“Tweet.” That was the only word that came out before I felt the tremor in my throat.
I moved in closer, my arms ready to hold and protect her. She leaned away and held up her hand, signaling me to stop.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, in a weak voice.
Please let me take care you.
“Why?”
“Because, if you touch me, I’ll fall apart. I’ve already pulled myself back together once today. I don’t think I could do it again.”
I sent a text to her parents and Emily to let them know I found her, she was safe, and I’d bring her home when she was ready. I sat next to her on the table, but kept a safe distance. I was going to give her whatever she needed. If she needed space, then she got space, even if it meant I had to wait the rest of the day and night before wrapping her in my arms. Tweet would talk when she was ready.
As the silence ticked by, my mind drifted back to earlier.
Mom and I were wading through our year of “firsts” without Dad. The first Fourth of July, my first college semester, the first autumn, and the first holiday season. The Kelly’s had been incredibly supportive over the past months, having us over for dinner several times a week, but ramped it up big time as the holidays approached. I had been at Brooke’s and told her that I needed to leave in order to help Mrs. Kelly put up some Christmas decorations as a thank you for all the dinners.
Walking through the back door of the Kellys’ home, I felt the tension immediately. My gaze landed first on Mr. Kelly, who was pacing back and forth in the family room. His expression was blank. I was confused as to why he was home this early from work. Then I saw my mom sitting on the sofa with her arm draped over Mrs. Kelly’s shoulders. Emily was on the other side of her mom, holding her hand. All three women were in varying stages of crying.
Mom’s head shot in my direction as I took a few steps forward.
“Noah, thank god you’re here,” Mom said, standing and walking toward me.
“What’s going on?”
She wrapped me in a hug. “I need to tell you something.”
In that moment, I decided to do a mental head count. Everyone who was important to me was in this room except for the most important one.
Pulling away from Mom, I asked, “Where’s Tweet?”
Mr. Kelly stopped pacing, Mrs. Kelly sobbed a little louder, and Emily looked up at me with tears running down her face.
My gaze shifted back to Mom. The look in her eyes was exactly the same as the day my dad passed away. I went numb.
“Sit down, son.”
My head was shaking even before she finished the three short words.
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“Noah…”
“Mom, just tell me where she is.” I begged, my voice was already hoarse from swallowing several huge lumps.
“We don’t know.” She paused for a moment, inhaled a deep breath, and then continued. “Amanda had a doctor’s appointment today.”
My brows pushed together as I narrowed my gaze at her, not understanding what she was getting at.
“Her leg has been hurting since you saw her that weekend at USC. Her mom insisted she go get it checked out.” Another pause, this one accompanied by a slight quiver of her bottom lip. “Amanda has cancer, sweetheart.”
A loud thud came from the other side of the room. Mr. Kelly was leaning against the wall, his hand fisted by his side, his shoulders shaking. Mrs. Kelly’s sobs echoed around the room while Emily’s whispers of comfort were like white noise.
“She doesn’t have cancer, Mom.”
“Noah, sit down and I’ll…”
I took a step back. “I’m not sitting down because Tweet doesn’t have cancer.”
The pressure was building in my chest, up my throat, and behind my eyes.
“She has bone cancer in her leg.”
“Tweet just sprained her ankle, Mom. She was running like a bat out of hell that night she fell.”
“She’s been in pain since then. You’ve seen her limping.”
“She limped because she sprained it. I carried her all the way to her room that night. I checked her out. I ran my hand over her ankle. I didn’t feel anything, not even a broken bone…”
A tear must have escaped because Mom’s hand came up to my face and wiped across my cheek.
“I held ice on it…” I trailed off.
“She was lucky you were there to help her, sweetheart.”
“The doctor must have made a mistake. You’ve seen how beautiful she is, Mom. She can’t be sick. Just because her ankle still hurts a little doesn’t mean she has cancer.”
“She’s been in a lot more pain than she let anyone know. She’s lost weight and has been tired.”
I chuckled. “It’s her first semester at college. Of course she’s tired and she might have lost a little weight, but she’s crazy busy just like me.”
“Noah, they saw the tumor on x-ray.” The deep scratchy voice of Mr. Kelly pierced my ears.
I backed up as Mom came toward me. Turning on my heels, I bolted out the door and headed to our spot.
“You talked to my mom?”
Clearing my throat, I answered, “Yeah. She didn’t know where you were and you wouldn’t answer your phone.”
I didn’t tell Tweet her mom was too upset to speak. She didn’t need that guilt right now.
I took a chance and scooted a little closer to her. “It’s cold out here, Tweet. Let’s go somewhere warm.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out what I did,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“What am I being punished for?” A tear trickle down the side of her face.
Hold it together Stewart. You have to be her strength.
“You’re not being punished.” My voice was confident and reassuring, because that’s what she needed from me. But in the first few hours or even days after you’re given devastating news, your mind seeks every possible answer as to why this is happening.
My fingers twitched. I was getting antsy. I needed to hold her. Finally she looked at me. We stared at each other for a moment before I finally gave in and threw my arms around her, pulling her onto my lap. Her face buried in the crook of my neck, her body convulsed with sobs, and we both shattered into a million pieces.
“You’re frozen baby. Let me take you home.”
Her lips grazed my neck as she shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Tell me what you need, Tweet.”
“For you to hold me.”
Pressing her securely against my chest, I whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”
I can’t lose you.
No matter how advanced treatments are or the thousands of people who survive, the word “cancer” translates into death when you first hear it applied to yourself or a loved one. A future without Tweet was inconceivable. I couldn’t let my mind go there. Instead, I focused on my girl, at our spot, letting me take care of her.
The two days following Tweet’s diagnosis were one colossal blur for me. An MRI had been scheduled, followed by an initial visit with her oncologist. Mrs. Kelly had contacted USC, told them the situation, and that Tweet wouldn’t be returning next semester. Since it was the holiday break, the campus was almost deserted, with the exception of a few administrative workers, so arrangements had to be made for us to go and pack up Tweet’s things the day before all the tests and doctor visits started.
When I told Brooke the news about Tweet she seemed genuinely sorry. When I told her I’d be spending as much time as possible with Tweet, she got pissed.
“It’s not like you can cure her, Noah,” she bit out.
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
We were standing on her front porch. I had stopped by to tell her my plans for the next several weeks.
“What I mean is, she has family to help her through this.” Her tone was a little less bitchy.
“I didn’t come here to discuss whether or not I was going to be by
her side. I will be there for her no matter what. I can’t do it with you laying a guilt trip on me or bitching at me every second.”
“Well, I’m not sure what you’re asking of me.”
“To understand that I won’t be around very much.”
“But it’s our first Christmas.” Her lip poked out in a pout.
“I know.”
“And if I don’t understand?”
“Then maybe we should take a break.”
Jesus, Brooke why are you with me?
She froze. “That’s drastic, don’t you think?”
“Tweet has cancer. That’s drastic.” I paused. “I gotta get going. We’re leaving early in the morning to go pack up her dorm room.”
Brooke looked away for a few seconds. When she turned to face me there was an icy determination in her eyes.
“Okay, do whatever you have to do. Can I ask for one thing?”
“Sure.”
“Spend Christmas day with me and my parents.”
I didn’t know why I was being such a douche. Maybe I was angry that the girl who loved me wasn’t the one I loved. Maybe I hated that the girl I loved was the one I couldn’t protect. Whatever it was, Brooke didn’t deserve to be treated like this. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Deal.” I kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “Thank you.”
“I love you, Noah,” she said.
“I’ll call you tomorrow once I’m back in town.”
Brooke stayed on her front porch, watching me as I backed out of the driveway. I thought about going back and just ending things with her. But our relationship wasn’t a priority to me, not even the breakup.
The next day, Tweet, her parents, and I headed up to USC. Tweet rode with me while her parents went up in their SUV. No one said a word as we boxed her things up. My stomach twisted each time I looked over at her. She was trying to hold it together for her parents’ sake, but I caught glimpses of the sadness and fear in her eyes. We were packing up her future and shoving it in a closet until some stranger gave her permission to dream again.
Before heading back home to Charleston, Tweet insisted on stopping to see Matt the asshole. She wanted to tell him face-to-face about her diagnosis. I knew she said he was her boyfriend, but my gut told me it wasn’t your typical relationship. Of course, who was I to talk? I had a hot girlfriend who said she loved me all the time, wanted to have sex, and I hadn’t done either of those things with her.
Tweet didn’t think it was a good idea for me to go upstairs to the apartment with her. I didn’t think it was a good idea for me not to go. Instead of arguing about it, I simply followed her, staying far enough back so she wouldn’t spot me. Slowly, she walked up the stairs, her body tense. She was nervous. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the news she was about to tell him or that he always made her feel uneasy. Either way, I wasn’t letting her out of my sight.
The door at the top of the stairs opened and a hand grabbed Tweet’s arm, pulling her inside. I jogged up the rest of the stairs, parking my ass directly across from the door Tweet had just entered. I hated that she was with this dick. My blood boiled as I thought about how he talked to her and treated her at the frat party. The door was closed, but the walls were thin. I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but I heard muffled voices go from soft, to sharp and loud.
It felt as if I’d been waiting for hours. I moved closer to the door. They must have also because their voices were getting louder. My chest tightened at the sound of his.
“Stick! Wait! You caught me off guard! I didn’t know what to say to you. I thought you were coming to break up with me because you were mad about Danielle.”
The asshole cheated on Tweet?
“I don’t care about you enough to be mad about Danielle. I have to go. Noah’s waiting downstairs to drive me home.”
That’s my girl.
“Are you fucking him?”
“What? Matt, let me go. You’re hurting me.”
That was it. I burst into the room and saw the asshole tightening his grip around Tweet’s upper arm. I rushed over, clamped my hand around the front of his neck, and pushed him against the far wall. When I looked back and saw Tweet’s upper arm starting to bruise, I squeezed tighter, causing the asshole to gasp for air.
Getting right up in his face, I snarled, “A tight grip doesn’t feel so good when you’re the grippee, does it, Smurffucker?”
I put more pressure on his neck, completely cutting off his airflow. Douchebag’s eyes popped from their sockets and he was turning a lovely shade of blue. “Tweet, go get in the truck.”
“Noah, he can’t breathe. Don’t kill him.”
“Go get in the goddamn truck. Now!” I yelled.
Tweet actually did what I asked her to do and left.
Loosening my grip slightly, I allowed Matt to take a breath, before slamming him back against the wall.
“If you ever touch her, talk to her, think about her, or say her name again, I will fuck you up. After that, my good friend, Travis, who’s the star hitter on the baseball team, will fuck you up. The entire team is made up of our friends, so they will definitely fuck you up. When they’re done, I’ll call some football players I know. Those no-neck, hard-headed bastards are crazy and always looking for an excuse to get out their aggression. They’ll fuck you up real good. Then Travis will give his frat brothers a call. Greek boys are competitive. Other frats will get in on this, and so on, and so on. Any way you slice it, you will be so fucked that prison will look like a vacation at Disney World.” I let go of his neck, stepped back, and landed a hard punch to his ribs.
Matt doubled over in pain, taking a small end table and lamp with him as he fell to the floor. I walked out the door, suddenly stopping at the sight of Tweet in the hallway.
I should have known she wouldn’t listen completely.
Grabbing her by the hand, we ran down the stairs, and back to my truck.
I flung open the passenger door, one hand gripping the frame while the other rested on my hip. My expression was tight as my eyes narrowed in her direction, clearly indicating how pissed off I was and for her just to get in the truck. The second her sweet little ass hit the seat, I slammed the door.
Adrenaline coursed through me as I paced back and forth in front of the truck, trying to cool down. Once I felt calm enough, I walked over to the driver’s side. My hand grabbed for the door handle at the same time the image of Tweet’s bruised arm flashed across my mind. With a will of its own, my hands balled into fists and repeatedly pounded the side of my truck. When the last drop of rage was drained from my body, I looked down at my clenched fingers, the knuckles bright red and raw from the blows. I jerked the driver’s door open and slid into the seat.
“Noah, are you okay?” she asked timidly.
“Has he hurt you before?” I forced the words out through gritted teeth.
Her silence gave me the answer.
Clearing her throat, Tweet admitted, “He’s never hit me.”
“Has he ever hurt you?” My restraint was hanging on by a thin thread.
“Just grabbing my arm a few times too tight, but he was drunk and…”
Oxygen pumped in and out of me in quick spurts. “Has he ever forced himself on you? Don’t lie to me.”
She hesitated for several seconds before answering. “Yes.”
I hammered relentlessly on the steering wheel but instead of giving me relief, it only pushed another wave of anger to the surface. Shoving my door open, I jumped out.
Once again, using the side of my truck as a punching bag, I pounded the metal and yelled, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
I got back in the truck, turned the ignition, and sped out of the parking lot. Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead as my fingers gripped the steering wheel.
“Noah…”
I raised my index finger, stopping her words, and said, “I can’t talk right now.”
We rode the entire hour and a half drive home in silence. I
hated Matt but was pissed off at Tweet. How could she let herself be treated like that by that asshole? I knew her self-esteem was low, but to let a slime like that guy treat you as if you were worthless… I didn’t understand. My anger was still simmering. I needed to hold it together before I said something hurtful that I’d regret.
When we arrived at Tweet’s house, it was late and I was too tired to unload her stuff, so I just walked her to the front door.
She fumbled to find her keys. “Thank you for everything and I’m sorry about…”
“What time is your appointment tomorrow?”
“The MRI is at 10 o’clock and I see the doctor at 3 o’clock.”
“I’ll be over at eight to unload your stuff. We’ll have plenty of time to get to your appointment.”
“You don’t have to go. Both my parents will be with me.”
“I know I don’t have to go. I want to go. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I kissed her on the forehead, letting my lips linger for several seconds as a calm washed over me. Without another word, I tore myself away and headed down the steps.
Mr. Kelly and I were mirror images as we sat across from each other in the waiting room. We nervously checked our watches, his right knee bouncing as rapidly as my left one, and we jumped whenever the door leading to the exam area opened. They allowed one person to accompany Tweet to the back during the MRI. It was a no brainer that Mrs. Kelly would be by her daughter’s side.
After the longest hour of my life, Tweet and her mom appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. While Mrs. Kelly chatted with the nurse, Tweet shuffled forward. As always, I noticed her beautiful eyes first. With each blink they grew glassier and filled with fear. Her body tensed—fingers curled around the strap of her purse, the pink shade of her bottom lip turning a milky white as she bit down on it. She had just gotten a glimpse into a world she didn’t want to be a part of and this was only the beginning. I wanted to trade places with her. It sounded like a cliché. Something people say to make themselves look good because they know it’s not possible. But I would give anything for this to be happening to me instead of her. Tweet’s gaze finally zeroed in on mine. It might have been wishful thinking, but I thought I saw relief flash briefly across her face.
Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) Page 23