Don't Hold Back (Love Hurts Book 4)

by Missy Johnson

  “Please tell me the sun is setting and not rising,” I mumble, rubbing my tired eyes. I feel like shit. All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Erin laughs and nudges me, her blue eyes dancing.

  “It’s rising, Cade,” she sings. How the fuck is she so happy? It’s like she downed a cupful of glitter. “We’ve got the whole day ahead of us before we even think about sleep.”

  I stifle a groan and fold my arms across my chest. I close my eyes, making do with the fifteen minutes it will take to reach the hotel. Not that she’ll let me sleep. She chatters next to me, like she’s taking every opportunity to keep me awake. And it’s working.

  “Nice,” I mutter as we pull up outside a flash-looking hotel that overlooks the centre of town. It’s a huge building with big windows and lush green lawns. We step off the bus and unload our luggage. A porter races over to us, insisting on collecting our bags. I grin and step back, letting him take them.

  “What were you expecting, a dorm in a hostel?” she jokes.

  “No, but I’m guessing you forked out a bit for this trip. Two rooms, it would add up pretty fast. It’s just nicer than I was expecting, that’s all. Is it rude of me to ask how much this trip is costing you?”

  “Ten grand,” she admits. “And that was with some great flight deals. But what am I going to do, take my savings with me?”

  “I guess not.”

  We book into our rooms—which are interconnecting and on the second floor—and agree to meet back in the lobby in half an hour. I’m tempted to try and squeeze in a power nap, but I know I barely have time for a shower. I normally wouldn’t blink at skipping breakfast for a bit of shut-eye, but I don’t want to disappoint Erin. I glance at my phone and see it’s nearly nine in the evening. It takes me a moment to figure out, but when I do, I smile. She was playing with me. Thank God it’s reasonable for me to go to sleep after grabbing some dinner.

  I jump in the shower, then try calling Bella. Not surprisingly, since she’s been avoiding my calls, there is no answer. As an afterthought, I check the time in Australia. Ten hours ahead, which places it Tuesday morning. My stomach twists into knots. What is she doing? Who is she with? I force myself not to think about it, because it’s going to drive me crazy.

  I spot Erin sitting over by reception. She looks gorgeous in a black, knee-length dress, her hair swept back in a bun. Even after God knows how many rounds of treatment, her curves are perfect. I saunter over to join her.

  “Morning, huh?” I say, narrowing my eyes.

  She laughs, her eyes glowing. “I bet it felt really fucking good when you realised, though, right?”

  She has me there. I’m counting down the minutes until I can pass out in my king-sized bed. “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  She makes a face. “Not really, but I should eat something. What do you fancy?”

  “We’re in Italy, so I think the only logical option is pizza,” I reply.

  “Suits me.” She grins.

  We make our way up and down the laneways of Rome, searching for a place to eat. It doesn’t take long until I have no idea where we are. Just as I’m about to pull out Google Maps, I spot a little pizza café.

  “Over there,” I say, leading her across the road.

  We sit down outside. It’s a cool night, and way too pretty not to make the most of being outside in the centre of Rome on a Sunday evening. People rush past us, on foot, in cars, and on bikes. It’s like everyone is in a hurry to be somewhere and we’re just sitting here taking it all in.

  “It’s so different, isn’t it?”

  I smile and glance at the row of lone diners, eating in the window of the café like they’re on display. “Totally.”

  “I love watching people, wondering what they’re thinking. What their story is.” She points to a man getting out of a taxi, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “Like that guy. I bet he’s seeing his mistress up there.” She nods to the hotel across from him. I’m about to argue when he glances around him before disappearing into the hotel.

  “How did you do that?” I chuckle.

  She shrugs. “I’m good at reading people. When I was little, all I wanted to do was be a psychologist.” She thinks for a second. “Well, once I got the whole fighter pilot idea out of my head.”

  “I can see you as a psychologist.” I grin. “And a fighter pilot, for that matter. What happened? Did you lose interest?”

  “I got sick,” she replies.

  “What is it that you have?” I ask. I’m hesitant to ask questions because I don’t know how she feels about talking about it; but the wannabe doctor in me needs to know.

  “I was diagnosed with glioblastoma. It’s wrapped around my brain stem, which means it’s fast growing,” she says quietly.

  I vaguely remember studying them in my neuroscience module last year. They’re very aggressive and hard to treat, with surgery often being the only option—when they are operable.

  “What stage?” I ask.

  She looks surprised. “Stage four, so not good.”

  “Who is your surgeon?” I ask.

  “Professor Daniel Martin.” She eyes me curiously. “What is this, Sale of the Century? Why all the interest?”

  “My dad is a surgeon. I thought maybe I’d heard of him.” I’m slightly guarded in my response, as I always am when I’m talking about my father—the same man who I haven’t spoken to in weeks. Hell, he didn’t even call me on my birthday last year, so it’s no wonder I approach any subject involving him with caution. “And aren’t you a little young for Sale of the Century? Were you even, like, born then?” I tease.

  “So, your dad. He’s a brain surgeon?” she asks with interest, ignoring my jibe.

  “Heart,” I reply. “One of the best, so he keeps telling me.”

  “You never wanted to follow in his footsteps?” she asks.

  I smile wryly. “I like to avoid his footsteps as much as possible. Seriously though, medicine is something I’d love to do, but it’s not in the cards at the moment.”

  Telling her about medical school means opening up to her on levels I’m not ready to, like how I ended up in this mess in the first place. I pick up the menu, hoping she takes the hint that the conversation is over. She does, and scans her own menu.

  “Do you have many symptoms?” I ask her. I’m conflicted in not wanting to talk about me, but wanting to know more about her illness.

  “I get loads of headaches. Sometimes I get blurry vision. I’ve had moments where I find myself unable to move, which is scary, but that’s never lasted more than a couple of hours.” She puts her menu down.

  I watch her, wishing I could take the pain away from her.

  “I can handle my symptoms pretty well at the moment, but it’s not going to always be that way.”

  “I think brain cancer is one of the worst, because it targets who you are as a person,” I say quietly.

  A sad smile crosses her lips. “I guess that’s the one good thing about mine. Where it is, my ability to breathe is likely to go first, so I’ll probably be dead before it has a chance to do that.”

  She’s exactly the kind of person I want to help. All those years of study, late nights, and pressure would’ve been worth it if it meant helping just one person. Before things got out of hand, I loved my course. I studied hard and did well, because in the back of my mind I knew one day I’d be living my dream. It was the one instance I where didn’t give a damn what my father thought. The only expectations I wanted to exceed were my own, and that was easy because it was my passion.

  I wasn’t doing it for my father. I was doing it for myself, and I refused to let him or anyone else ruin it for me. As it turned out, I didn’t need his help. I did a good enough job of ruining things myself.

  After dinner we walk back to the hotel, passing the colosseum on the way. It’s an amazing sight, but Erin barely seems to notice, too lost in her own thoughts to appreciate being in one of the most history-rich places in the world.

  “Y
ou might be the only person to ever stand in front of the colosseum and not care,” I chuckle.

  “How can you say that?” she gasps, whacking me across the arm. She looks around, her bright blue eyes taking everything in. “I’m in awe of how incredible this place is. It’s just a little bit overwhelming that I’m actually here, experiencing this.”

  “I was just teasing,” I say. I put my arm around her shoulder.

  She looks up at me, surprised, but goes with it.

  “Relax and you’ll enjoy it a whole lot more.”

  “That’s what he said,” she jokes, giggling as I laugh. “Where to now?”

  “What else do you want to see?” I ask. “Why Rome?”

  “Because it’s the heart of Italy. It’s so busy and alive.” Her face lights up as she speaks. “I just wanted to surround myself in that passion and history.”

  “Then let’s do that.” I grin.

  She smiles a curious smile as I take her hand.

  “Where are you taking me?” she laughs. “I thought you couldn’t wait to go to sleep.”

  “Nah, I’m having too much fun,” I say. It’s the truth. I’d forgotten how tired I was until she mentioned it. I’m enjoying her company too much to end the night just yet.

  We approach the Trevi Fountain, and even in the distance it commands our attention. The huge, sprawling palace behind it is almost glowing in the moonlight. The stunning combination of art and architecture is breathtaking.

  “Oh, wow,” Erin breathes. Her pace increases to match her excitement, until she’s succeeded in dragging me to the front of the fountain. I have to admit, it’s pretty impressive. I remember being here when I was seven, with my mum and Noah, and being mesmerised.

  “Look how smooth the stone is,” she murmurs, “and the way the coins glisten against the water.” She turns to me. “Did you know it took twenty years to make? That kind of passion and commitment is incredible, huh?” She fishes around in her pocket and pulls out a coin. “Can’t visit the fountain and not throw a coin in.” She hands me her phone. “Take a picture.”

  I grin as she positions herself at the optimum angle to allow for the best throw. She’s concentrating so hard that it’s funny.

  “What?” she asks when she notices me looking at her.

  “Nothing,” I chuckle. “It has to go over your shoulder to work.” I step closer to her and put my hands on her waist, manoeuvring her slightly to her left. “There,” I murmur.

  She blushes, then smiles.

  I step back and snap a photo of her smiling face. “Don’t forget to make a wish.”

  “They say if you throw it correctly, you’ll return to Rome.”

  “Then you’d better get it right,” I say.

  She closes her eyes and throws the coin over her shoulder, listening for the sound of it hitting the water. She turns around.

  “There,” she says, smiling. “Now we wait and see if it happens, I guess.”

  We walk in silence back to the hotel, but it’s not awkward in the least. It’s comfortable, like we’ve known each other forever.

  I pull out my phone intermittently to check for messages from Bella. Talking to Erin about her disease has really gotten to me. I feel like my life doesn’t have the right to be such a mess, and I should be doing more to fix things, especially with Bella. But each time I see my blank screen, I get annoyed. She can’t ignore me forever.

  Erin glances at me, her expression concerned. “Are you okay? You seem troubled.”

  I force a smile as we reach the hotel. “I just have a call to make. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, okay?”

  Surprise flashes in her eyes, but she nods. “Okay,” she says, her tone uncertain. “I’ll be in my room if you want to talk.”

  I wait until she’s disappeared from sight before I try Bella again. I’m not shocked when she doesn’t answer, but I leave a message, urging her to call me back. Not that I expect her to. Maybe I am pushing her too much, but I just want her to talk to me.

  I head back to my room, ignoring the urge I have to stop in and see Erin. I really enjoy talking to her and she’s a great distraction, but at the same time, things are too complicated at the moment. I appreciate her willingness to listen to my problems, but how do I confide in her when I don’t understand this myself?

  Sighing, I fall on my bed, still dressed, shoes and all. I’m so exhausted. Maybe all I need is a good night’s sleep.

  I only hope that I wake up in a better mood than I’m going to sleep in.

  Chapter Eleven

  Erin

  “You’re quiet,” I comment, taking a sip of my orange juice.

  We’re sitting in the hotel restaurant enjoying our included buffet breakfast. It feels wasted on us, since all I can stomach is the juice and Cade is on his third cup of coffee. His mood has been sour since he joined me half an hour ago, and I have no idea why.

  “Yeah, I didn’t sleep too well.” His tone is curt, like he doesn’t want to elaborate.

  Another day, another mood. He’s worse than a chick. I let it go, instead reading through my guidebook as I force myself to eat a Danish. My stomach turns as nausea eats away at me, but I know I’ll feel a thousand times worse if I take my pain meds on an empty stomach.

  It’s Thursday, and our last day in Rome after being here for four days, which have included a day trip to Verona—much to Cade’s disgust—so I could see where Romeo and Juliet died.

  “You know it isn’t real,” he balks, rolling his eyes at my excitement.

  There are stands everywhere, selling souvenirs of the tragic couple. I pick out a shirt and hand over my twenty dollars.

  “Why do women love this shit?” he groans, glancing around like he’s embarrassed to be seen with me. “They’re making an absolute fortune off lonely, desperate women who cried their hearts out over some stupid movie that really wasn’t that good in the first place.”

  “You’re an idiot,” I laugh. “You’re insulting not only me, but one of the greatest poets of all time?”

  “Yeah?” Cade mutters, rolling his eyes as I bring up the camera on my phone. “Come back and find me when the guy saves space.”

  I want to make the most of my last day here, so I drag Cade around town, crossing things off my list along the way. The Vatican, the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps, and the Piazza Navona are just a few. I’ve seen so much history these past few days, I feel like I’m going to start regurgitating random facts.

  “How about we see the real sights now?” Cade says as we leave the steps.

  “Like?” I prompt him. I raise my eyebrows, a smile on my face. This should be good. At least he seems to be in a better mood.

  “There’s a vegan cat café two streets away,” he says with a grin.

  “Vegan cats? Is that even a thing?” I ask, scrunching up my nose. “And how do you even know that?”

  “The cats aren’t vegan. The food they serve is,” he explains patiently, as if he’s talking to a five-year-old. “Apparently it’s pretty popular.”

  “Um, I think I’ll pass. Allergies,” I hastily explain. Total lie. I just hate cats. “Any other fun suggestions?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

  “Sure—we can visit the cats where Julius Caesar was murdered,” he suggests. I narrow my eyes. I’m sure he’s trolling me, but what’s with the cats all of a sudden?

  “Did you miss the part where I hate cats?” I growl, laughing.

  “I thought it was allergies,” he teases.

  Shit. “You’d hate something you were allergic to as well, right?” I retort, blushing about being caught out in a lie.

  “I might also lie about being allergic to get my way,” he teases, nudging me in the side.

  I laugh and nudge him back.

  “You can be very violent, Miss Camden. Fine: so no cats. Got it. What now, then?”

  “Sleep.” I grin. As much as I don’t want to call it a day, I know I need to be smart and not burn myself out. I ask him to take me back to the hotel.
We have an early train ride tomorrow, and I’m exhausted from all the walking we did today. Maybe walking the Spanish Steps wasn’t my greatest idea, but it was worth it.

  I forgo dinner in favour of just curling up in bed. I ache everywhere, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. Picking up my phone, I feel a pang of guilt. There is a text from Calli.

  Calli: I miss my little sister.

  It was only sent minutes ago, so I know she’s still awake. I press Call, feeling strangely nervous as I wait for her to answer. Every day I think about my family, but make excuses about calling.

  “Hey, Panda. I thought you’d forgotten us,” she says when she answers.

  “As if I could,” I scoff. The twinge of guilt gets stronger. “I’m just so busy and it’s never the right time…”

  “I’d rather you call at three in the morning than not at all,” she says. “Having fun?”

  “I’m having a blast.” I grin.

  “And Cade? Happy with that choice?” she teases.

  “Incredibly happy,” I agree. “This is costing me a fortune, Cal. I’ll call you in a few days. Promise.”

  “Okay, Panda. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” I mumble.

  I put the phone on charge and settle under the covers, wiping away tears. I do wish she was here with me. I miss her more than I thought I would, and that was a lot. She couldn’t come. Not if you still want that door slightly open. Rolling over, I sigh. What hurts the most is not knowing if I’ll be seeing her again.

  The next morning, I lug my packed bags down to the lobby to meet Cade. He yells at me for not letting him collect them from my room, but I shrug him off. I’m feeling good today—good enough to carry my own luggage.

  We make our way down the street towards the station, and wait for our nine a.m. train to Venice. The first week has gone so fast that it reminds me how precious time is. In the blink of an eye, a week has gone. I feel like the end is approaching way too fast, and at the same time I’m excited for the next leg of our trip. The reality is, six months is not long when it’s all you have. Maybe if I wasn’t enjoying myself as much, time would slow down.