Don't Hold Back (Love Hurts Book 4)

by Missy Johnson

  “Fifteen. Or sixteen, if you count the cat guy.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I draw the line at travelling with Cruella De Vil.”

  I sit back, exhausted. The emails are still coming in, but I have to end this somewhere. I stare at the list of names in front of me. It feels surreal that one of them will be the main person in my life for the next two months. Possibly the rest of my life. I shiver, the thought unsettling.

  I listen to Mel and Nora’s forced giggles as I watch Calli out of the corner of my eye. She’s not coping, and though I don’t blame her, I don’t know what to do. Calli knows Mel well enough to know that she’s putting on an act for me. That’s what gets to me the most. Nobody really knows how to act around me, and I can’t deal with that at the moment. If I stop and think about everyone else’s feelings, then my life will be over before I even have time to process it. I just wish I could make my family understand that I need to do something, because dying without experiencing anything is terrifying.

  Mel wraps her arms around me, a sad smile on her lips. Her perfectly styled blond curls hang loosely around her shoulders, her dark eyes watering as she holds my gaze.

  “Anything at all—if you need anything, you let me know. Okay?”

  My stomach tightens, and I do what I do best when I start to feel overwhelmed: I try to laugh it off.

  “No, I’m serious, Ez. You need me to fly over to Colombia, or wherever the hell it is you’re going because you need a shoulder to cry on? I’ll do it. I’ll be there in a second for you.”

  “Thanks, Mel. That means a lot,” I reply. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, and here I am fighting back tears.

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m not driving myself crazy about all this, because I am.” She nods at Nora. “I just thought you needed a distraction. If I went too far, I’m sorry.” She turns to face Calli. “The last thing I wanted was for anyone to feel like I think this is all a big joke.”

  “I should be the one apologizing, Mel,” Calli breaks in. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m not coping too well with anything lately.” She glances at me and I smile sadly. “You’d think I was the one who was dying, huh?” she jokes, her voice weak. She pulls away and heads back into the living room.

  I hesitate, wanting to follow after her.

  “Go,” Mel urges. “We can see ourselves out.”

  “Thanks for coming over,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You guys mean the world to me.”

  “Call me if you need me,” Mel says, kissing my cheek.

  My hands deep in the comfort of my pockets, I pad softly into the living room where my sister sits, sobbing softly. I swallow, a hard lump forming in my throat. I hate seeing her like this, but at the same time it’s just reinforcing why I need to get away from this place.

  “I’m sorry,” Calli says. She sinks onto the couch, her voice defeated. “I’m trying, Ez, I really am.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “Who am I going to call to whinge about Tim? My kids will never get to meet their aunt. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

  “You’ve got to let this go,” I say to her. “Trust me, I know it sucks. I’m living it, remember?” My feeble attempt to lighten the mood with a joke only seems to make things worse.

  “I’m so selfish,” she curses herself. “Kids are just another thing you’re never going to get to experience.”

  I sit back in my seat. Huh. Strangely enough, that hasn’t even occurred to me. I haven’t even thought about the children I’ll never have.

  “There are so many things I can’t control.” I sit forward, determined to try and make her see this from my point of view. “When the pain is going to be so bad that I can’t get myself out of bed. The milestones I’m not going to get to experience, like getting married and having kids. That’s all out of my reach. But the next few months? They’re mine, Cal. They’re mine to live the fuck out of and leave something—” My voice breaks, but I force myself to finish. “—leave some part of me behind.”

  “I get it,” she finally says. “I do. But accepting that means that I’ve accepted losing you, and I haven’t. I can’t. Not yet.” She presses her lips together. “But I’m always going to be there for you, so you do what you need to do.”

  I wrap my arms around her shoulders and smile. “Even if that means shacking up with a guy who’s making me a cat suit?”

  Calli throws her head back and laughs. She wipes her eyes and shakes her head. “Seriously, that’s not funny, Ez.”

  Calli hangs around for a couple more hours before she finally leaves. As I shut the door behind her, I breathe out. I love my sister, but I also love my own space. Whenever I see her these days, it’s like she can’t bring herself to leave me. I don’t think it’s a conscious thing, but it’s like she’s scared to leave me in case it’s the last time she sees me.

  My whole body aches as I make my way into the bathroom. I’m dying for a bath. I make a face and run the water. There I go again. It’s amazing just how much that word pops up in my everyday vocabulary.

  Nothing feels better than lowering my body into the hot water. I sigh, the soft scent of vanilla wafting up from the bubbles. I immerse myself in the water, trying to process what was a hell of a day. I get tired so quickly now. It’s barely six and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. I catch myself slipping under the bubbles more than once, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to go just like that. No pain. Nothing. Would losing me like that be harder or easier on my family? I think back to a few weeks ago and that morning by the river. What if he hadn’t turned up when he did? But then again, he was half the reason I fell in the river in the first place. Would I have jumped if he hadn’t scared me? I shiver. Probably not.

  I drag myself out from the tub before I can give this any more thought. My head pounds—the way it usually does as the day wears on. I swallow a handful of painkillers to numb the pain, but not enough to do any serious damage. Not that it really matters. It’s not like I’m going to need my liver in a few months anyway.

  I pour myself into bed and snuggle beneath the warmth of my blankets. Instantly, I feel a little bit better. I could spend days in my bed, and it has nothing to do with being depressed or feeling sorry for myself. Curled up against my pillow is one of the most tranquil places I can think of. Not long after I was diagnosed, I tried some relaxation therapy to help control the pain. My therapist asked me to think of my happy place. Most people would picture a beach, or a rainforest filled with whispering trees, but not me. I imagined being back at home on a rainy day, curled up under the covers with a book I could lose myself in.

  I’m a creature of habit. I have the things that make me warm and fuzzy and I’m okay with that. Or at least I have been up until now. Finding someone on the internet and taking them around the world with me is just not something I would do. I can’t blame my family for being concerned. I’m not the girl who tries new things. So why am I doing this? Because I feel like I’ve wasted my life? If I’ve been happy, how is that a waste? What if I choose to do this and I’m wrong? What if realise that all I want is to be back at home, curled up in my bed with a good book? I close my eyes and try to ignore the pounding in my heart, along with the question that I’m most afraid to answer.

  What if it’s too late by the time I realise it?

  Chapter Four

  Cade

  “Cade?”

  Shit. I grab the towel hanging on the railing and wrap it around my waist, and yank open the bathroom door. What the fuck is Mum doing here, especially at this time on a Tuesday? Or is it Wednesday? She calls out again. This time her voice is closer, and I realise that she’s let herself inside. Fuck.

  Monday’s drinks turned into a two-night binge that ended with me waking up in Chris’s spare room next to some chick I don’t even remember banging. The smile on her face and the way she hung around most of the morning told me I must’ve done something right. Or wrong, depending on the way you look at it. T
urned out it was his cousin. I didn’t even know he had any cousins. Funny how you can think you know someone so well.

  I round the corner into the living room, my fists tightening beside me. Mum stands there surveying what has been my only focus for the last six hours. The place is a fucking mess, with empty beer cans piled up on the coffee table and food stains on the floor, along with takeout containers that have probably been there for over a week. But she’s not looking at any of that. All she sees is the racing on the television screen in front of her and the notebook lying on the couch, scribbled with sure bets that I was only able to fund thanks to Chris. He’s one of those guys that will always help you out of trouble, so he had no issues lending me a few hundred when I told him I needed it to fix my car.

  Her eyes stray from the TV and lock onto mine. The disappointment I see in them is crushing. I look away. She should be used to it by now, because all I seem to do is let her down.

  “A little light afternoon viewing?” she asks, her voice soft.

  I keep silent, because what can I say?

  “You promised, Cade. No more gambling. Our agreement was I wouldn’t tell your dad if you stopped.”

  “And I did,” I finally say. I sit down, defeated. How do I explain to her that my life has gone to shit? I went three weeks without touching a bet, and it felt like a fucking lifetime. I put everything I had into stopping, and things continued to fall apart.

  Mum finding out about my problem was the worst moment of my life. I’m so careful with keeping everything hidden; or I thought I was.

  The thing about gambling is you convince yourself that you have it under control, when in reality it never is. When I was fifteen, I had been added to my mother's credit card to use only in emergencies. And I never touched the thing. I actually forgot about it until one night a few months ago, when I found it while I was tearing my room apart looking for anything I could sell to make some quick cash. I was desperate. When I saw that little black card sitting in the bottom of my drawer, my heart pounded. I still remember the feeling as I ran my fingers over the raised numbers. Just a few hundred, I told myself. I will pay it back. They won't even know.

  It took ten days for me to max out my mother's card and its ten-K limit.

  Ten days.

  She approached me with her bill a few weeks later, sure it was some kind of misunderstanding. She’d raised me better than to steal from her, right? Apparently wrong. For me to do that to her, the one person who had always been on my side, showed me what kind of person I’d become.

  “I’m not here to argue with you, Cade.” My mother sits carefully on the edge of the couch, as if she’s afraid of catching something. “I’m worried about you. You tell me one thing, but alarm bells are ringing in my head. I don’t know what to think anymore. I want more than anything to believe that you’re okay, but…” She looks around the room again, shaking her head helplessly.

  I want to reassure her that I’m okay, but I can’t force the words out. She has no reason to believe anything I say, and even less reason to trust me. I run my hand through my hair, wishing I could erase the last year from my life.

  “Cade?” Mum prompts. “Tell me I’m wrong—that you’re okay.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” I mumble. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry I’ve fucked everything up. I’m sorry I’ve put you in this position. I’m sorry my life has turned out to be such a disappointment to you.” Anger pulsates through me, but it has nothing to do with her. It’s all me. I did this. I fucked everything up. “You want the icing on the cake? I was kicked out of my course yesterday. Pretty much expelled.”

  Her mouth falls open. “Oh Cade…”

  “What? What do you want me to say?” I snap, my voice harsh. “Nothing you’re thinking is worse than what I already think about myself, Mum.” I grab my yesterday’s jeans and shuffle into them, discarding my towel on the couch. Stalking past her, I stop at the laundry and retrieve a shirt from the dryer, tugging it over my head. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I gotta go.”

  “Go where?” Mum asks, her voice rising.

  “Don’t worry, I got no money left to do anything stupid,” I mutter. I rub the back of my neck and sigh. “Believe it or not, I want to fix this mess, Mum. I’m just fucked if I know how.” I glance at her, my jaw twitching. “Are you going to tell Dad? About my course?”

  “No,” Mum says after a while. “Only because I think you should. I’m serious,” she adds after I snort. “He’s going to expect you to return next semester’s tuition fees, which I think is a good idea, all things considered.”

  “Too late,” I mumble.

  “Oh Cade.” Watching her face crumple in pain is almost too much.

  I look away, wishing I wasn’t such a fucking mess.

  “You didn’t.”

  “Yep. I did. Just add it to the list of things I’ve done to ruin your life.” I grab my jacket and my keys and head for the door.

  “Cade, wait.”

  I stop, wondering what else she’s going to say to lay on the guilt. I turn around, my expression hard, even though inside I’m falling apart. The way she’s looking at me...I don’t know if I can ever get back the trust that I’ve lost from her.

  “I came here wanting your help, but it seems this might be more a case of me helping you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, my voice gruff. I’m not in the mood for mind games.

  “A friend of mine needs help, and I told her you might be interested. She’s willing to pay you twenty thousand, and I will match it. Forty thousand dollars can get your life back on track.”

  Except it won’t get me back into school, or convince Bella that I’m the guy for her. It won’t undo the damage caused by years of disappointing a father who hates me. It won’t mend my broken relationship with my brother. Yeah, money will fix everything.

  All that cash is going to do is clean the slate, ready for me to dig myself into yet another hole. Only if I let myself. Whether I take the chance to fix my life or repeat what got me into this mess in the first place is up to me.

  “This has everything you need to know. Read it, let me know what you think.” She pushes an envelope into my hands and moves past me to the door. She turns back, her usually bright green eyes full of concern. “Give me a reason to trust you again, Cade. This will not only help you, it will help someone who is going through something I couldn’t even imagine.”

  “I’ll read it and let you know tonight,” I promise.

  She’s done so much for me, I at least owe her that.

  I sit at the end back at the bar, hunched over a table and swirling the clear liquid around in my glass. It's just water. I can’t stomach anything heavier at the moment. As much as I want to drown everything out, what I want more is to fix this. I know I need help, but I can't do this alone. I'm not even sure I can do it all, but I want to try.

  I finger the unopened envelope sitting on the table. I have no idea what is inside, but my mind is already made up. I’m going to do it, whatever it is. I want my mother to look at me without crushing disappointment in her eyes. I want to prove to my father and to myself that I can be someone, that I'm not the failure he thinks I am. My jaw tenses as I picture my father in front of me, his eyes mocking me, as if he’s wondering what my next stupid mistake will be.

  The funny thing is, he doesn't even know about the gambling and drinking and all the rest, yet I'm still the most disappointing thing in his life. How does that even work? Because all his attention and focus is on Noah. I’m left in the backdrop, barely given a second thought because I’m expected to fail. I’m not the perfect son Noah is. I’ll never be what my brother is to him, because I can’t change genetics. I’m the product of betrayal, a constant reminder to my father that my mother isn’t perfect. I’m not supposed to know that, but I know a lot of things I shouldn’t know.

  I set my glass down and rip into the envelope, tearing along the edge with my thumb. I pull out a letter, and what looks like a
screenshot printout of an ad. I pick up the letter and read it.

  Dear Cade,

  I thought it would be easiest to put everything down in writing so it gives you a chance to think about this without any pressure.

  My daughter is dying. She has a rare form of brain cancer that is wrapped around brain tissue, making it inoperable. We’ve accepted that we are going to lose her, as much as we can, but what we cannot accept is her not letting us be there for her when she is going to need us most.

  Our daughter has booked a holiday overseas, a two-month trip around the world. She has placed an ad on Craigslist, of all places, looking for a companion. You can imagine how we feel about this, but talking her out of it is useless.

  Our proposal to you is this:

  We want you to be the person who accompanies her, but she can’t know we have asked you to do this. You need to convince her that you are the right applicant for her. We will feel much better about the situation knowing that she has someone with medical knowledge with her at all times, and someone who we can trust has her best interests at heart.

  In return, we will not only cover any extra expenses of the trip, but also give you twenty thousand dollars.

  Unfortunately, you don’t have long to consider the offer, as she is interviewing potential travel companions this week. I’ve enclosed the ad, which also has her email address. I’ve informed her sister of the situation, because the volume of responses she has received is very high. Calli will make sure Erin reads your email if you decide to respond.

  Warmest regards,

  Andrew and Rose Camden

  Holy shit. Now I really do need a drink. I sit back, my mind clicking into overdrive. Erin. It couldn’t be her, could it? No way. That would be too much of a coincidence. It’s not like Erin isn’t a common name. There must be thousands of Erins in the state alone, around her age.