Eight Days (Love Always #1.5) (2 page)

“My shift starts in five hours, Tammy. I’m gonna find out, so you may as well tell me now.” I’m being a dick. Sure, it annoys me that she’s dancing around the issue, but to have any shot at getting the three numbers out of her, I need to watch my tone. I grin, hoping the dimples Kate stares at all the time work on nurses too.

Apparently they do.

Tammy sighs. “310. Her parents are with her now.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Tammy.”

Room 310 is only a dozen steps away, the door cracked open. I knock softly and enter even though I haven’t been invited. Before bowing out of her life, I need to know she’ll be okay.

Two sets of eyes swing in my direction, but I don’t see them. I only see her. IVs stick out of her hands, tubes poke into her, and cords hooked up to machines surround the bed. Her eyelids are closed, and some hose is doing the breathing for her.

I stand frozen, unable to rip my gaze away. Something in my chest makes it hard to suck in air. She looks so fragile, like she could break at any second. Shatter into a million pieces.

And all I want to do is hold her. Sweep her up in my arms and never let go.

Guilt swells inside me, and my heart literally hurts. An hour ago I was screwing Ellie and trying to convince myself that I needed to back out of Kate’s life. I’m a fucking asshole.

“Damian.” Marcy stands up, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“What’s going on? Is Kate okay?” I barely get the words out.

“It’s viral,” Marcy croaks out, her voice breaking. “It, uh, has to run its course, but Kate…she, um, her immune system can’t fight it because she’s so weak from the chemo.”

The medication that’s supposed to kill the cancer is making it so she can’t fight off normal viral shit?

“So, what does that mean?” I ask, confused.

Marcy swipes away another tear. If Marcy is crying, this thing is bad. Real bad. “Dr. Lowell—your dad—put her in a medicated coma.”

What the fuck?

“She has to fight through this. Putting her under means her body only has to concentrate on one thing: killing the virus,” Marcy explains.

I don’t fully comprehend. What hits me, though, is that she might not pull through this. The virus could kill her, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to handle that.

I nod toward Kate. “Can I?”

Marcy offers a slight smile. “She’d want you to.”

In slow motion, I walk around the foot of the bed, studying her. Her chest rises and falls, and I hold my breath for a second, waiting for the next rise. I can’t help but wonder how many more times I’ll see that happen.

I lower myself into a chair opposite Mr. Browdy. He’s holding Kate’s hand to his lips like he won’t let go until she opens her eyes again. I get that because it’s how I feel at the moment too.

He glances up at me as I take Kate’s other hand. I meet his gaze, but I can’t read it. Right now, I don’t really give a fuck if he doesn’t approve of me being here. Kate’s all that matters.

I kiss her fingers. They feel so good against my lips, and I know Kate’s drawing me to her again. I don’t know how she does it.

The thought that I’m already in too deep comes to me. There’s no walking away.

Day 1

I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I wake up, I have Kate’s hand folded in mine. Mr. Browdy is gone, and Marcy is in the corner reading what looks like a medical textbook. Three more are stacked beside her on the floor. The machines buzzing in my ears remind me of reality: Kate’s in a coma fighting for her life.

Marcy seems pretty engrossed in the book, and last night she assured me that Kate could still hear us in her medicated state. I doubt it.

“Hey there,” I say to her anyway, and honestly I feel like a shithead. My late night hour with Ellie reels through my mind, and I automatically wipe a palm across my mouth. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

I’m not sure exactly what I’m apologizing for. Fucking Ellie? Fucking Ellie while I should have been with her? Or that Kate is even here in the first place?

I want to tell her I won’t leave her, but I can’t promise that. She deserves better than me. And I deserve…

I think of Liam’s disgusted glare when he walked out of our house the last time—how I was supposed to be the one who went with Mom that evening.

…to be where Kate is. It should be me.

“I take it you’re not helping out today?” Tammy asks, walking in with a chart and pulling me out of the memory.

“I will in here.”

The nurse smiles at me, approving what I said.

Marcy peeks up from her book but doesn’t say anything. Standard hospital procedures are probably old hat for her.

Tammy studies the print out from one of the machines and checks Kate’s IV. “Behind you, Damian: can you read me her blood pressure numbers?”

I twist around and peer at the monitor. “Uh, one ten over seventy-five.” Whatever that means.

Tammy makes a face and jots the numbers down, sighing. “All right, I’ll be back in an hour,” she says to Marcy. “Dr. Lowell should be making rounds soon.”

“Thank you, Tammy.” Marcy lays her book on her lap and rubs her temples. “I’m going to the cafeteria for some lunch. You should grab something to eat too,” she tells me.

I nod. “When you get back. That way Kate’s not alone.” The words roll off my tongue, and it takes me a second to realize that I’d actually said them.

I think I see a tear glistening in Kate’s mother’s eye when she grins at me. “Okay. I won’t be long.”

As soon as she leaves, I stand up and kiss Kate on the forehead. Her skin feels amazingly soft against my lips, and I take my time withdrawing them. “You can fight this, Katie.”

I sink back into the chair and take her hand, gliding my thumb over the pale skin. Kate’s a proven warrior, and I believe in her. She’s stronger than anyone I know.

And that’s the hitch.

I throw a glance at the door and immediately consider making an escape. Unlike Kate, I’m not strong. Holding onto her, letting her inside, is fucked up. More fucked up than cutting my losses and getting the hell out.

But she already has me. Somehow, Kate lured me in.

Suddenly it hits me that losing her on my terms is less scary than the alternative. But even that doesn’t scare the shit out of me as much as realizing that I care about her. It’s fucking suicide.

What is it about this girl that has me sitting here, hoping to God she’ll wake up and smile at me again?

I slide two fingers down her cheek and over her lips. She doesn’t flinch, and it’s as if she can’t feel me. Something jabs into the pit of my stomach. I’d give anything to hear her voice right now. The sweet naïveté she wears is gorgeous on her, and for whatever the reason, makes me want to protect her from the world’s monsters. Monsters like me.

Except, I can’t do a damn thing about the monster that’s killing her.

I
can’t save her.

~*~

“Okay, I’m back. You go,” Marcy says when she comes in.

“Yeah,” I agree. “I’m gonna run home, I think.”

“Has your dad been in yet?”

“No.”
Thank God.
“I’m sure he will be soon.”

On my way out, I run into Leslie. I know I’m on her shit list, but I couldn’t care less. I’m not volunteering at this godforsaken hospital by choice, and I’ve made that perfectly clear to my father and his precious staff.

This nurse, though, hates me more than the others; she remembers my brother.

“How’s Kate?” she asks.

The question strikes me as odd. What am I supposed to say? The truth? Well, the fucking truth is that she’s so goddamn sick that my dad knocked her out, and she may never wake up. But hey, Leslie knows that.

“Go see for yourself,” I scoff and brush past her.

I drive home, and my first stop is the liquor cabinet. Dad keeps it fully stocked even though he’s never home and he rarely drinks. I guess he thinks that if he keeps me happy, I’ll stay the hell out of his way.

It works.

Not bothering with a glass, I snatch a bottle of Jack and take a long swig. Damn, that’s good stuff. I hold the cap in my hand and stare at it. I should twist it back on, gather my stuff, and go back to the hospital, but I don’t. Instead, I take another drink and haul it with me to my room.

I’m not sure why I pack a bag of clothes. I just do. I grab my guitar too.

After dropping my shit by the bedroom door, I strip down and stand under the shower. Ellie is still on me, and for the first time in my life, I can’t stand it. If I really care about Kate, then what the hell am I doing with Ellie? She’s my brother’s girlfriend, not mine.
Not mine!

I press my forehead against the tile. When did life get so fucking complicated?

As the hot water begins to cool, I shut it off and swipe the Jack off the counter. I don’t bother with a towel. I sit on the edge of my bed and hold the bottle between my legs. Tapping the neck with one hand, I wipe the other over my face. Then, I gulp down another swash of amber as Liam re-enters my mind.

Suddenly, I’m fifteen again and Liam is with me at the kitchen table, helping me with my chemistry assignment.

“Close, Damian. It’s actually tetrahedral; hydrogen can’t have a double bond,” he says, flipping to the back of the textbook to show me.

“I’m never going to understand this,” I say, frustrated.

“You’re a sophomore taking senior chem. You can handle this.”

I shake my head. “I’m not like you. Or Dad.”

Liam grins, but he knows I’m right. I’ll never be like either of them. “You don’t have to be us. Be yourself.”

“Nobody likes me for me. They like me for you.”

Liam sighs because he understands. He’s overheard the teachers at school. And Dad. He hears Dad all the time. “I never meant to put pressure on you. You know that, right?” Liam says.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll always be compared to you.”

“Let me talk to Dad. Maybe you can switch schools in the fall, somewhere no one knows me, and you can focus on your music.”

“He’ll never agree to that, but thanks.”

He grips my shoulder and squeezes. “You never know, Damian.”

“I know Dad, and I know how the world works. Being like the two of you guarantees I’ll be successful someday.”

Liam is silent for a moment, his gaze wandering to the sliding glass doors. “Don’t be so sure. The world is bigger than you, little brother. Bigger than all of us.”

I take another drink to wash away the memory and put the cap back on. I have a buzz going now, though it’s not enough to numb my mind. What I really want is to drown myself in the rest of this bottle and another one. Instead, I shake the loose water off my hair and get dressed. Before I leave, I rinse my mouth out with Listerine, getting rid of the whiskey and what’s left of Ellie so I can pretend I’m the man Kate deserves.

The man Liam was.

~*~

I drop off my bag and guitar in Dad’s office before slipping into Kate’s room. Marcy’s dozing in the corner where I left her, the giant book almost falling off her lap.

I return to the chair beside Kate’s bed. Taking her hand, I clasp the tiny thing between both of mine. Before I say anything, I steal a glance over my shoulder at Marcy to make sure she’s still asleep. She is.

“I’m back, baby,” I say, pressing it against my lips. “I’ve been thinking, Katie, and I, uh, I have a compromise for you. A deal, if you’ll accept it. You fight this thing and wake up, and I’ll do my damnedest to be better. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll sure as fuck try. Just come back to me.”

For some reason, fate put her in my life, and since I can’t walk away, I’m going to do whatever it takes to figure out why. All I know is if she beats this virus, I’ll have my work cut out for me to uphold my end of the bargain.

I study Kate’s face. Lifeless and thin, it tears at me. This isn’t her.

I think back to when I first met her. She’s perceptive, honest, sweet, hopeful, and brave—all the things I’m not. Leukemia is the catalyst that shows the world how wonderful she really is.

I kiss her again. “Come back to me.”

~*~

With visiting hours over for the night, I wander into Dad’s office. He’s not there, and I figure he went home. I check my phone, half-expecting Ellie to have called, but the screen is empty. I’m not sure what to do about her right now.

I fall onto the leather sofa and strum some random chords on my guitar to clear my mind. Whatever I played resonates with me, and I do it again.

I hum out a melody with it this time. Words form on the tip of my tongue, and they flow out of me as I play.

Here I am, hiding,

Writing out my story; tell me it’s boring or is it

All the same

Lines with lyrics

Unexpected, will there be a happy ending?

No, I’m not there yet.

I stop playing for a moment. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start. I jot down the lyrics and keep going until I have something decent. The song has definite potential. Oftentimes, my music tells me more about myself than I ever could.

If only it would speak faster because I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.

~*~

I sit beside Kate, holding her hand again. The beeping from the machines in the room has dulled with time, and now I barely hear them.

The Browdys are here too, but no one says anything. We just stare droopy-eyed at Kate, waiting for some sign of life.

Dad walks in, his gaze trained on the floor. I tighten my grip on Kate, too scared to hear what I assume he’s going to say. He has that expression on his face. The one that’s not good.

I can’t let go of her.

He clears his throat before he speaks. “I received the results of Kate’s tests.”

Mr. Browdy puts an arm around his wife and pulls her close. Fear exudes from Marcy as she shakes her head with a hand over her mouth. We all know what’s coming.

A familiar knot twists in my chest. Is this really happening?

“The virus was stronger than we expected. I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can do.”

I need someone to blame because losing Kate is unfair. She’s too young to die, and I can’t go through this again. I fight the urge to jump up and beat the shit out of my father. It’s his fault. He should have done more. He should have—

I choke back a sob and bury my face into Kate’s stomach. “Wake up, Katie. Please, wake up.”