What's Left of Me (33 page)

“Who called?”
 
Jean looks down at my lighted phone.

“Parker.”

“Again?
 
Why don’t you just answer?”

“Because he needs to get the hint.
 
This was never supposed to be about starting a relationship.
 
I didn’t want this.”

“Didn’t want what?
 
To have a man care for you, or to fall in love?”

“I’m not in love with him.”

“Sure, and I don’t love sex.”

Rolling my eyes, I walk away from her.
 
It’s what I’m best at.
 
I don’t want to talk, so I walk away.

The house has become packed since classes let out.
 
The music is so loud that it rumbles against the walls.
 
I need some space from Jean, if only for a minute, so I walk out into the house with my head held high.
 
There are random bodies on the stairs, couch, and even on the kitchen table.

Opening the fridge, I take out a bottle of water.
 
Just as I’m about to close the door, a deep voice asks, “Hey, what happened to her face?”
 
Closing the door, I keep my back to them.
 
With a calming breath, I turn around to confront the guy, but before I can open my mouth, Jean’s voice fills the room, cussing the guy and his friend out.
 
He mumbles an apology, and walks away.

I meet her sad eyes.
 
“I can fight my own battles.”

“I know.”
 
She steps around me, getting her own water out of the fridge.
 
“But what fun would that be?” she says with a smile.

As she leaves the kitchen, she calls out behind her, “It’s okay if you love him.”

Walking quickly to catch up with her, I reply, “I know, but I don’t.”

“Not even a little?”

“Nope.”

Maybe.
 
Yes?

“Liar.”

I’ve never been in love.
 
I thought I loved Adam, but who isn’t in love when they’re seventeen?
 
There is so much meaning to the word that I’m not even sure those who say it really fully understand the power behind it.

It’s more than just passion.

Love is handing yourself over to someone.
 
It’s being able to trust them by giving them full access to your everything.
 
Even if that means allowing them to break your heart.

I want to give Parker my heart.
 
I just don’t know if I can handle him breaking it.

Jean gathers her clothes and heads off to take a shower before bed, which is my cue to slip into mine.

While I’m getting into my pajamas my phone vibrate, again.

I wait until I’ve crawled into her warm bed and pulled the comforter all the way to my neck before checking it.
 
It can only be one of three people: Parker, Genna, or Mom.

Genna:
Parker showed up a while ago. He came for poker, but I could tell he was looking for you the entire time. He seems really mad.
 
He was asking me a lot of questions. Call him!

When I’m about to throw my phone, it buzzes with another text.
 
This time from Parker.

Mr. Handsome:
What is going on? Why are you ignoring me?
 
Genna said you went to Jean’s to get away. From what? Me?

Me:
Parker, I’m sorry.

It’s all I can think of to say right now.

Mr. Handsome:
For what?

Mr. Handsome:
Quitting the clinic?
 
Or ignoring me?

Me:
I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I told you that. I think we need to pull back for a while. I’m sorry.

Mr. Handsome:
Pull back? What happened to change your mind? What aren’t you telling me?!

Me:
I just need some time. I can’t breathe.

It’s the truth; I can’t. But not because of him.
 
Because of everything else in my life.

Mr. Handsome:
I’ll give you some space, but this is not over.

I don’t reply.
 
I don’t know what I want.
 
I don’t want to end anything.
 
I just want to think about how to tell him.
 
I throw my phone on the floor.

I miss him.

Jean walks in wearing her maroon and gold university sweats.
 
Her hair is sitting high on top of her head in a messy bun, and her contacts are replaced with glasses.

“Whoa … What happened?”

Sliding over in bed, I make room for her to scoot in next to me.

“I miss him,” I say, staring at the ceiling.

“I’d hate to see what you do when you miss me.”

I roll my eyes.

“Call him.
 
Tell him everything is fine, and make plans to see him when you get home, then tell him everything.”

“I can’t call him right now.”

“Yes, you can.
 
It’s like riding a bike.
 
You pick up the phone, scroll through your contacts, and find the number next to the name Parker.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“You deserve to be happy, Aundrea.
 
You know I’ll support you in any decision, but it’s not fair to make a decision for him based on what you think he’ll say or do.”
 
I listen to her words and know every one of them is true.
 
“You need to tell him.
 
Let him make the decision if he stays or goes.
 
You’ll learn real fast what kind of man he is.”

I know I want to give my heart to him.
 
Just the sound of his voice, the deep rumbles that move through my body when he laughs, or the butterflies I get with just one look.
 
The little finger locks, knee bumps, winks, and temple kisses.
 
They’re all things I miss.
 
I miss him.
 
How just a thought of him can make me weak in the knees.
 
There’s more than just an attraction.
He cares so much about others, life, and family.
 
I’ve never met someone so passionate about saving the world one animal at a time.
 
I love his ability to make me laugh and forget everything around me.
 
He’s become my reason to want to get better.

Someone once told me that it’s not about whether there is life after you die, but whether you’re alive before you die.
 
I didn’t believe I could ever feel alive again.
 
Not until Parker.

Chapter Eighteen

I’m sitting on the couch talking to my parents when the doorbell rings, followed by knocking.

Jean drove me home Tuesday afternoon.
 
She convinced me—or maybe I convinced myself—to come back and confront the piece of my life I’ve been trying so hard to avoid.
 
We stayed up well into the morning talking about our fears, life, high school, and even parts of our future.
 
She reminded me of how I’ve never wanted cancer to run my life, and I was doing just that by walking away from Parker.

I promised myself I would tell him.

When I was ready.

“Can someone get that for me?” Genna calls from upstairs.

“Yeah!” I yell back.

Making my way out of the living room, I head into the foyer to open the door.
 
Unfortunately for me, Genna and Jason have a window next to their front door, so whoever is there can see in.
 
And, in this case, it’s Parker who can see me walking toward him.

My hands move to the head wrap that is securely in place instead of the wig that has become itchier with each passing day.
 
I reach the edges, trying to pull it further down, as if it’s not already covering every inch of my hairless scalp.

He looks sad.
 
His hair is a mess and he has dark bags under his eyes.
I try to tell my brain to send some kind of signal to my mouth to form words, but nothing leaves my lips.

“Aundrea, please open the door,” he begs, his eyes pleading with me.

Just hearing his voice makes me want to step closer to him.
 
I’ve missed his voice more than anything this last week.
 
Parker is the only person to whom I can’t justify showing a part of me that was never meant to be seen.

Instead of moving to open the door, I mouth, “I’m sorry” before turning around and walking back to the living room.

My heart breaks with each step I take away from him.

The pounding on the door gets louder, followed by Parker yelling my name and the doorbell ringing nonstop.

“Honey, who is at the door?” my mom asks in a worried tone.

My dad moves to a standing position like he’s ready for battle.
 
Before I can answer her, or my dad’s unspoken words, Genna comes running down the stairs.

“Aundrea!
 
What is wrong with you?
 
Why didn’t you let Parker in?”
 
She rushes past me to the door.

“Parker’s here?” both my parents ask in unison.

I don’t answer.
 
I just turn away from them and head to my room.
 
At least there I can pretend none of this is happening and that the one thing I tried to keep away from the person that matters the most is not about to come out.

I can’t face him.
 
Not yet.
 
I’m being childish, I know, but until everyone finds themselves in my shoes and feels the hollowness I carry inside, then they can’t judge me.

Just as I make it to my room, I hear my parents asking Genna what’s going on and Parker’s loud footsteps approach.

I lock the door and sink against it, bringing my knees up to my chest.
 
Resting my head back, I wrap by arms tightly around myself.

“Aundrea, please just talk to me.
 
Tell me what I did.
 
Please!
 
I can fix it.
 
Just, please ... God.”
 
His voice breaks through the door, and I can’t help the tear that fall.

“Parker.” My voice breaks, so I clear my throat.
 
“Parker, I’ll call you later, okay?
 
I promise.”

“No.
 
I’m not leaving here.
 
You have been ignoring me all week.
 
I need you to talk to me.”

“Parker, is everything okay here?” Genna asks.

“I need to talk to your sister.”

“Aundrea … Why don’t you let Parker in and talk to him.”

“I can’t.”
 
It comes out as a whisper, and I’m not sure if either of them heard me.

I want to talk to him so badly, but I know after this everything will change between us.
 
Deep down, I know it already has changed, but if I can just imagine for one more second that everything is perfect, then maybe it will make all this pain go away.

“Aundrea, Mom and Dad are asking questions.
 
I suggest you talk to Parker before Dad comes over here and gets involved in whatever you’ve got going on.”

Parker is the first person who makes me feel normal.
 
He makes me forget about all the wrongs in the world: my cancer, the treatments, and all the insecurities that go with it.

He makes me feel happy, complete, and, most importantly, loved.

I can survive cancer.

I
will
survive cancer.

But I know for a fact that I will not survive losing Parker if he can’t look past the disease and see what lies beneath.

“Please open the door, Aundrea.”
 
His voice is softer.
 
I can picture him, head resting against the door and hand on the knob, waiting for me to let him in.

I take a deep sigh.
 
Reaching up with one hand, I unlock the door and slide out of the way.

The door is pushed open slowly.
 
All I see are his black Steve Madden shoes coming to stand in front of me.

He doesn’t speak.
 
I just hear a soft sigh of relief as he crouches in front of me.

My heartbeat is fast and irregular.
 
I try to calm my breathing, counting to ten in my head.

When I finally do lift my eyes to his, I’m not met with passion and desire.
 
These eyes are different.
 
They’re the eyes of a confused man, unsure of who is sitting before him.

There is no movement.
 
Not from him or me.
 
Our eyes stay locked and I swear I’m not breathing.
 
I can hear the blood flowing in my veins, building pressure in my ears.