of anyway.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Meet you back here tonight?” “Yeah.” Smiling, I grazed her

cheek with my knuckles. “Thanks for being so understanding about this.” “Of course. But it’s partly for selfish reasons. I want you to finish the book too, because then I’ll get to read it.” Eyes sparkling, she tossed me a wink. I chuckled. “Is that so?” “Yep.” Nodding, she bit her lip. “I’m proud of you for sticking with it.” After giving me one more brief glance, she slid off the bed. I had to avert my gaze from her bare legs, and scantily clad body. I may have had some kind of

block when it came to sex, but I was still a guy. And she was still sexy as hell. She scooped her hair off her neck, secured it on top of her head with a hair tie. Then she turned to me. “I’ll get out of here so you can get your work done.” She was so flexible and understanding. It surprised me at times. I’d never met anyone like her. Despite whatever secrets she was keeping, I knew she cared about me. And, for me, that was enough. She was enough. More than enough. She was

everything I’d dreamt of my entire life. And here she was, encouraging and supporting me in a way that no one else had ever done. And that was the reason I finally said it. Throwing caution to the wind, I stepped toward her, circling my arms around her waist. “Lennie?” I whispered, our gazes connecting. “I love you.” They were the words I’d wanted to say for weeks, and they were finally out in the open, lingering between us. Her eyes widened, and her mouth slackened. But not in a happy way. No,

she looked stricken, and I desperately wished I could shove the words back in. Placing her palms on my chest, she shoved me back. My hands fell away from her waist, dangled awkwardly at my side. It was like I’d seen a car accident and didn’t have time to intervene. It all happened so fast. And now that it was over, I felt nothing but remorse. It’s funny, because whenever I’d imagined this moment, I thought I’d feel relief. As if the words were a weight I was carrying around and once I shed them I’d feel lighter. But that’s

because I hadn’t been anticipating this kind of reaction from her. She shook her head, backing away from me. “Colin, I’m so sorry. This…” she pointed between us. “This was a mistake. I never should’ve let it go on this long.” “What are you talking about? We’re not a mistake.” Her words baffled me. How could she say this? What we had was beautiful. “I know.” She smothered her face with her hand, groaned into her palm. Breathing deeply, she dropped her

hand and looked at me. “Colin, I wish I were healthy and whole and could give you the life you deserve. But I’m not.” “I don’t need that. I want you the way you are.” Bringing her hand to her mouth, she chomped down on her fingernails. I’d never seen her do that before, and I felt bad that my words had agitated her so much. I thought they would bring her joy, not anxiety. “I feel like I’ve lead you on. Given you false hope. The treatments are working for now, but I don’t know how much longer I have. It

could be months, even years, but it might only be days.” I grabbed her hand, yanked her to me. “Lennie, we’ve been over this. None of us knows how much time we have left. I can’t offer you a guarantee any more than you can offer me one. But regardless, I know that I want to spend whatever time we have left together. Whether that’s years, months or only days.” “It’s easy to say that when I seem healthy and alive, but what about when I get sick again. When I am frail and can’t

take care of myself.” “Stop.” I told her, drawing her closer. So close that her chest pressed to mine. “The thing is, that I love you. That isn’t going to change if you push me away. It’s not going to change if you get sicker. It’s not even going to change if you die. Nothing will change it, because it’s already happened. I already love you. It’s too late to try to talk me out of it.” I barely got the last word out when her hands came up to frame my face, her lips crushing mine. At first her

lips moved so swiftly I couldn’t keep up. But eventually we found our rhythm, our mouths moving in sync, our fingers tangling in each other’s hair. She kissed me like I was the medicine needed to cure her. Like I could give her a second chance at life. Every movement was manic and desperate, unlike how smooth she normally was. But it was fine by me. Actually, it made me more comfortable. Lennie always seemed so much more refined and sophisticated than me. But right now it was like she was

unraveling, like she was exposing me to a frenzied side of herself. And I welcomed it. For once her passion matched mine. The kiss was dizzying and unexpected, and it almost made me forget about the fact that she hadn’t said “I love you” back.

27 One thing I wanted was for Lennie to experience everything she desired in this life. I didn’t want her to regret anything. To leave anything undone or unspoken. Even though I didn’t have much money, I was determined to make all her dreams come true. That was another reason why I was working so hard to finish my book. I knew she wanted to read it. She’d told me many times. And, the truth was, I

wanted her to read it too. I couldn’t wait to hear her feedback. To know if she loved it. I was sure she would. She was my muse, after all. But I wasn’t naïve enough to think that my book was the only thing she wanted. We were only in our twenties. There were so many things we hadn’t done. So many things yet to experience. I was a homebody. Not a risk taker or adventurer at all, and yet, I had things on my bucket list. Things I hoped to do one day. Therefore, I knew Lennie must

also, even though she kept denying it. “I told you,” she said, when I asked her for the thousandth time. “I don’t have a bucket list.” “C’mon, there must be something.” When she started to shake her head, I grabbed her around the middle and tickled her waist. We had been lying on the couch together, and I had been reading her one of my favorite scary novels. I loved reading scary books to her because she’d press her face into my chest at the scary parts, squeal into my

shirt. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. But now I discarded the book onto the ground and continued tickling her. A stream of laughter flew out of her mouth as she kicked and flailed. “Stop it,” she squealed, but it was in a fun way. A way that told me she didn’t want me to stop. Besides, she was laughing so hard it was clear she wasn’t in pain. “I will when you tell me something on your bucket list.” “I don’t…” laugh, gasp. “have…” another squeal. “one.”

“It doesn’t have to be an actual list.” We rolled over until I was straddling her. My fingers moved up to her armpits. Now she was really laughing. “Just something you still want to experience. Something you don’t want to miss out on.” She shoved at my hands, continued to kick. “Fine,” she finally choked out. “I’ll tell you.” I stopped tickling her, and she breathed out loudly. Her face was slick with sweat. I brushed away a strand of hair that stuck to her cheek and then started to slide off of her.

But she reached up, held me in place. “If you had asked me this question when I was younger, you know, before I got sick, I’m sure I would’ve had a ton of answers. And they probably would’ve been crazy.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room. It was night, and the only light I had on was the lantern on the end table. “I would’ve probably said that I wanted to go skydiving or something like that. But now the thing I want is much simpler than that.” “What is it?” I asked, waiting

anxiously. “I want you,” she commanded. Grabbing the collar of my shirt, she pulled me down on top of her. I tumbled forward, falling until my chest was flush against hers. She was pinned beneath me, my legs caging her in. Her lips fastened to mine, her fingernails raking over my chest as they traveled downward. Panic clawed at me the lower her hands got. Oh, no. It was happening again. My throat closed up, my breath filling up my lungs. I latched onto her arm. “Lennie,

stop.” She did, and it should have made me feel better. Relieved. But I felt like a jerk. How many times would she allow me to reject her? She deserved more than this. Reaching out, I stroked her face. “I want you, Lennie. More than you’ll ever know. I just don’t know if I can give you this. At least not right now.” “It’s okay.” She gave me a onesided grin. “I wasn’t referring to sex, exactly, when I said I wanted you. What I meant was that I wanted this. I wanted

us.” Her fingers played with the edge of my shirt sleeve. “I always wanted to be loved. To be with someone who would stick with me in sickness and in health. In good times and bad.” “Sounds familiar. Almost like vows or something,” I joked. Then sobered up, realizing what she was saying. “Oh. You wanted to get married?” Her face screwed up, her lips pursing. “Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to marry me.” “I would,” I told her honestly. “I

would be honored to marry you.” She shook her head, a large smile sweeping over her features. “Just knowing that you would is enough. Just knowing that you love me no matter what. That you’d do anything for me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” “I would, Lennie. I would do anything for you.” She paused, studying my face. Her eyes followed her fingers as she touched my face, as she traced my chin and cheek, my nose and lips. I scarcely breathed. “I think I’ve fallen in love with

you, Colin.” It was the words I’d dreamt of hearing since I was a teenager. I didn’t simply hear them. I felt them as they washed over me. And they felt as good as I thought they would. Better, even.

28 The next morning Lennie went home. I was grateful for her confession the night before. If she hadn’t admitted to loving me, I would’ve assumed she went home because she had tired of me. Tired of having to deal with my baggage and my inability to be with her in the way she desired. Still it was hard to see her leave. I knew she’d be back. In fact, I was certain that by the time I returned from the coffee shop she’d be waiting

for me. She assured me that she was only picking up some things, checking in with her parents. And I wanted to believe her. But ever since she walked out the door of my apartment, I kept picturing what I’d seen at her house. I kept picturing him. And it caused my stomach to churn. Reaching my coffee mug, I forced away the thoughts. I wouldn’t go there. I couldn’t. For Lennie’s sake, I had to let this go. If I had any hope of us being together, I had to figure out a way

to get past this. After taking a sip of my coffee, I set it down on the round table. I was only one chapter away from finishing my novel. It seemed surreal. It was something I’d wanted to do my entire life. Years ago I tried, but never got this far. I think I wrote a hundred pages before I abandoned the project. Of course, there were reasons for that. And at this point I was glad I hadn’t completed it. But this time nothing would stand in my way. I had every intention of

writing The End. Giddiness spread through me at the thought. Determined, I hunched over my keyboard, set my fingers on the keys. Scanning the document, I read back over the last paragraph to refresh my memory of where I’d left off. I’d gotten distracted with a couple who brought in a baby a few minutes ago. The infant wouldn’t stop screaming, despite the mom and dad’s best efforts. Normally I would have just put in headphones and ignored it. But once I caught a glimpse of the baby’s face squished into its pastel blue

hat, I thought of Amelia and her pregnancy. I stared at the child wondering what the draw was. Having a baby didn’t seem like fun. It seemed like a death sentence. The way the couple hurriedly tried and failed to quiet the child made me feel sorry for them. It certainly didn’t make me want to be them. Then again, they probably didn’t understand why I chose to sit in front of a computer all day typing words on a screen. This manuscript was my baby. It had been created by me. And I loved it.

Perhaps, if I had a child of my own, one with my dark hair and eyes, I’d love him or her even more than I did this book. I tried to imagine how much more I’d love the child if he or she had Lennie’s features mixed in too. And for the first time I sort of understood. Not completely, but at least more than I did before. But now the couple was gone, and the rest of the patrons were relatively quiet, lost in their own worlds. So I did the same, my fingers flying over the keys, penning the

resolution to my story. Getting swept up in it, I typed faster and faster, the words pouring from my mind, down my arms and through my hands. I lost myself in the fictional world. For awhile it was like I left the coffee shop, like my characters were alive, like I no longer existed. My story became more real than this coffee shop, than this life. It wasn’t until a familiar scent wafted under my nose that the spell was broken, that I came out of my trance. I’d know that smell anywhere, even if I

could never describe it with words. Floral was what first came to mind, but I knew that didn’t do it justice. The scent was so much more than that. My fingers stopped, and I glanced up. Sure enough, Lennie stepped inside the coffee shop. The minute my eyes landed on her, I knew something was wrong. She didn’t look right. Her face was too pale, her hands trembled too much, she moved too slowly. As she deliberately stepped forward, I saw her head drop to the side, saw her eyes roll back in her head, and that’s when I knew

my intuition had been correct. “Lennie?” I called out, standing up abruptly. She blinked, attempting to hone in on me. I saw her gaze reach me from across the room, but it was unfocused, glassy. I’d seen that look before, and it caused a bud of panic to bloom in my chest. “Lennie!” I shouted, lunging forward and racing in her direction. I got to her in the nick of time. Her body slumped forward, like she was nothing more than a doll. One of those soft ones my sister used to have. I

remembered her carrying them around in her arms like they were real children. She fed them, rocked them, sang to them, kissed their foreheads. I’d always found it puzzling. How you could love something that wasn’t real? Throwing out my arms, Lennie fell into them. Wrapping them around her, I gathered up her frail body. She appeared thinner than before, but I knew that couldn’t be right. Hoisting her up, I clutched her to me. Her arms and legs dangled, her head hung back. She was lighter than air.

A frenzy of activity happened all around me. People who had been talking on phones or typing on their computers all sprang into action. “I’ll call nine-one-one,” a woman yelled, snatching up her phone. “You need help?” A man yelled. There were so many other voices, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. And I didn’t care. I only cared about Lennie. About making sure she was all right. Fear snaked around my heart at the fact that she wasn’t moving. “Lennie?” I whispered her name

over and over again, but she never responded. Grabbing up her wrist, I frantically felt for a pulse. When I found one, I almost cried out in relief. But it was faint. Way too faint. I heard the lady on the phone with nine-one-one rattling off the coffee shop’s address. But I knew I couldn’t wait for an ambulance. We were directly across from the hospital. I could run and get there faster. And that’s what I had to do. “It’s okay, Lennie,” I promised her. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Holding her tightly in my arms, I stepped forward. “Where are you going?” The woman asked. “I just called nine-oneone. An ambulance is on its way.” “I can’t wait,” I called without looking back. When I reached the doors, I attempted to open it with my shoulder. “You know her?” The woman called, as if worried this was a kidnapping or something equally ridiculous. “Yes,” I said. It was all I was giving her. I didn’t have time to sit here

and explain myself. The woman I loved was unconscious. A man scrambled to my side, pushed open the door. I stepped outside. Then I hurried as fast as I could across the street. Lennie’s body jostled in my arms and I whispered repeated apologies. But I couldn’t stop. Not until I knew she was safe. Luckily, the emergency room was right at the front of the hospital. My arms burned, and my breath came out labored as I approached the double doors. And that’s when the familiar fear snaked

around my heart, squeezing tight. The dreaded memories were right at the edge of my mind threatening to hop in and take center stage. But I wouldn’t let them. Not now. This was not the time to lose it. This was not the time to let fear take over. Lennie was too important. I wouldn’t let her die because I was too damn scared to face my fears. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside the hospital. “I need help!” I screamed.

All eyes turned to me. A nurse scurried toward us, shouting instructions to those around her. Before I knew it, Lennie had been taken from my arms, laid on a bed and wheeled down the hallway. A nurse demanded information, and I gave her as much as I could. Told her everything I knew about Lennie’s cancer and all about how she’d passed out in the coffee shop. Afterward, I asked if I could go back to see her, but they wouldn’t let me. Told me they could call me later and give me an update. At that point I was

too weary to be upset. Besides, I’d dealt with doctors and nurses before, and I knew how it went. I knew I’d never get my way. If they didn’t want me to see Lennie, I wouldn’t. Besides, I didn’t think I could help Lennie by staying here anyway. There was only one way to help her now. Only one thing I could do. Turning around, I left the hospital, my mission clear.

29 I was preparing to head back to the hospital to see Lennie when there was a knock on the door. Perplexed, I paused, wondering who it could be. No one but Lennie showed up out of the blue, and it couldn’t be her. Could it? I peered down at my phone, but there hadn’t been any missed calls. Therefore, I was certain she hadn’t been released yet. Furrowing my brow, my gaze flickered to my newly

printed manuscript sitting on the kitchen table next to my keys. It’s what I had come home to do – finish the book. I believed that Lennie would make it. That by the time I went back to the hospital she’d be fine, sitting up laughing and talking like always. I told myself over and over that passing out was nothing more than a temporary setback. But regardless, it gave me the push I needed to get that last scene finished. Now I planned to present it to Lennie at the hospital. To give her the one thing I’d promised her for months.

I didn’t have time for whoever it was at the door, so I stood still waiting for them to leave. But they didn’t. They knocked louder. Perplexed, I hesitantly opened it. When I saw who was standing there, my stomach sank. Inwardly, I groaned. “What are you doing here, Ray?” He never came over unannounced. Hell, he never came over at all. “Your mom sent me.” He stepped inside, walking past me like he belonged here. It irritated me. “She’s worried about you. You haven’t come over for

dinner in the last couple of weeks. You’re not returning her phone calls.” His gaze swept my apartment, and my insides knotted. I closed and opened my fists in agitation. Ray walked slowly forward, glancing around. My pulse quickened. His shoulders tensed when he reached the kitchen table. His arm shot forward, and he snatched something up. I swallowed hard, knowing what it was. “Who’s this?” Ray spun around, flashing the photograph in my direction. Anger sparked inside of me like

a lit match. I hated him for being here, for going through my stuff, for asking about her. “Colin?” He stepped toward me, his eyes so dark they were almost black. “Who is she?” I backed up. “Lennie.” Ray’s brows furrowed. He stared down at the photograph in his hand. “So your mom was right. There is a girl in your life.” Breathing deeply, I stared at him. He might have felt like he had the right to march in here and go through my stuff,

but he couldn’t make me talk. “This is a mistake, Colin,” Ray spat, tossing the photo down on the table. It fluttered in the air like a butterfly before landing. “And you need to put an end to it right now.” “But I care about her,” I said. Then clamped my mouth shut, wishing I’d kept quiet. Arguing with Ray never worked. Besides, the less he knew, the better. “You’re not capable of that.” Ray glared at me. “You may have your mom fooled, but not me. I know exactly what

happened with that girl in college, and I won’t let you do it again to this one.” That was it. The last straw. I lunged at him, shoving him into the table. His eyes widened in shock. He grunted when his spine hit the chair. Staggering backwards, I stared down at my hands. Had I really done that? The room bent around me. I blinked. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Ray stumbled away from the table, rubbing his back. “I wonder what your mom will say when I tell her what you just did. Think she’ll still want to

believe the best about you?” I felt sick. Mom was always on my side. But I’d never lost my temper like that with Ray. Would she still side with me if she knew? I didn’t even want to speculate. I wanted to leave and go be with Lennie. She was probably wondering where I was. “I-it was an accident,” I stammered. “A-a-and you started it.” Ray shook his head. “You’ve always been full of excuses.” I was tired of his accusations. Tired of this conversation. “I have to

go.” Snatching my manuscript and my keys off the kitchen counter, I marched to the front door. “Where are you going?’ “I’m an adult. I don’t have to tell you.” I stood in the doorway staring at the ground. Silently I willed him to leave. He walked toward me, his shadow painting my body. “You’re not going to see that girl, are you?” I kept my mouth shut the way I should’ve done from the beginning. He goaded me before, but I wouldn’t let it

happen again. “Colin, answer me, dammit!” I flinched, but didn’t lift my head. “You know what happened the last time.” My head snapped up. Why did he keep bringing that up? “That was different.” Ray cocked one eyebrow. He jammed his index finger into my chest. “You leave this girl alone, you understand?” Gritting my teeth, I shoved his

finger away. I wasn’t a kid anymore. He didn’t have the right to tell me what to do. His bullying days were over. This knowledge gave me a surge of power. “I will do what I want.” I stepped out of the apartment. When he followed me, I slammed the door shut and raced down the walkway. His footsteps pounded behind me. “Colin,” he called. But it was no use. I was faster. There was a time when he was faster and stronger than me. But now he was old. For once I had the upper hand. “I’m not bailing you out this

time, Colin!” With his words trailing me, I ran to my car.

Clutching the stack of papers under my arm, I hurried through the double doors of the hospital. I passed nurses who walked with fast, clipped strides, and doctors wearing crisp white lab coats. Everyone appeared stoic, somber. My heart pinched. I hated that Lennie was here. I wished I could scoop her up and

carry her out the front doors. But I knew that wasn’t possible. This was the best place for her right now. Rounding the corner, the pages fluttered against my side, and it caused my lips to curve slightly at the corners. If I couldn’t take Lennie home, at least I could bring her something to brighten her day. Something to help her escape, even just momentarily. Keeping my head down, I fought against the panic that started to take root in my stomach. “Colin, we need to talk,” the

doctor’s voice said, and his hands motioned me over. “I can help you.” Taking a deep breath, I shook my head hoping that the simple act would cause the memories to fade. I had to be here for Lennie. She needed me. I couldn’t afford to have an anxiety attack right now. She’d warned me so many times that this could happen, but I promised her that nothing would keep me away. That nothing would keep me from loving her. And I had to keep that promise. I approached a desk with a

woman sitting behind it. Inhaling through my nose and out through my mouth, I gathered courage. Then I stepped forward bravely. “I-I- um…” Pull it together, Colin. “I’m looking for Lennie Samson’s room.” She typed something on the computer in front of her with fake nails so long I wondered how typing was even possible. How she wasn’t hitting random keys. “Are you a family member?” Heat crept up into my cheeks. “N-no,” I stammered. “I’m sorry sir. Only family is

allowed to visit her.” My heart dropped. I’d come all this way, forced myself to face my fears, and I wasn’t going to be able to see her. I was about to argue, to beg the woman to let me back when a hand clamped down on my shoulder. “Bummer that they won’t let you back to see her,” a voice said. “But don’t worry. Her mom is with her now. Hopefully she’ll be out with news soon.” Placing the voice, my insides coiled, my shoulders and back going

rigid. I hated that he was touching me. That he was acting like we were friends. Shaking away his hand, I spun around, coming face to face with him. “Colin, right?” He said. Feeling numb, I nodded. “Rob.” He stuck out his hand, offering it to me. I looked at it briefly, but didn’t take it. What was he doing here? “How did you know who I was?” He shrugged. “Heard you asking for Lennie, so I made an educated guess. Nurses told us the name of the person

who brought her in. Said you might be back. I was hoping you would be because I wanted to thank you for taking care of Lennie. And I don’t just mean today. She’s told me about you, and I…I appreciate you being there for her.” He said that like I was doing him a favor. Since when did he have any claim to her? He left her awhile ago. She didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Annoyance was building inside my chest like a wall of bricks stacking up. I fought to breathe evenly. There were so many things I wanted to

say to him, but more than anything I wanted to ignore him. To pretend he didn’t exist. Too bad that was impossible since he was standing here in front of me. Again, I wondered what the hell he was doing here. How did he even know she was in the hospital? “I appreciate you making sure Lennie got to the hospital after she passed out. The doctor’s said that you getting her here so quickly really made a difference. I mean, I know she doesn’t have a lot of time left. She’s at the end of her life. I’ve come to terms with that.

But still, I don’t want it to be today. And thanks to you it doesn’t seem like it will be.” His voice wavered with emotion. I froze. What was he saying? “But I-I thought…the-the treatments. They’re working. The tumor has shrunk.” Rob shook his head, his forehead knitting together in confusion. “No. The treatments never worked. In fact, she stopped them months ago. Did she tell you they were working?” A headache pricked at the back of my eyes. Had she? What the hell was going on? I returned my attention to Rob.

“How did you know she was here?” He cocked his head to the side, shrugged. “The hospital called.” “You?” The walls bent around me. “And you came all the way from Southern California?” No, that wasn’t possible. That was hours away. Rob let out a nervous laugh. “No, from down the street.” He narrowed his eyes warily. “I live here in San Francisco.” “But I-I-thought you were in Southern California. You and Lennie broke up…and she came back here.”

“She told you about that, huh?” His gaze darted to the ground, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’s true.” He paused as if formulating his next statement carefully. “You have to understand. It was a really tough time when she was first diagnosed. She was really depressed, and I didn’t know how to help her. We were fighting all the time, and it was making her worse. So I suggested she go home to her family. But once she left, I missed her. And I felt like an ass. I mean, I love Lennie, and I want to be with her even if she’s sick.”

He swallowed hard, moisture filling his eyes. “So I got a job transfer and moved here.” I felt hot. Too hot. I feared I would pass out. “W-when was that?” “Um…maybe two months ago.” That meant that the whole time Lennie was with me she was also with him? She lied to me. I fisted my hands at my sides, feeling myself coming undone. A montage of my times with Lennie filled my thoughts. I felt her lips moving over my mouth, her hands in my hair, her chest pressed against mine. I saw her

traipsing around my apartment in her pajamas, saw her crouching beside me in the bathroom, remembered her cuddling up to me on the couch. How could she do all that if she was with him too? I told her I loved her. She said it back. “Are you okay, man?” Glancing at Rob, I was struck with another memory. It crashed into me like a bolt of lightning, and it ripped through me, tearing apart my insides. I was crouched in Lennie’s

parents’ front yard, peering in the window. The woman I thought was Lennie’s mom sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee and reading the paper. Every time she turned the page she wiped her fingers on her pant leg. It reminded me of something Lennie used to do when we were in school. She was one of the brightest students in class and she’d always offer to write answers on the board. But she’d get whiteboard marker on her hands, so she’d constantly wipe her fingertips on her pants. A man came around the corner,

and I figured it was Lennie’s dad. He leaned down and kissed the woman on the forehead. She glanced up at him lovingly and I got a clear view of her face. It felt like a sucker punch. When he turned around it only added insult to injury. Rob reached down and picked up a portion of the paper. It looked like it was the ads or the comics by how colorful it was. And I wasn’t surprised. I doubted he had much substance. Lennie’s gaze fell on him, love and affection filling her face.

It made me sick. But, despite what I’d seen, she came over later. And then she didn’t leave my side for weeks. The headache was worsening. I alternated between feeling dizzy and nauseous. “W-w-where do you live? You have your own apartment here or something?” “No. I’m staying at Lennie’s house. Well, with her and her parents… for now.” His face flushed a little like he was embarrassed. But that’s not right. She’d been at my place. The dizziness was worsening.

I breathed deeply, fighting against it. Rob’s hand clamped down on my back. “Look, man, it might be awhile before Lennie’s mom comes out. You don’t have to stick around. I’m sure you have other stuff to do. I can tell Lennie you came by. I know it’ll mean a lot to her.” He smiled gratefully. “You know, she was really glad she ran into you again. She enjoyed your talks at the coffee shop. And she liked reading the books you left her. You’ve been a good friend.” Friend? Books? The coffee

shop? Was that all she told him? But there was so much more to our relationship than that. Wasn’t there? The Lennie I spent time with wasn’t sick. She wasn’t dying. She was getting better. And she didn’t look the same as the girl I carried into the emergency room. Closing my eyes, I envisioned Lennie’s face the last time I saw her. Right before she passed out. And my breath caught in my throat. That was not the same Lennie. Not my Lennie.

Blinking rapidly, I tried to catch my breath. Gathering my bearings. I glanced down at the manuscript I clutched in my hand. Ray’s words filled my mind: I know exactly what happened with that girl in college. I pictured Sarah’s pale skin, her blond hair. She was so beautiful. Until she wasn’t anymore. I shook my head. “A good friend,” I spoke slowly. “Right.” My mind traveled back to the times I saw her in the coffee shop, and I latched onto

them, needing something concrete. Something real. “Seriously. You okay, man?” I nodded, remembering the initial reason for coming here. “I-I- brought Lennie this.” Lifting my arm, I held up the manuscript. “Ah, that’s right. Lennie told me you were writing a book.” It seemed that Lennie had told him a lot about me. “I finished, and I wanted her to read it.” I thrust it into Rob’s arms. “Is she well enough to do that?” The

question was valid. My Lennie was well. I had no idea how flesh and blood Lennie was. “I’ll make sure she reads it, even if I have to read it to her myself,” Rob promised. I nodded, the walls bending and swelling around me. My headache progressed. I winced. “I-I have to go.” “Sure.” Rob stepped around me. “See ya around, man.” Without responding, I ducked my head and hurried down the hall, leaving flesh and blood Lennie behind.

I told myself I would be all right. I didn’t need her anyway. Imaginary Lennie was waiting for me at home. She was tucked away in my laptop, in the words of my book where I could keep her safe. Where I could keep her with me forever.

30 The first thing I saw when I returned to my apartment was the picture of Lennie staring at me from where it sat on the kitchen table. I snatched it up, and traced her smiling face with the pads of my fingers. This Lennie looked nothing like the girl who passed out in the coffee shop. This Lennie was vibrant and alive, healthy. I wondered how I had confused the two.

However, at this point I wasn’t sure I truly knew the difference. When I thought back over the last couple of months, it was hard to know what was truth. What was reality. I remembered printing this picture from Facebook. It had been her profile picture, and I could see why. She was gorgeous in it. Her skin smooth, her hair shiny, her eyes bright. It was the way I would think of her from now on. And hopefully it would erase the image of the sickly girl I’d held in my arms today.

Dropping the picture, it fluttered through the air and landed upside down on the table. Weary, I sank into a nearby chair. My laptop was still open. Reaching out, I touched the mouse causing the screen saver to disappear. My manuscript came up, the cursor blinking next to the words THE END. It made me want to pinch myself. I could hardly believe it. I’d finished my first novel. There was a part of me that thought this day would never come. The last time I tried to pen a novel it ended in disaster. But this time I did it. I

suppose I had a better muse this time. The last muse had failed me. Miserably. Scrolling up the page, I read back over the last scene. It was my favorite, second only to the one where she confessed her love. It read as follows: “I’m convinced that I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. And the last few months have been the happiest of my life.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the ring box. Then I dropped to one knee. Her hand flew to

her mouth. She gasped. Flipping open the ring box, and holding it in the palm of my hand, I continued, “Will you marry me?” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I want to.” It wasn’t a yes, and I knew why. “Don’t do this. Not now. This isn’t about your illness. It’s about you and me and how much we love each other. I’ve told you before so many times that it doesn’t matter to me how much time we have left on this earth. I want to spend it with you. Every second. And I want you to be my

wife.” She drew her hand away from her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her quivering lips pushed up into a smile. “Yes,” she croaked. “Of course I’ll marry you.” My heart swelled. It was everything I’d ever wanted. And I knew it was what she wanted as well. Grabbing her hand, I gently placed the ring on her finger. It glistened in the dim lighting of my apartment. I loved seeing it on her finger, knowing what it represented. Knowing that it meant she

belonged to me. Pushing up off the ground, I took her in my arms, planting a kiss on her mouth. “I promise to love you in sickness and in health, for better or worse, til death do us part,” I whispered against her lips. “Let’s hope that’s not for a very long time,” she responded with a smile. “If I had my way, I’d keep you here with me forever,” I told her. “I feel like that’s what you’ve given me,” she responded. “I’ve lived

more in the last few months than I had in the last year. You’ve given me a new lease on life. Sometimes I think it’s not the treatments that are working, it’s you that’s keeping me healthy.” She peered up at me. “Do you think that’s possible? Do you think that love can heal?” “I think love is the most powerful thing on earth,” I told her. “And I love you with everything I have.” “I love you too.” Leaning forward, I sealed her words with a kiss. Within weeks we were married.

My love gave her strength, revived her, healed her. And we lived happily ever after. After reading the last line, I sat back in my chair, my eyes filling with moisture. If only life wrapped up as easily as a book did. Then maybe flesh and blood Lennie wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life. And Rob wouldn’t be the one by her side. She may have chosen him, but I immortalized her, gave her the one thing she wanted – a happy ending. Ray told me I didn’t know what

love was. But that wasn’t true. I knew exactly what love was. I loved Lennie, and I’d loved Sarah. Love didn’t have to be reciprocated to be real. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I blew out a ragged breath. I was glad to be done with the book, but I was also sad. There was a sense of mourning, a sense of loss. A hollow ache in my chest. I think it’s the reason I took so long to complete the novel, because I knew it would be the end of Lennie and me. Closing my laptop, I plucked up the picture of Lennie and I carried it

over to my dresser. On top was a small wooden box. My mom had given it to me when I was a kid. Back then I used to put odds and ends in it, pencils, erasers, rocks I’d collected. Now it held something different. Opening it, I dipped my hand inside, felt around until I had what I was looking for. I yanked them out, spread them over the top of my dresser. My stomach tightened. It had been years since I looked at these. Before now I wasn’t ready to see Sarah’s face again. To remember what had happened.

But now it was time. Time to let go of her. Time to let go of Lennie. Time to move on.

The first time I saw Sarah, I thought she was Lennie. I was walking to class with my roommate, and I spotted her across the grass. Her back was to me, but her long hair and the way she walked reminded me of Lennie. I nudged my roommate in the

side. “I think that’s a girl I went to high school with.” “Which one?” he asked, his gaze scouring the area. “The one right there.” I pointed. “With the blond hair.” He whistled appreciatively. “Mmm….mm…you should definitely go talk to her.” “You think?” Already a swarm of butterflies was taking residence in my stomach. “Yeah.” He shoved me. “Go.” Following his advice, I scurried

across the grass. She was walking a little fast, and I was worried I wouldn’t catch up to her, so I picked up the pace. Finally, I caught her. “Hey.” I tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around. My stomach dropped. It wasn’t Lennie. “Can I help you?” I was going to admit that I’d thought she was someone else, apologize and walk away. But I changed my mind. She may not have been Lennie, but she

was someone I wanted to get to know. She was pretty with her long blond hair, pale skin and blue eyes. It was actually her eyes that drew me to her the most. Even though I was sure that most people were repelled by them. At least I know my roommate was. When I first introduced her to him, he teased me, asking me if the only reason she was dating me was because she couldn’t see me. But he was an idiot. Having a lazy eye didn’t mean you were blind. But he didn’t let up, saying that it

creeped him out how one eye looked at him while the other eye did its own thing. Honestly, I liked that Sarah wasn’t perfect, because God knows I wasn’t either. Whenever I dated a girl, she always pointed out my flaws, my quirks. And eventually she’d break up with me because of them. With Sarah, I felt like we were on a level playing field. We both had our imperfections, but together we worked. And, besides, I thought she was pretty. Stunning, even. When we first started dating

things went well. In fact, it was during this time that I tried to write my first book. Sarah became my first muse. The first person to inspire me to put words on paper. But then one night changed everything. We’d been dating about a month when she invited me to come up to her dorm room after I’d taken her to dinner. Her roommate was staying at her boyfriend’s that night so she had her dorm to herself. We made out for awhile, rolling around on her bed, even

experimenting a little. We both shed our clothes, allowed our hands to explore one another’s bodies, but then she took it too far. At least too far for me. Most guys would’ve welcomed what happened. But I’m not most guys. I panicked, memories of that night in the strange man’s truck flooding my mind. The problem was that Sarah wasn’t understanding. She didn’t console me or whisper that everything would be okay. She demanded that I

leave, called me a freak. Said she never wanted to see me again. Devastated, I made the trek back to my dorm, shoulders slumped, head hanging low. When I got back to my dorm, my roommate said he’d heard I’d been spotted in Sarah’s dorm. He fistbumped me, congratulating me, clearly assuming I’d had sex with Sarah. I was going to correct him, but then I thought better of it. The truth would only make me look like an idiot. Skewing it a little wouldn’t hurt. And when he wanted more details, I gave him them. I

constructed a story with just enough truth to make it believable. So believable that by the end of the night I believed it too. And that’s when I realized the power of words, of a story. So I kept writing. Kept using Sarah as my inspiration. I wrote what should have happened between us. Not just that night, but every night after that. And the more I wrote, the more distorted reality became. My story took on a life of its own. In my own mind anyway.

When people asked me about Sarah, I told them she was my girlfriend. But not because I was lying. To me she was. But when Sarah found out, she got angry, and she started spreading rumors about me. She told people about that night. About how I couldn’t perform. The teasing was endless, whispers circling me night and day. No matter how vehemently I denied her claims, people believed her version of events over mine. Even my roommate did.

However, he still sided with me, saying that it must have been her bad eye that kept me from being able to do it. He said that he understood. But I got angry, shouting at him, and telling him it was all lies. Everything she said was a lie. And I would prove it. That night I followed her when she went out with friends. Staying at a safe distance, I watched her eat dinner, go out dancing and then head back to her dorm alone. I waited until her lights went out, until I was sure her roommate wasn’t coming home. Then I snuck

inside. I crawled into her bed, climbed on top of her. When she awoke, she screamed, but I placed my palm over her mouth. I was determined to do the one thing I hadn’t been able to last time. To show everyone that I could. I tried to think of anything other than the man in the truck. I thought about the playboys my stepdad used to hide in his sock drawer, and the girls who used to lay out in bikinis at the public pool when I was a teenager. I even thought of Lennie. But nothing worked.

Sarah was right. I was a freak. I couldn’t do it. In the end, his face was all I could see. Frustrated, I released my hand and slid off of her. And that was when the accusations started. She screamed and hollered, called the cops. Told them I had assaulted her. The truth is that I didn’t rape her. I couldn’t. I’m too broken. But in order to share that I would have had to tell everyone about that eight-year-old boy. And there was no way I was doing that.

So I stayed silent. Let her accuse me. When they found the book I was writing, it was even more damning. However, I knew the truth, and so did Sarah, and eventually she dropped the charges. At the time I thought it was because she felt bad. Because she didn’t want to hurt me. I found out later that my parents had paid her off. I had told them that Sarah and I were in a relationship. That she’d asked me to be with her that night. And that everything between us was consensual. Mom believed me. Ray didn’t. Still, he

bailed me out. Now I knew it was at Mom’s request. Afterward, I had to drop out of college, enroll in an online university. I took classes sitting in my parents’ house. Sarah destroyed my life, and I’d hated her for it ever since. But tonight, I was ending it. Ending it all. I grabbed one more item out of the box on my dresser. Glancing down at it, I wondered why I’d kept it all these years. Then I closed my fist around it, unable to look any longer. Snatching up

the picture of Sarah, I put it with Lennie’s. Then I grabbed my keys and coat and headed outside. It was bitterly cold, the air stinging my fingers. I cinched my coat tighter and held onto the items in my hand, not allowing them to get swept away by the breeze. My car sat near the curb waiting for me like a loyal friend. I hopped inside, tossing the pictures and one extra item on the passenger seat. They skittered over the leather as I drove through the San Francisco streets. I stopped at the store to get the

supplies. When I paid, the cashier gave me a funny look as if wondering what I was doing with the items I’d bought. I simply smiled. She could think what she wanted. Everyone did anyway. I knew exactly where I was going, and I made it there quickly. After turning off my car, I snatched the items and my bag from the store and opened the door. Stepping outside, I inhaled the salty, crisp air. It smelled clean, and I savored it before it changed. Before it was gone. Then I moved forward, gathering

courage to do what I came here to do.

31 Smoke rose in the sky, fire painting the inky black canvas in red splashes resembling blood. The flames danced in my eyes, swallowed me whole. Heat radiated against my flesh, melted my face. Closing my eyes, I succumbed to it. Welcomed it even. It was necessary. I’d lived with the pain too long. Held onto it, coddled it, ushered it into my life and babied it. And now I had no idea how to cut it from my life.

And I couldn’t live with it anymore. Plumes of smoke circled around me. Glancing down, I opened my hand. Sarah’s and Lennie’s face mingled, smiling up at me. I’d loved them both, and they’d both broken my heart. Sarah when she betrayed me, and Lennie when she chose Rob. I was still having trouble separating flesh and blood Lennie from imaginary Lennie, but there were moments that the distinction was clear. Our talks in the coffee shop, the time we went dancing, our one perfect kiss. I was

almost certain those were real. The pictures slid from my palm, fell into the fire. I listened to the crackle as they were singed, incinerated. I watched as their faces morphed, the photos curling over until they were nothing but ash and soot. Gulping in air, I looked at the remaining item. It was a button. Merely a button. A benign item. One that no one but me would find significant. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the smoke, remembering how I’d yanked it off of his shirt when I was clawing,

fighting, struggling. It wasn’t until I’d made it safely home that I found it in my palm, practically embedded in the flesh. There were moments when I’d pull it out, wondering. Wondering if I was strong enough to tell what he’d done. And I would wonder if this button would help me convict him. Would it be evidence? Would it be enough? In the end, I was never strong enough to come forward. Sometimes I’d think about all the other kids. I was sure

there were others. Didn’t men like him always strike again? I felt like a failure for letting them down. Lowering my hand, I watched the button fall into the flames as well. I stared intently as it swallowed the button whole. “I’m sorry,” I whispered over and over, to myself, to the other kids, to Sarah and to Lennie. Then I dropped to my knees in front of the fire, allowing the pain to consume me. To feel it the way I’d never allowed myself to do in

the past. Sobs racked my body, but I didn’t fight them. I cried for that eight-year-old boy, for the young adult who was ridiculed, for the man I was now. A man afraid of reality. I stayed on the ground until I couldn’t cry any longer. Until I’d poured out all my pain. Then I stood, brushing the sand from my knees. After putting out the fire, I walked back to my car. I drove off, leaving Lennie, Sarah, and the man in the

truck back on the beach, nothing more than a pile of ashes.

32 It was the same chicken dinner. The grandfather clock chimed, Ray’s fork scraped the plate, and Mom smiled too largely as I sat in the dining room in the house where time stood still. A shudder ran up my spine, but I kept eating. The chicken was rubbery like always, and I ended up almost choking. But I washed it down with a glass of water, the ice lodging in my throat. I drank some more until it melted.

“I finished reading the book. It was amazing, Colin.” Mom reached out, patting my arm. “I’m so proud of you for finishing.” “Thanks,” I responded. “And you are finished, right? With the story? With everything?” Mom threw me a knowing look. Ray stopped eating, his gaze bouncing up toward me. I could feel the heat of his stare boring a hole in the side of my face. I nodded. A sigh of relief could be heard at both ends of the table.

“Well, that’s just great,” Mom said in her cheery voice. “So, what’s the next step in trying to get the book published? You are going to try, right?” “Yeah.” I set down my fork, excited to share this part. “Actually, I’ve already started sending out query letters, and a couple of agents have already asked to take a look at the manuscript.” “Oh, that’s incredible.” Mom rubbed her palms together, bobbing her head toward Ray. “Isn’t that great?” Ray grunted in response. “See. Even Ray’s proud of you,”

Mom said. Why she was always trying to push a relationship between us I’d never understand. It was clear we were never going to be close. “Have you told your sister?” I shook my head. “Why not? She’ll be excited for you too,” Mom said. “I’ll call her later,” I said, simply to appease Mom. Amelia wouldn’t be excited for me. She didn’t care about anyone but herself. Mom’s perception of people was baffling to me.

After forcing down a few more bites of dinner, I was grateful to be excused. Ray had already gotten up from the table, and the noise from the television floated in from the family room. Mom stood, started clearing the table. I got up too, offering to help. “Aww, thank you.” She pressed a cold palm to my cheek. “You’re so sweet. I smiled, genuinely appreciating her kind words. After clearing the table, I found Mom in the kitchen doing the dishes. I leaned against the wall

observing her for a minute. Mom was proof that I could love. I’d loved her from birth. And I wished I could give her a life better than this one. Better than being married to a man who treated her more like a slave than a wife. Perhaps, I should have written a book for my mom instead of Lennie. As if sensing me watching, she peered over her shoulder. “Thank you, honey, for clearing the table, but I’ve got it from here.” I made my way across the kitchen, leaned against the tile counter.

“Mom, I kinda wanted to tell you something.” She turned off the faucet, dried her hands on a dishtowel. “More news?” Even though she still wore that damn smile, I could tell she was a little wary about what I might say. “Yeah.” My gaze fell to my shoes, nerves traveling up my chest and throat. “I um…sort of started seeing someone.” Her eyes widened. “Like a girl?” “No.” I shook my head vehemently, realizing I’d worded that

incorrectly. “A guy?” “No.” I chuckled, and Mom’s face smoothed out. “A doctor…well, not really a doctor. More like a shrink.” A smile swept across Mom’s face. A genuine one. I could always decipher the difference. I wasn’t sure anyone else could. “That’s wonderful, honey. Is he helping you?” Mom was the one who came with me the last time I’d tried therapy. Maybe “tried” is the wrong word. I was sort of forced into it after what happened

with Sarah. At that time the therapist threw around words that scared me. Words that I didn’t feel defined me. And he tried to make me take medicine. But I didn’t want to take medicine. I was afraid. Now I had a new fear. A fear of always being like this. Besides, I’d braved the hospital to save Lennie. I figured now I could brave it to save myself. “I’m not sure. Maybe not yet, but I’m hoping it will.” Mom’s face grew serious. Her

gaze flickered to the doorway of the kitchen. She grabbed me by the shoulders, moved her face close to mine. My heart thumped in my chest. I’d never seen her like this. “You tell that therapist everything, Colin. You hear me. Everything. It’s time to let it all go.” Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Oh, you’re my brave boy. You know that, right?” She drew me to her, wrapping her arms around me. I fell against her, allowing her words to wash over me. Whether they were true or not, I wanted to believe them. To believe that

I really was brave. “Thank you,” I whispered into her shoulder. Footsteps sounded outside the kitchen. Mom froze. Pulling back, she offered me a smile. It wasn’t real, but I returned it. She straightened her spine, ran her palms down her skirt. Ray stepped into the kitchen. I excused myself. As I passed Ray, our shoulders brushed. I glanced up at him briefly. “Heard what you said to your mom about seeing a shrink,” he said

gruffly, and I was reminded of how vehemently he tried to stop me from seeing one the last time. “You be careful what you say, son. Sometimes those shrinks can get you to think all kinds of things, and you already have such an active imagination.” I nodded, my gaze lowering to his flannel shirt. Ray wore the same thing all the time. As a kid I would search for his flannel shirt if we got disconnected in a crowd. A funny feeling descended in the pit of my stomach as I honed in on one of his buttons. Visions

of flames filled my mind, of ashes, of dust, of sand on the beach. My whole body heated up, my hands shaking. And suddenly it all came rushing back to me. I saw Ray’s truck careening into the parking lot of the gas station. He got out and walked toward me. I was crying, mad at him for leaving me. “I’ll make it up to you, son,” he said, ushering me to the truck. Amelia wasn’t with him. At first I felt special because we never got to ride in his truck. Earlier, we’d been in Mom’s car.

In the family car. As I sat in the seat next to Ray I felt like a grown up. Like it was a rite of passage. When he drove in the opposite direction of the house and pulled over into the woods, I was still excited, thinking it was an adventure. But I was wrong. So wrong. That night was the first time I made up a story. It was the only way to move past it. To live in the same house as him. And pretty soon I believed the story. I could even see the strange man

when I closed my eyes. It became my new truth. Unable to look at Ray, I ducked my head and hurried out of the kitchen. Trembling, I raced through the family room and out the front door. It was cold when I stepped outside, and I hugged myself as I made my way down the front steps and around the side of the house. I opened the door to the basement, and stepped inside. The reason my parents bought this house was because the basement had been converted into an apartment. At the time they’d been

looking for a home with a guest house that my grandma could live in, so this was perfect. Grandma had lived down here for several years before she passed away. Now it was my studio apartment. There were steps in the corner that led up to the kitchen but some of them were precarious so I never went that way. Instead I always used the side door. After locking up, I moved over to the kitchen table, sat in front of my laptop. I tried to forget what I’d remembered. Desperately, I attempted to conjure up

the memories of the man in the truck. The man who wasn’t my stepdad. But it was no use. Every time I saw that night for what it was. The man for who he was. Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my arms around myself. But I was still cold. And I feared I always would be. That I’d never escape it. That one day I’d turn into a block of ice. My gaze swept the room, memories of Lennie lingering in the air. Deep down I knew she’d never actually been here. Not flesh and blood Lennie. Imaginary Lennie had

been everywhere. Sprawled on my bed in the corner, lying on the couch watching TV, cuddled up beside me. Her presence filled the gaping hole in my heart, helped me to feel less lonely. But it didn’t keep the demons away. Nothing had been able to do that. I had thought that my book was the answer. The way I would heal. And there were moments it seemed to be doing that. But in the end, the novel was finished, and I was still alone. Still tormented. But, even if the first two novels weren’t the answer, I had to keep

trying. Didn’t they say that the third time was the charm? Turning toward my laptop, I opened it and stared at the blank document I’d pulled up days ago. I’d been trying to start a new novel, but nothing was coming to me. I was hoping that soon I’d be struck with that same spark of inspiration I’d had with the last book. Maybe if I could lose myself in a story I could outrun the memories that haunted me. Upstairs I heard loud voices, and my head snapped up. Great. They were fighting again.

Groaning, I covered my ears with my palms, wishing I could shut them out. Wishing I could shut him out. Wishing I could get rid of him for good.

33 Lennie left without saying goodbye. Even though I hadn’t come up with an idea for a new novel, I still went to the coffee shop every day. Mostly I surfed the net or submitted queries for my last novel. But there were days when I simply sat at the round table and sipped coffee, people watching. Still, it was better than being at my apartment. Ever since my revelation, it had been hard to

be home. I hadn’t been able to look at Ray, hadn’t gone to dinner. Mom tried to get me to talk, but I hadn’t said anything. At least not to her. I had been talking to my therapist, and I was praying for the courage to take action. But in the coffee shop I could forget, even if it was only temporary. It was the place where I felt comfortable. When I sat inside my chest expanded, air flowing freely, the tension falling away. The smell of freshly ground coffee would spin around me, cocooning me in its familiarity. This place was home.

“Hey, Colin?” a voice cut into my internal thoughts. When I looked up, I came face to face with Rob. What the hell was he doing here? “I was hoping to find you here.” His expression was somber, serious. “Can we talk for a minute?” Nodding, I motioned my hand out toward the empty seat across from me. The one Lennie used to sit in occasionally. After plopping down, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. He took a couple of breaths as

if gathering courage. “I have some bad news.” I fought against the urge to run away. Or to jump up and press my palm to his mouth. Anything to stop him from saying what I knew was coming. But that would be foolish. Not allowing him to say it wasn’t going to make it any less true. So I cleared my throat and nodded, willing him to continue. “Lennie’s gone. She a passed away a couple of days ago.” I’d been expecting this, but it

still felt like a dagger to my heart. Emotion rose up inside of me, clawing at my insides. Visions of Lennie filled my mind. Not imaginary Lennie. Flesh and blood Lennie. The one with the pale skin and skeletal figure. The one I’d held in my arms and carried to the hospital. The one who shared her love of reading with me. Who loved happy endings, fed homeless men and was a terrible dancer. The girl who’d been compassionate to me when we were teens. The sadness I felt was like nothing I’d ever experienced. It enveloped me, pressing

in on all sides. A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed it down not wanting to cry in front of Rob. When I was finally able to speak, I looked at Rob and whispered, “I-I’m sorry.” He shifted uncomfortably, cleared his throat. “Well, um…her service is next week. I brought you the information. I’m sure she’d want you there.” He handed me a wrinkled piece of paper. “Also, she gave me this.” He pulled out another piece of paper. This one was folded into a small square. “It’s for you.”

Lifting my hand, I tentatively grabbed it with my fingers. “Thanks,” I breathed. When he started to get up, I stopped him. “Was she happy? At the end, I mean?” He paused, as if thinking. Finally he said, “She was at peace.” I nodded, satisfied. Maybe that was as good as it got. He threw me a pensive look. “I read your book to her.” I stopped breathing, my air supply cut off. “It was….interesting,” he said

dryly, but in his eyes I saw all of the things he wasn’t saying. I had changed the names in the book to Laura and Cole, but he knew it was about Lennie and me. That was obvious. I wondered how much he really knew about the relationship I had with Lennie. What we had was nothing more than a blip. A tiny sliver of her existence. Rob took up a much larger piece. Still, it was significant to me. The way she acted at the end told me it wasn’t as significant to her, but I suppose none of that mattered now.

“Well, I guess I’ll see ya around.” Rob glanced at me one more time, briefly, before heading back out into the cold. After he left, I unfolded the paper, and ironed out the creases with a shaky, sweaty hand. Colin, Thank you for letting me read your novel. It was beautiful. I’m sure it will become a bestseller. I’m sorry I won’t be here to see that. But I’m happy to know that you did end up going with the happy ending.

Lennie Smiling, I read through the letter again. As I did, I could practically hear her voice, as if she was sitting across from me. And it seemed fitting that I would read the letter here in this coffee shop. It was the place I’d first seen Lennie again. It was the place we reconnected. It was the place I wrote our story. The place where I created the happy ending she wanted so badly.

EPILOGUE It was my first book reading and signing. My book had released last week, and already it had become a bestseller. Woman of all ages stood with my novel pressed to their chest, waiting for a chance to meet me. They waited with bated breath to hear me read an excerpt. Behind me was a large banner displaying my photograph and the cover of my book. Mom stood off to the side, beaming. Ray was gone. And, by that, I

mean truly gone. As in dead, gone. As in, he died in his sleep. Massive heart attack. I wish I could say that I was sad when he passed, but I wasn’t. In fact, I was happy he was gone. I’d daydreamed about killing him myself many times, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of ruining my life for good. My only regret was that he never got to see how successful I had become, especially since he was the reason I started telling stories to begin with. Now here I was, making a living spinning

fiction. As I opened the book to the passage I’d highlighted, a few of the women leaned forward, smiling anxiously. It felt surreal. Like it was nothing more than a dream. But it wasn’t a dream. It was real. Still, I pinched myself. When I felt the sting of my fingertips squishing my skin, I nodded. This was real, all right. Sometimes I had to make sure. Clearing my throat, I started

reading: “Can I come in?” She asked, her gaze not quite meeting mine. Nodding, I moved out of the way to let her pass. She walked inside, much like the last time, looking frail, unsure, a little timid. “I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday,” she started, still not looking directly at me. Her gaze shot around the room as if it was a fly that was afraid to land. “I…um…I guess I wasn’t really ready to talk to you about everything. I felt confused, and…I don’t know.” She paused, breathing deeply. “I’ve really

enjoyed our time together, and I didn’t know if I was ready for it to end. But I also love him. We’ve been together a long time. And we’ve been through a lot.” It was obvious where she was going with this, so I steeled myself. Her gaze bounced to mine. She looked at me head on for the first time since walking inside. “But you’re right. He wasn’t there for me when I needed him most. You were.” She stepped forward, bridging the gap between us. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t upfront with

you from the beginning. That I didn’t tell you he was here. I understand if you’re upset with me.” “Where is he now?” I interrupted her. “Gone. He went home this morning.” The floor flew out from beneath me. “Does this mean?” It seemed too good to be true. “That you…well… you’re choosing me?” “If you’ll have me. I mean, I know I’ve been acting strange and--” Curving my hand around her

cheek, I drew her to me and stamped my mouth over hers, silencing her words. I didn’t need to hear any more. She had chosen me. That was all that mattered. I kissed her hard. Harder than I ever had before. But she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she responded with the same amount of vigor. Her hands slid up my spine, tangled in the ends of my frayed hair. I brought my other hand up to frame her face and deepened the kiss. Our tongues engaged in a sensual dance, their moves manic and desperate. We kissed until my lips were swollen, until I felt

dizzy. Then we disengaged, our foreheads falling together. Our breathing was loud and labored as it mingled together. “I’m sorry about everything,” she finally said. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I told her firmly. “I understand why you were conflicted. I even understand why you didn’t tell me.” I picked my head up off her sweaty forehead. “All I care about is that you’re here. I only want to be with you. That’s all that matters to me. Don’t you know

that by now?” When I looked up from the book, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But then the clapping started. A few woman even hooted and hollered. It was clear they enjoyed the snippet. Not that I blamed them. It was one of my favorite parts too. In real life, Lennie had chosen him, but no one had to know that. The manager at the bookstore gathered all the women into a line as I made my way to the table where all of my books were set up. After sitting in the

fold out chair, I snatched up the sharpie they’d put out for me. When I glanced up, the first woman was standing before me thrusting her book into my arms. “Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe I’m meeting you. I just loved the book,” she gushed. “Thanks,” I said, opening her book and scrawling my signature on the first page. “You can make it out to Rhonda,” she said. Oh. Right. I hadn’t even thought about addressing it to her. I was glad she

said something. Peering up at Mom, she gave me a subtle nod. It was clear that she was proud, and it gave me the jolt I needed to continue. I wrote the woman’s name on the book along with some phrase thanking her for reading my book. Then the manager ushered her away and another woman appeared. As I signed this woman’s book, a flash of blond hair caught my attention. My head bounced up, my breath hitching in my throat. Lennie? My pulse quickened, my hand

suspended over the book on the table. “Colin?” The manager touched my shoulder. “We have to keep the line moving.” “Right.” I scribbled my signature and shoved the book toward the woman in front of me. Then I looked up, but Lennie was gone. Where did she go? “Hi, I’m Susan,” a woman said, sidling up to the table. “Hi, Susan,” I said politely, reaching for her book. But still my gaze scoured the place. Finally I found her blond hair.

She’d gotten in line. Had she come here for me to sign her book? Giddiness filled me. For the next fifteen minutes I signed book after book, all the while keeping track of Lennie’s blond hair from the corner of my eye. By the time she got to the front of the line, my fingers were cramped, my wrist sore. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was seeing Lennie again. When she reached the table, I peered up at her and my stomach tumbled to my feet. Not Lennie. Just a woman with a similar look.

“Oh, my god.” The woman who wasn’t Lennie clutched her chest. “I’m fangirling so hard right now. You have no idea. You are like totally my favorite author. The way you write about love is just…” she sighed. “There are no words.” My lips twitched at the corners. She reminded me of the old Lennie. Of the girl she was in high school. “I mean, you must be the most romantic guy in the world. It’s so good that I seriously thought you had to be a girl.” “What?” I asked, surprised.

“Yeah, like you were writing under a pen name or something.” “Nope. I’m definitely a guy,” I said, feeling bold. She pushed her book in my direction. “Name?” I asked her. “Daphne,” she replied. “This book was seriously epic. I read it in like one sitting. And it just felt so real. I could totally relate to the characters. Maybe it was partly because I work at Java Jett’s, so I like live in a coffee shop. But I also could totally relate to

Laura.” She leaned down giving me a conspiratorial look. “I think because I’ve had some health problems and I just got out of a serious relationship.” She pulled back, throwing me a wink. “Now I just need to find out where my Cole is.” My heart skipped a beat. When I handed the book back to her our fingertips brushed. A chill ran up my spine. She had the same color blue in her eyes that Sarah did. “And I just loved the ending. It was perfect. I mean, what woman

doesn’t love a happy ending?” “Ma’am, you need to move along,” the bookstore manager said to Daphne. Desperation bloomed in my chest as she moved away from the table. I opened my mouth to call out to her, but another woman’s voice cut into my words. “Hi, I’m Karen.” A woman with a bad perm and too much makeup stood in front of me, blocking my view of Daphne. I moved to the side to look around her, but couldn’t find Daphne

anywhere. I hadn’t written a word since I finished this book, but suddenly a flood of scenes filled my mind, and they all featured Daphne – her blond hair, blue eyes and bubbly personality. As I signed the remainder of the books that night, I made plans to see her again. She’d told me where she worked, so I knew I could find her. And I had to find her. I had no choice. She was my new muse.

THE END Sign up for my newsletter to get release information, exclusive giveaways, and insider information: http://eepurl.com/sp8Q9

AUTHOR’S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT The idea for this story came to me while I was in the middle of writing PLAY NICE, the third book in the Make the Play Series. Colin came to me late one night, sharing his story with me. It was intriguing and I found myself wanting to know more. Over the next few days Colin’s voice became louder and louder, to the point where he drowned out the

voices of the characters in PLAY NICE. At this point, I realized I had to set my current book aside and dive into MARK MY WORDS. Lennie’s character came to me easily. Her name was already on my lips, already streaming from my fingers. It was a name I never would’ve chosen, but I knew it was her name. I knew because Colin told me. The more I wrote Colin and Lennie’s story, the more clear it became that Colin was an unreliable narrator. He lied to me, he manipulated me, he was creepy, he was dark, and he was elusive.

The truth is that at first I thought he was an honorable guy. And I thought the story was going to be a sappy romance. Boy was I wrong. But I followed Colin, even when it scared me, even when I knew it was risky. And the result is a book that’s completely different than my other books, but a book that I’m extremely proud of. From day one I knew Lennie was sick, but I didn’t always know what she had. This is one detail that I didn’t get from Colin. In the end, I decided that Lennie would have melanoma, and I did

that for a very personal reason. Back when I was around nineteen years old, I met a girl named Lisa. She had the most beautiful smile and cheery disposition and we became fast friends. We hung out a lot, talking about God and our futures, laughing, and having fun. Around that time she started dating Gary, the man who would become her husband and I started dating Andrew. Still we remained close. Then we got married, had kids and drifted apart a little, as friendships tend to do. But Lisa always remained in my heart and we did

connect from time to time. Six years ago Lisa was diagnosed with stage 3 melanoma. I feel selfish saying that it devastated me, but it did. I had a really hard time understanding how someone so young and vibrant, someone who had 3 small children and a loving husband could receive this kind of news. The truth is that I’ve wrestled with it ever since. But Lisa is truly an inspiration to me. She still has the most amazing smile and cheery disposition. She has a strong faith in God, and being with her fills me with

joy. She is an incredible person. One I aspire to be like. Even when her cancer spread to the point that it was upgraded to stage 4, she astonished me with her positive attitude and zest for life. And I wanted to write this for her. I wanted to shed light on a type of cancer that is widely misunderstood. It’s not simply skin cancer. It’s cancer. It spreads and spreads fast. But Lisa is still here with us. In fact, she helped me with the facts of this story. Her treatment is working, and I pray daily for a

miracle for her. I would love for you to do the same. The God I serve is the God of miracles, and I will continue to believe that he can and will heal my friend. As always, I have many people to thank for helping with this book: Lisa Richardson – my superstar editor! I can’t thank you enough! Alivia Anders – the cover is beyond perfect. You are so incredibly talented. Megan Squires – for reading as I wrote and encouraging me along the

way. My fan club – for your constant support! Andrew – for encouraging me to follow my heart on this one. For understanding the financial risk of trying out a new genre, but for telling me to go for it anyway. Eli – for listening to my ideas for this story and helping me decide what works and what doesn’t. Kayleen – for understanding when I had to take time to work even when you were home. And for giving me

the space to do that. And mostly, thank you to God, everything I have comes from you. And everything I do is for you. Amber

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amber Garza is the author of the bestselling Playing for Keeps Series, as well as many other bestselling young adult romance novels including Tripping Me Up and The Summer We Fell. She also has several new adult and adult romance novels including Break Free, Star Struck and Head Above Water. She has had a passion for the written word since she was a child making books out of notebook paper and staples. Her hobbies include reading and singing. Coffee and wine are her drinks of choice

(not necessarily in that order). She writes while blaring music, and talks about her characters like they’re real people. She currently lives in California with her amazing husband, and two hilarious children who provide her with enough material to keep her writing for years.