Along The Way

Chapter 21 - When I Put Myself First

| Dylan |

"I HAD A brain tumor."

The weight of her words crushed my chest and threatened to tear me apart. Suddenly, I was eleven years old again, sitting in the hospital's waiting room, clutching Reed's hand and staring into my uncle Tate's ravaged face as he told us our parents weren't coming back. I found myself shaking my head, just as I'd done then, refusing to accept they were gone.

My gaze roamed over her face searching for some evidence, hoping, f**king praying that I'd misheard, yet as my gaze bounced between those green eyes I'd come to know so well, I knew.

I could deny it until I was blue in the face, but that wouldn't change the past or erase the trepidation visible on her face as she took in my every reaction.

It took every ounce of self-control to grab her chin and hold her gaze when all I wanted was to pound my fist into something.

I wouldn't let anyone take her away from me.

F**k me. I couldn't.

I wasn't sure I'd survive it.

Not again.

Just the thought of loosing her sent a sharp pain through my chest. One would have thought I had learned my lesson the night my parents died: caring about someone left you vulnerable to the tragic twists of fate.

And yet, I still went to sleep every f**king night thinking about her.

"When?" The words sounded torn from somewhere deep within me.

Nervously, she touched her tongue to her lips. My eyes followed the movement, helpless to the pull she had over me. "I was diagnosed a few weeks before I turned ten."

F**king hell.

She'd been a kid.

It was hard to admit that during our early encounters I'd thought her a spoiled rich girl---as if class could save you from tragedy. For the past months my impression of her had gone from spoiled to sweet to someone I couldn't bare to lose.

"I had to undergo surgery, so they could remove it. They told my parents to pray for a miracle." She continued. "I pulled through, but my parents' relationship took a hit. My father took on more and more work, he is hardly home these days. Mom doesn't discuss it, but I know they barely speak to each other."

I slid my hand to cup the back of her head, pulling her closer. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

She stared into my eyes as her soft words whispered across my skin. "Everyone I know treats me with kid gloves. I guess I just didn't want you to look at me differently."

I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against hers and working to control the emotions going through me. It killed me that she'd think I'd ever look at her any other way. She was light, she was smiles, she was warmth and innocence, and I had never craved anyone the way I craved her.

I took in a deep breath, her cherry scent filling my lungs, before I asked the one question that threatened to bring me to my knees. "You're cleared now?"

Cool fingers caressed my jaw, "I've been in remission for five years."

The tension in my body eased slightly, "My god, angel. Is there a chance of it resurfacing again?"