Who are dying of brain cancer?
I pull out the ad and skim it.
Three countries.
Two months.
All expenses paid.
Just you and me.
About you: You’re fun-loving, adventurous and you have a wicked sense of humour. You’re spontaneous, open-minded and creative. You live for today because you never know what tomorrow holds.
I'm Erin and this isn't your usual Craigslist Ad. I’m twenty-four, and full disclosure, I’m dying. But I don’t want your pity. What I want is your help. I’m not looking for a nanny, or for someone to hold my hand. I want a friend, a confidante, a partner in crime.
I want you.
Holy shit, I can’t believe this.
It’s definitely her. It has to be. I never thought I’d see her again after she abandoned me at the Burger Barn. Now I get to potentially spend the next two months with her? I shake my head. Maybe Mum is right. Maybe this is what I need: two months away from everything that is messed up in my life. If I can’t get my life straight after this, then it’s never going to happen.
Chapter Five
Erin
“And that's why I think you'll agree that I'm a good fit for this trip.”
I glance at Calli, who shrugs as she stifles a laugh. I aim my glare at Mel, who stands near the window, doubled over in silent laughter. My eyes narrow as I watch her body convulse with each fit. I should’ve known she’d sneak cat suit guy into the mix of candidates.
“Thanks, Steve,” I say, keeping my tone friendly. “And thank you for coming down to meet with me. I'll let you know my decision, one way or the other, in the next few days.”
He raises his eyebrows, as if he’s shocked I’m not offering him the trip here and now. He nods enthusiastically before lunging forward and grabbing my hand so hard he nearly yanks me out of my seat.
“Yeah, thanks for coming, Steve. I was hoping to hear more about your wearable animal projects,” calls out Mel.
I turn around and shoot daggers at her, but if Steve notices the sarcasm in her voice, he doesn’t let on.
“I focus mainly on feral animals who pose a problem for farmers in the area,” he replies, matter-of-fact. “Feral cats, foxes. Mice. You name it. If it’s a nuisance, I’ll catch it and take a head-to-tail approach to maximizing what I can get from it. It’s considered art, and people actually pay a decent amount for it.”
“I think making clothing out of cat…remains is taking the head-to-tail concept a little far,” Mel laughs. “Do you make little outfits out of the mice skin too?”
“Mainly accessories,” he murmurs with a frown. “There was a time when people thought cooking head to tail was weird too.” He turns back to me, his creepy smile returning. “It’s refreshing to meet someone who isn’t freaked out by sustainable living.”
“I have no problem with using sustainable living,” Mel retorts. “In fact, I’ve been doing that in my restaurant for years. You can’t really compare that to making…whatever it is that you do.”
“Why not?” he argues. He stands up and faces Mel, who is standing with her arms crossed, glaring at him. “Assuming you’re a chef, I’m doing exactly what you do, only because it’s not the norm…” He pauses. “…according to you, it’s weird.” He glances at me. “If you’re as closed-minded as your friend here, then maybe I’m not a good fit for your trip.”
“Close minded?” squeaks Mel. “I—”
“Mel gets passionate about some topics,” I quickly explain, cutting her off. I stand up and take him by the arm, leading him over to the door before she can antagonize the guy any further. “As cute as it is watching you two together, I’m kind of on a time crunch here. Maybe you can continue your arguing on your own time?” I smile and close the door in his face, feeling only the slightest pang of guilt in doing so.
“Was that all so you could rip into the guy?” I accuse Mel once I’ve moved him on.
She gasps, her wide blue eyes proclaiming her innocence. “Me? You're blaming me for that?”
“How else did cat suit guy get onto my list?” I growl, narrowing my eyes.
Her eyes twinkle as she breaks into another fit of laughter. “Okay, fine. I had to see if he was serious. I mean, who does that? His whole concept is flawed and makes no sense.” She shakes her head and I can’t help but laugh. It’s clearly been bothering her.
“If you’re that keen to hook up with the guy, do it on your own time,” I grumble, playing up my annoyance. Because I am annoyed—at myself, for birthing this whole stupid idea.
The truth is, Steve is looking like a pretty good prospect at the moment. This whole trip feels more and more unreachable as the minutes go on. I'm not sure how much more I can sit through.
It’s a sunny Thursday afternoon and we are in downtown Melbourne, in a king suite at one of the classiest hotels in the country. After Calli freaked out at my original idea of just holding the interviews at my house, I gave in and agreed to book a hotel room. At such short notice, my choices were limited to a penthouse king suite and a pokey little room in a nearby two-star hostel.
I stand up, make my way over to the large king-sized bed, and collapse onto it. I feel instant relief as my head hits the soft mattress, and I’m pretty sure I made the right choice.
“Are you okay?” Calli’s voice sounds a million miles away.
“I'm fine,” I mumble. I'm just exhausted. And depressed. And anxious. Hell, the list goes on. I open my eyes as Mel kneels beside the bed and kisses me on the forehead.
“It'll be okay. We’ve still got three more, not to mention the other few hundred emails we have to go through.” She hesitates before adding, “I’m sorry for adding Steve, Ez. I just thought it might lighten you up…”
“It’s not that,” I sigh. I feel bad for taking my frustrations out on Mel and on poor Steve. “I’m just feeling less optimistic by the second. You know things aren’t good when he’s currently topping the list,” I say, forcing a smile. “Sorry, Mel. I’m sorry I’m such a downer. I’m just exhausted.” I don't want to admit it, but I'm tempted just to can the whole idea. My family would love that.
“You’re allowed to be,” Mel laughs. “Have a sleep. Or just lie here and listen. If we can't interview these people for you, then what's the point in us being here?”
I can't even be bothered arguing, so I nod my approval and arrange myself further under the covers. She kisses me again on the top of my head and wanders out of the room, sliding the door closed behind her. I can just make out her voice as she fills the other girls in.
My body thanks me as I allow it the one thing it’s been demanding all day: rest. I finger the soft silk sheets and wonder why it's taken me so damn long to stay in a hotel as nice as this. Everything, from the tiny bathroom amenities to the incredibly comfortable bed, screams luxury. I'm even rethinking my accommodation choices that are already booked for the trip. It's funny that even now I'm so concerned about money and how much I'm spending. Why? For? It’s not like I can take it with me. I should’ve gone all out. I chuckle to myself, imagining my parents’ reaction if I’d blown my entire fifty-grand savings on this trip. But you know why you didn’t go all out. Because that cash is reserved for something more important than fluffy pillows and oversized beds.
I drift in and out of sleep over the next few hours, not even bothering to listen to the interviews. I couldn’t keep myself awake even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. If there’s anyone even worth considering, I know they'll let me know.
My eyes crack open. As I glance around the neutral-toned room, it takes me a second to remember where I am. Definitely not in my own, brightly coloured pink and grey-toned bedroom. The last of the evening sun glares through the tiniest crack in the blinds. I throw the covers back and drag myself out of the bed. I glance at my phone to check the time. Nine o’clock. I’m not sure if I love or hate daylight savings, because sunlight at this time of night isn’t natural.
If it's even possible, I
feel worse than I did before. My head pounds, which tells me I need more sleep and probably more medication, but the painkillers nearly knock me out, and I don’t have time for that. I have things to do—things that won’t get done unless I drag my arse out of bed.
“Feel better?” Calli asks as I flop myself down on the couch.
I shrug.
She throws herself down next to me and wraps her arms around my neck. “Long day, huh?”
“That, and…” I press my cheek against hers. “I guess I had stupid expectations that I would find the perfect person today. I mean, the first two, Crystal and Dean, were both great people, and it’s incredible that they even want to help me out, but…”
“They’re not right?” supplies Calli.
“Exactly,” I sigh. “They’re not right. For some silly reason, I had it in my head that I’d know when I met the right person. God, it sounds like I’m preparing to get married. It’s just a trip, right?”
It’s not like anyone is dying. Oh, wait…
“All jokes aside, what if I'm just sabotaging myself? What if no one can be good enough?” I shrug, the anxiety in my chest crushing me. “You know me, Cal. I'm not a people person. This whole idea is—”
“Something you need to do,” Calli cuts in quietly.
My eyes widen at her change of heart. I can't help but smile at the irony. “Yesterday you were sure I was making a huge mistake.”
“And then I got my head out of my own arse and realised this is about you—not us.” She sighs and rubs her temples. “Ez, I barely slept last night thinking about this. You're right. I get it now. I understand why you need to do this, and as much as I’m going to miss you, I can't let you talk yourself out of this. If something I said stopped you going, and then you…” Her voice trails off. “I'd never forgive myself. Besides,” she says as she hands me her iPad, “this just came in.”
I scan the screen, my interest plummeting to zero when I realise it's another email. I can’t handle any more today. I go to hand it back to her but she stops me, forcing it back into my grasp.
“I know, the last thing you want to do is read another email, but trust me on this. I think this guy could be it.” Her eyes plead with me and I don’t have the heart to tell her no. While I might’ve given up hope, she obviously hasn’t.
“Fine,” I grumble. “I'll read it. Then you're buying the pizza. And ice cream. All the ice cream.”
“Deal.” She grins. She kisses me on the nose and gets to her feet. “I’ll go now and give you some privacy.”
“Since when do you ever give me privacy?” I laugh.
She tosses me a look over her shoulder as she grabs her purse. I wait until she’s out of the room before I begin to read. I’m convinced this one little email isn’t going to change anything, but I’m not even through the first line and I’m doubting that thought.
This isn’t exactly the kind of thing I thought I be applying for on a Thursday night, but what the hell. I don’t even know where to begin. What am I supposed to say to a dying woman who wants to take me on the trip of a lifetime?
I have no idea, so I’ll start with this. You probably don’t really know what you want. You’re scared, and you probably feel alone, and you don’t know what to do to fix that. I get it. I understand that more than you’ll ever know.
I’m not going to sit here and pretend to be your friend, or tell you all the reasons why I’m your perfect travel companion. The truth is, I’m probably not. But you can rely on me to tell you how it is and keep whatever dream you have for yourself alive. If you ever find yourself standing on the edge of a fast-flowing river, wondering if you should jump, you can trust me to be there to talk you out of it.
Whatever it is you’re looking for, I’ll help you find it.
I focus on that one line, reading it over and over. My heart pounds as I try to decrypt the message. It couldn’t be him, could it? No way. That would be too much of a coincidence. I shake it off and read through the email again.
Even without the possibility that it might be the same guy, he is miles ahead of everyone else. His email has what all the others were missing: that hard edge, that no-bullshit attitude. I don’t need things sugarcoated. I need someone to push me, because when it gets down to what this whole trip is really all about, I’m not sure I can go through with what I have planned. I need someone who can talk me into things as much as I need them to talk me out of them. The truth is, I’m terrified, and I can’t talk to anyone about it.
Ten minutes later, the door opens and Calli walks back in, carrying a box from next door. Her dark brown eyes search mine as she sets down our food.
“Well? What do you think?” she asks carefully. Her cheek twitches like it does when she’s nervous.
I shrug, pretending I’m not ready to jet set off around the world with this guy. “He sounds fine. But I don’t know anything about him other than this.” I gesture at the email on the screen. “He could be fifty, for all I know.”
“Would that matter?” Calli jokes.
I narrow my eyes at her and she rolls hers in response.
“Geez, he’s not fifty, Ez. Give me that.”
I hand her the iPad back, suspicious of how certain she sounds.
“You’ve spoken to him already, haven’t you?” I accuse her. How else would she know he’s not old and creepy? She’d need a name to be able to stalk him, so she must have contacted him already. I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.
“I—” she starts to protest and then sighs, nodding her head. “Fine. I wasn’t sure you’d agree to meet with him, so I thought I might need more ammunition.”
“Ammunition?” I snort. “We’re not going into battle, Cal. It’s not a war—”
She holds the iPad up to my face and I stop short, speechless. It is him, and he’s even sexier than I remember, with that mop of curly, dark hair that I just want to bury my face in. Calli smirks at my reaction, but I don’t care. I’m too focused on finding out as much as I can about this guy.
According to Facebook, his name is Cade Wilson. I study his profile picture. He has his arm draped casually around the neck of a large golden retriever, and he smiles a lopsided grin sexy enough to make my heart flutter—though that could be a side effect of three years of radiation treatment.
“Okay. You win. I’ll email him. Unless you’ve already given him the plane ticket?” I’m only half joking.
Slowly getting to my feet, I walk over to the couch, rubbing my head as I go. It’s been a long, stressful day. I’m exhausted, and the thought of seeing him again is more than a little terrifying. Cade. Even his name is perfect. I bite my lip and sigh.
“You okay?”
I jump, having forgotten for a second that Calli is in the room. I contemplate telling her, but that would open a whole new round of questions, like what was I doing down by the river in the first place.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to figure out how to start this email,” I mumble. “Want to help?” I ask, trying to distract myself from my thoughts.
“Um, hell yes,” she laughs as she heads over to me on the couch. “Remember when I helped you write that letter to Billy Slater in grade six?” She giggles.
“The one you accidentally left open on the computer in computer class?” I growl, glaring at her as she laughs hysterically. I was obsessed with surfing in my mid-teens, all because of Billy Slater.
“It was an accident,” she protests between giggles. “It’s not my fault someone printed it and handed it out to the entire class.”
I groan, blushing at the memory. I’d been so embarrassed that I’d skipped a week of school. People were still calling me Mrs Slater a year later.
“We have lots of good memories, don’t we?” She smiles fondly. “I love that we’ve always been so close. You’re my best friend, Panda.”
“Aww, come here.” I throw my arms around her. “The memories won’t go, Cal. They’ll always be there. Now help me out here, okay?”
Half hour passes and we are both finally happy with the words in front of us. I read through it one last time. With Calli looking over my shoulder, I couldn’t ask him straight out whether he knows it’s me, even though I’m dying to know.
Dear Cade,
Thanks for your email. You’re right – I am scared, but I do know what I want.
What I want is to live whatever life I have left, and see the things I dreamt about seeing as a child.
We have one thing in common – I’m all about keeping it real, so I don’t want things to be sugarcoated for me. I’m dying. I’m fully aware of that and I don’t need to be told that I look tired, or I need to rest. If your promise to keep it real holds up, then we should get along just fine and hopefully have some fun along the way.
How about we meet up on Saturday at 2pm, Gracie’s Diner, opposite the Millennial Hotel in the city?
Yours,
Erin
“You going to click Send, or just stare at it all night?” Calli asks. Her voice softens as she wraps her arm around me. “If he’s not the guy, that’s okay. We will find you the right person. I promise.”
I smile, a twinge of guilt hitting me for not being honest with her. She has no idea about that night, or that most of my hesitation right now is because I walked out on this guy after he saved my life.
With my finger hovering over the Send button, I glance at Calli again, a surge of emotion rushing through me. God, I love my sister. I can’t believe we are not going to share stories in years to come about annoying husbands and children that don’t sleep through the night.
Stop it, Ez. Keep focused.
She takes my hand and I have to fight with every ounce of my strength not to break down in tears. One look at her and I can tell she’s doing the same.
Don't Hold Back (Love Hurts Book 4) Page 5