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8/20/2019 Love Always, Kate (Love Always - D.Nichole King.pdf
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Love Always, Kate
d. Nichole King
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Love Always, Kate
Copyright © 2014 by d. Nichole King. Allights reserved.
First Print Edition: April 2014
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
SBN-13: 978-1497385436
SBN-10: 1497385431
http://www.limitlesspublishing.com/
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o part of this book may be reproduced
scanned, or distributed in any printed o
electronic form without permissionPlease do not participate in or encourag
piracy of copyrighted materials i
violation of the author’s rights. Than
ou for respecting the hard work of thi
author.
This is a work of fiction. Namescharacters, places, and incidents eithe
are the product of the author’
magination or are used fictitiously, an
any resemblance to locales, eventsbusiness establishments, or actua
persons—living or dead—is entirel
coincidental.
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Dedication
For all those who’ve been touched by
cancer.
Your strength is an inspiration.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22Chapter 23
Chapter 24
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Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
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Chapter 1
The expression on Dr. Lowell’s fac
said it all.I sat back against the chair in hi
office, nervously playing with a lock o
my thick auburn hair. Stretching it unde
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my nose, I inhaled the coconut scent o
my favorite shampoo. Already, I misse
he sweet aroma.
“Your lab work came back, Kate.Dr. Jackson Lowell’s eyes fixed on m
hen shifted to my parents. He paused
“The white blood cell count is twenty
wo thousand.”
I didn’t have to glance over to know
what my parents were doing. M
mother’s eyes squeezed shut, and mfather’s hand rubbed her back. The sof
breaths escaping my mother filled m
ears.
I stared blankly at my feet. Whaseemed like hours passed before anyon
spoke.
“What options do we have this time?
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Dad asked, his voice cracking.
I lifted my eyes to Dr. Lowell. Hi
gaze drifted to his desk. He removed hi
glasses and laid them on top of my file.“Another round of chemotherapy.
Turning his attention to me, he continued
“And we’ll need to put you back on th
bone marrow transplant list.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say
The lump in my throat made it hard t
breathe. I’d heard this spiel twicbefore, but it didn’t get any easier
Sitting up higher in my seat, I put on m
brave face.
“When do I start treatment?” I askeducking my hair behind my ears. M
focus stayed on Dr. Lowell. If I so muc
as glanced over at my parents, I’d brea
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down. And I couldn’t do that.
“Monday.”
~*~
Leukemia had forced its way back i
my life, and just like the last times, needed my coping mechanism from th
store—my new best friend since I didn
actually have one. As soon as I left th
hospital, I drove into the parking lot oTarget.
I walked to the stationery aisle an
saw it immediately. It didn’t have mname printed on it like my first one, an
t didn’t have the intricate cover of m
second. This one was perfect: blac
with a red rose on the front. Black fo
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he cancer and the red rose for m
defeating it.
When I got home, I collapsed on m
bed and flipped it open.
October 29
Dear Diary,
One year. That’s it. One measly yea
of remission and now it’s back. I don
know if my body can handle anothe
round of chemo. Not only that, but canmentally withstand the emotiona
urmoil that goes with it … again?
It’s not just about me, though. Seve
ears of on-again, off-again chemreatments has taken its toll on my
arents, too. They’ve sacrificed s
much for me; how can I ask for more?
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know it’s stupid, but I wonder wha
heir life would have been like if they’
had a whole daughter instead of
broken one. They love me. I hate tdisappoint them after all they’ve done.
My red hair has finally grown bac
and hangs past my shoulders. I don
want to wake up every morning t
chunks of it on my pillow. Already
miss the feeling of my fingers runnin
hrough the tresses. What good is cleahair when it’s clogging the drain in th
shower? Soon it will be gone. Every
ast. Strand.
I’m seventeen; I’ve surviveeukemia since I was eleven. But I don
know long I can keep fighting. I’m
rying to be brave. I don’t want to die
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’ve never even been kissed.
I closed my eyes and fought th
oncoming tears. Feeling sorry for myselwasn’t an option. Yeah, I had cancer—
nothing I could do about it beside
accept the fact. But that nagging voice i
he back of my head kept pushing.
I felt fine. Maybe there was a mix-up
at the lab.
Could the numbers be wrong?Why me? Why again?
How could I feel so good, but hav
cancer ravaging my body?
Sighing, I rolled onto my back anstared at the ceiling. Yep, still white.
swiped the tears from my cheeks. I’d jus
started to have a life. And now, I wa
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back to being an outcast. Life sucked.
Instead of wallowing, I attempte
some meaningless tasks to keep my min
occupied. I got up and fluffed mpillows on the window seat. When
finished with that, I smoothed out m
sheer curtains and picked some fuzz of
he floor in the corner. It didn’t help.
During dinner, I noticed my mom’
puffy eyes. I hated the stress my diseas
caused. She tried so hard to be strong—o be positive. But those eyes gave he
away. Fighting was my job, survivin
was hers. Dad didn’t throw any chairs,
good sign that he was taking this lapsbetter than the last one. He sat quiet an
reserved.
No one ate much. Our appetites, lik
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our vacation fund, had disappeared wit
he test results.
The weekend moved slower than
funeral caravan—sorry, bad jokeSlipped into a daze, we all seemed to b
dealing with the news by avoiding it
which was fine by me. Dad went t
work in downtown Des Moines. Mo
read her Better Homes and Garden
agazine and worked outside in th
flowerbeds. I penned a few pages in mdiary before deciding to veg-out in th
kitchen. I’d be puking my guts out soo
enough, so I figured I might as wel
enjoy something sweet and totallunhealthy. I mixed up a batch of cooki
dough and ate it by myself.
Making friends required being aroun
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eople —not hospitals. I’d missed s
much school because of treatments that
enrolled in summer school to try an
keep up. It worked, but only to get mnto tenth grade—one year behind. Prett
much all the kids at school knew I ha
eukemia. They felt sorry for me, so the
didn’t say anything. I don’t think the
knew what to say. I was “the girl wit
cancer who used to be bald.”
understood.“Hi, Kate,” Leslie said as I walke
nto the tiny hospital room Monda
afternoon. I was on a first-name basi
with all the nurses and staff members ohe floor. “I really hoped I’d never se
ou in here again.”
“Me, too.” I sat down on the reclinin
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bed.
My mother had allowed me to com
by myself. Having her there wouldn
make things any easier, and I was olenough now to go to my ow
appointments. No need for her to take th
hours out of her week.
I squeezed my eyes closed as Lesli
rubbed alcohol on my hand befor
nserting the IV. Watching made m
stomach crawl. Feeling the needle go ifelt bad enough, seeing it just reminde
me how real it all was. The central line
my first of many visual reminders
would soon be attached to my chest.“All done,” Leslie announced. “Dr
Lowell will be here in a few minutes
’m sure you don’t, but I have to ask—d
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ou have any questions?”
I had no questions. In fact, I coul
probably write a textbook of procedure
by now.I shook my head.
Leslie sat down on the bed next to m
and ran her fingers through my hair
“Your hair is beautiful, Katie. I reall
ike this cut on you.”
My hair fell in layers, framing m
full, round face. “Thank you.” Last timewhen my hair started falling out, Lesli
sat with me, holding my hand as I cried
knew it was just hair, but it was my
hair. Soon, I’d look like a little bald olman. Wigs itched. I had one that matche
my own hair color, but I hated wearin
t. People stared when I went out i
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public because they felt sorry for me
And that was annoying. It wasn’t th
stares or the whispers, or even th
silence. I didn’t want people to feesorry for me. I was a warrior. I’d beate
cancer twice, and I could do it again—a
east, that’s what I told myself.
Dr. Lowell walked in and gave us
slight grin. He held my chart in hi
hands, but he didn’t look at it. H
probably had it memorized. Anothenurse, one I didn’t know, stood next t
him. She was young and pretty with dar
brown hair and a reassuring smile.
“Hey, Kate,” he said, flipping on thoverhead lights. “This is Tammy. I’
sure you two will get to know on
another soon enough.”
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“Hi.” I nodded at her.
“So, are you ready?” Dr. Lowel
asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.Who was ever ready to be sliced ope
and have tubes put inside their veins?
Leslie patted my shoulder. “You’r
my hero,” she whispered.
I slipped my right arm out of my br
strap and tank-top sleeve. The procedur
happened while I was conscious, but really wished they’d knock me ou
Because of the local anesthetic, I didn
feel pain. I felt the tugging, though. Oh
and I could hear the little tools and thclanking on the metal tray. Those sound
alone were enough to make me nauseous
Leslie smoothed the skin on the righ
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side of my chest with an alcohol wipe
The scent of rubbing alcohol woul
forever be burned in my nostrils, lik
someone’s initials etched on a silveflask—which I was pretty sure wasn
used for rubbing alcohol.
“You’re going to feel some stinging,
Dr. Lowell said.
Stinging? I didn’t think stabbin
someone with large needles multipl
imes in the chest qualified as “stinging.I took a deep breath.
Leslie held my hand, and I squeeze
t harder each time the local anestheti
pricked me. Tears formed behind mids, but I fought them back. I could b
strong. This was nothing.
When Dr. Lowell finished, the be
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started moving. My head slowly san
down as my feet began to rise. Next t
me, Leslie never let go of my hand. He
soft expression gave me strength. balled my other hand into a fist as har
as I could, then slowly let my fingers fa
out. I concentrated on breathing steadily
My eyes stayed closed.
Dr. Lowell started working. I knew
exactly what he was doing. First he’
nsert the needle into a vein in my chestThen, with Tammy’s help, he’d put
guide wire into the vein. Next, he’d cu
one small slit in my chest and another i
my neck. That part I didn’t mind. I fenothing when they cut me. It was the nex
part I dreaded. Leslie knew that, being i
Tammy’s position last time, so sh
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grabbed the small white garbage can an
held it up to my mouth—just in case.
Dr. Lowell slid the central line in th
ower cut on my chest and came out ahe slit in my neck. I felt the pressure i
caused. My stomach started to churn, an
my mouth exploded with saliva. I trie
o hold back. Really, I did. But I couldn
help it.
“Go ahead, Kate,” Dr. Lowel
assured me.I puked in the basket. Thankfully, th
nurses on the third floor of Blan
Children’s Hospital were used to peopl
hrowing up. Leslie wiped my moutwith a wet paper towel she’d grabbe
before she sat down. She swiped m
hair back and sighed. I nodded to her.
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The rest of the procedure happene
quickly. I didn’t open my eyes until th
stitches around the new cuts had bee
put in place. Already, the central line felweird, but I knew it would become jus
another appendage once I got used to it.
“All done,” Dr. Lowell said as h
straightened out the bed. “Can you s
up?”
Leslie, still holding my hand, helpe
me up. I felt dizzy and light-headed. Throom began to spin. I shook my head
and Leslie guided me back down
Feeling the burn rise in my throat,
squeezed Leslie’s hand twice—oucode. It was the price you paid fo
having the hospital nurses as your bes
friends. As soon as I rolled to the side
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Leslie had the wastepaper basket ready
The worst part wasn’t the upchuck
actually; it was the lingering bil
aftertaste.I released my grip of Leslie’s han
and swung both of my arms over m
eyes. Inhaling deeply, I let the air out i
a small stream. I just needed a minute.
The first time, Dr. Lowell ha
showed me a video of the procedure
and I panicked. I’d almost run from hioffice screaming. And I would have …
f I hadn’t passed out first. When I cam
o, the central line had already bee
placed.The second time, I cried and threw u
during the entire procedure. All thing
considered, I aced it this time.
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I reached down and touched my new
appendage involuntarily. I knew what
felt like, but my hand went to it anyway
Feeling it there, protruding from mchest like a lamp cord, made everythin
more real. Until now, it hadn’t been har
o convince myself that the last few day
were just a dream. In a dream, you ca
pinch yourself and wake up. Now that
had needles and wires pushed throug
me, I couldn’t pretend anymore. Thiwas real.
“Are you ready to head down to X
ray?” Dr. Lowell asked.
I sighed and let Leslie help me upDr. Lowell had a wheelchair ready.
hated being rolled all over the hospita
but honestly, I was in no condition to b
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walking. I sat down like a good patien
and allowed Leslie to wheel me down t
he second floor where the technician
would X-ray my new decoration, makinsure of its correct position. I had n
doubt of its perfect placement, though
Dr. Lowell was one of the best pediatri
oncologists in the nation. That’s wh
we’d moved here.
After confirming the line’s faultles
position, Leslie taped it down. Shwheeled me into another small roo
with a couple of reclining chairs, a bed
and a sixty inch TV hanging on the wal
moved myself to one of the leatherecliners and got comfortable. My blac
diary lay in my lap, ready for my nex
entry. Leslie attached the chemo drip t
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my newly placed central line.
“Apple juice or orange juice?”
“Orange.”
“You need to drink it all, Kate,Leslie warned. “I know you. No one els
s here today for you to give it to, and
hate cleaning out wastebaskets fille
with juice.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I’ll drink it.”
“And I’m bringing you som
crackers, too.” She walked out the doobefore I could argue.
Alone, I opened my diary and rea
he last entry. I needed to write abou
how I felt, but right now, I just felt num—and a little hungry. Even though
didn’t want to admit it, I was thankful t
Leslie for offering crackers. I hate
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nconveniencing her.
I toyed with my pen, bumping it o
he paper and then sticking the end in m
mouth. I didn’t know what to write. Mmind was blank. No, I didn’t want to b
here. Yes, this really sucked. That’s all
had. Maybe I could blame it on m
empty stomach. I felt detached—anothe
reason to side against the dream—like
ghost watching a complete stranger
There was no connection. That waprobably what they meant by an “out-of
body” experience.
The click of the door brought me bac
from numbness-world. Maybe thcrackers and orange juice would hel
stir some real emotion to write down.
“Thanks, Leslie,” I said, looking up.
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My heart had never technicall
stopped before, that I knew of (and I’
pretty sure I’d know that ), but at th
sight of him, I wondered if it just had. Iwas like one of those movies where th
woman dies, and the super-hot gu
started performing CPR. Then, her hear
suddenly began to beat, her eyes flew
open, and the first thing she saw was th
man of her dreams giving her mouth t
mouth. Unfortunately, the gorgeous dirtyblond with sapphire eyes standing in th
doorway wasn’t kissing me. The rest o
t was accurate, though.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know anyone wan here.” He smiled. “Hi. I’m Damian.”
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Chapter 2
November 1 Dear Diary,
Damian, Dr. Lowell’s son, i
volunteering at the hospita
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pparently, he got lost and ended up i
he chemo room with me. I didn’t mind
t. All. Granted, his sandy-blond hai
s spiked with too much gel, but hooked hot. Way hot. Even in hi
oversized sky blue scrubs.
He stayed in the chemo room lon
enough to ask my name and where th
storage room was. His eyes kep
darting to the chemo drip hanging from
he IV pole beside me. I don’t knowmaybe since he’s the son of a
oncologist, I expected more. He seeme
uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to b
here. I guess I can’t blame him fohat.
I wonder how often he’s there. If I’l
et to see him again. Yeah, I know, it’
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stupid, but I can’t seem to help myself.
Is it too much to hope that maybe
ust maybe, he could look past th
cancer and see me?
~*~
On Thursday, I almost skipped int
he hospital. That was a first. As
walked down the hall to the dreade
chemo room, I kept glancing aroundhoping to catch some glimpse of spike
blond hair. I saw nothing. No sign o
over-sized sky-blue scrubs, either. noticed that the spring in my ste
disappeared, and I entered the chem
room, ready to be hooked up like a hose
Leslie grinned at me when I walke
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n. “How are you today, Kate?”
“Eh,” I answered as I sat down in th
blue chair. “Alone again?”
Leslie nodded. “For now.”“That’s good, though, right?” I aske
as Leslie snapped the tube to the lin
mbedded in my chest.
“Yeah. It’s good. Lots of kids i
remission.”
I debated asking Leslie abou
Damian. Would she even know? I didnwant to seem like I was overtl
nterested, but Leslie had been there fo
me for years. Holding my hair back as
puked my guts out had to count fosomething, right?
“Do you know anything about Dr
Lowell’s son, Damian?” I asked, no
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meeting her eye, and not watching he
hook the tubes together either.
“You don’t want to get mixed up wit
Damian.”“Why not? What’s wrong with him?”
Leslie sat down in the empty recline
beside me. “Damian is here so his fathe
can keep an eye on him. Dr. Lowell’
wife and oldest son, Liam, died in a ca
accident two years ago. Damian’s bee
unraveling ever since.”The wedding photo of my doctor an
his wife that sat on his desk flashe
hrough my mind. “Oh, I didn’t know...”
A wave of pity washed over meHow horrible it would be to lose you
wife in such a tragic, unexpected way
And even worse to have to bury your so
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at the same time. I had appointment
with Dr. Lowell during that time. Hi
pain never showed. Dr. Lowell was
pediatric oncologist, though—his jocentered around dying kids and trying t
save them. It was horribly ironic that h
could save others’ kids, but not his own
How devastating.
And Damian? He had to be my age
Fifteen back when it happened, and t
have suffered so much loss. My hearached for him. Of course he would b
unraveling. Who wouldn’t?
“Um, maybe, if he’s still hurting, the
—”“Katie,” Leslie interrupted, “it’
more than that. He’s…well, he wa
kicked out of Dowling High School, an
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now he’s been expelled from Lincoln
t’s only gotten worse. He’s bee
arrested twice this year.”
Arrested? Damian’s a criminal?“What did he do?”
“I’m not sure what he did to ge
booted out of Dowling, but his father ha
o leave here to bail him out of jail fo
stealing a car two months ago. Las
week, Damian got picked up for publi
ntoxication and destruction of privatproperty—here at the hospital, no less.”
“The window down the hall?”
asked, remembering workers there th
day Dr. Lowell had told me my latesnumbers.
Leslie sighed. “Courtesy of Damia
Lowell.”
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I nodded, taking it in. He didn’t loo
ike a troublemaker. I thought about hi
smile and the way the deep dimples o
his cheeks gave him an innocent lookmagining him in a jail cell wearing a
ugly orange jumpsuit entered my mind. I
didn’t fit. My image of a bad bo
ncluded black leather jackets
motorcycles, tattoos up and down hi
arms, more earrings than me, and
cigarette poking out his mouth. But whadid I know? I’d spent most of my life i
a hospital on drugs. And because of tha
was invisible at school. I was th
person to avoid.Leslie interrupted my thoughts
“Orange or apple?”
It took me a second to realize that sh
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spoke. “Uh, apple,” I said withou
ooking up. After the door clicked shu
behind her, I sunk into my seat. I tucke
my legs underneath me and pulled out mdiary, staring at it.
When Leslie came back in with m
plastic cup of juice, I thanked her, stil
ost in thought. If Damian was hurting
why did that mean I had to stay awa
from him? Maybe he needed a friend
someone to relate to.Granted, I didn’t know what it wa
ike to lose a parent or sibling, but
knew about pain—and how in one singl
moment, your entire life could be flippeupside down. And I understood abou
being an outcast. How everyone felt s
sorry for you, and the only way the
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knew how to respond was to ignore yo
or give you sad looks and sympatheti
smiles.
I watched the door, hoping he’d geost again. But the only person wh
walked through was Leslie at the end o
my two-hour treatment.
I went to bed that night thinking abou
Damian and feeling guilty for ever bein
sorry for myself. He had lost so muc
more than I. At least I still had my wholfamily for support. Damian only had hi
dad left, and maybe that wasn’t enoug
for him.
The sickening effects of chempunched me in the gut over the weekend
Energy drained from me like wate
down a sink. I was tired and weak
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barely wanting to get out of bed. M
stomach began to turn early Saturda
morning and didn’t stop until Sunda
night. Mom helped me to the bathrooand kept the small wastebasket next t
my bed empty for when I couldn’t mak
t to the toilet.
She also brought me a stack of book
from the library, but they remaine
untouched on my nightstand. A few time
reached for my diary. I jotted dowsome notes about not feeling well an
ried to stay strong, especially in front o
my mom.
Damian crossed my mind a fewimes. When I pictured him in my head
he silently reminded me of how blesse
was. I barely knew him, yet tha
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weekend he gave me strength. Maybe
somehow, I could return the favor. Eve
hough Leslie said not to get involve
with him, that didn’t mean I couldn’t talo him if I happened to run into him. It’
not like he’d ask me out on a date.
What does ‘involved’ even mean?
On Monday I felt decent enough fo
half a day of school before my nex
reatment. I didn’t see Damian that da
or on Thursday. Finally I was resolveo speak with him, and now I hadn’t see
him. I wandered the corridor with my I
pole traveling around with me like a
unwanted companion.I had stopped at the nurses’ station t
alk with Leslie. Part of me wanted t
come out and ask about Damian, bu
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maybe that wasn’t such a good idea
Like Leslie had said, the only reaso
Damian volunteered was so that Dr
Lowell could keep an eye on him.“How are you feeling, Kate?” Dr
Lowell asked on his way to mak
rounds.
“The weekend wasn’t good, but I’
feeling better today.”
He studied me over the rim of hi
glasses. “Well, don’t forget I have yoon a more potent dose than two year
ago, so it’s very important you take
easy.”
Yeah, I thought. It didn’t get aneasier than lying in bed, throwing up al
weekend. I didn’t want to strain mysel
with over-activity or anything.
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A small snicker escaped me. “Okay,
will.”
Dr. Lowell made a humming noise i
his throat. “I mean it, Kate. Your immunsystem won’t be able to handle muc
more than a very basic cold.”
“I know,” I insisted. “I’m taking
easy.”
“All right.” Dr. Lowell sighed, an
hen asked Leslie about someone’s tes
results.Leslie followed me back to th
chemo room where she unhooked me
forced me to drink another glass of juice
and reminded me of what Dr. Lowelhad said earlier. I rolled my eyes.
I never found Damian. Maybe h
avoided the cancer floor. Or his father.
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Disappointed, I walked out to my car
Surely Dr. Lowell hadn’t expelled hi
from the hospital. That would b
counterproductive.I swept my fingers through my hair
knowing I had a couple more weeks wit
t at the most. The cold wind blew, and
caught a whiff of cigarette smoke. M
stomach started rolling. Just make it t
he car , I thought. Almost there. Even a
said it to myself, I knew I wasn’t goino make it. And what if I did? I couldn
puke in the backseat of my yellow
Volkswagen Beetle. Instinctively,
wisted my hair back. I ran toward thsmall patch of grass just a few fee
ahead of me. Luckily, I only had appl
uice in my stomach. It didn’t take lon
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o empty. When I straightened up,
ooked around, hoping no one saw.
That’s when I noticed him.
Walking toward me, stepping on hicigarette, was Damian.
I had two options: pretend I didn
see him and beeline to my car, or wa
for him to acknowledge he’d witnesse
my little episode.
Our eyes locked, and I couldn
move. Crap. Too late for option oneSince our first meeting, I had worked ou
a whole conversation in my head abou
mundane things, none of which centere
around vomit. Now, he’d seen mhrowing up in the hospital parking lot
and I had caught him smoking on
smoke-free hospital campus. Not grea
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conversation starters.
“Hey,” he said, stopping in front o
me. “You okay?”
I nodded, wishing my breath didnsmell as horrible as I thought it did
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He cocked his head to the side i
recognition, dark lashes partiall
concealing the blue behind them. “
know you.”
“I, uh, showed you the store room couple weeks ago.” As I said it,
seriously turned around and pointed t
he hospital as if he didn’t know
oomed behind us. Nope, definitely not how I ha
magined this little chat. I felt awkward
but Damian looked completely at ease
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standing casually in faded blue jeans an
his oversized hospital scrub top.
“Oh, yeah. Kate, right? You sur
ou’re all right? I can take you inside osomething.”
“No. It’s fine. Thanks.” I smiled. H
was concerned. How sweet. And h
remembered my name. Even sweeter.
“You sure? It’s kinda my job.” H
ugged on his uniform for emphasis.
“No. Really. It’s okay.” I cleared mhroat. He wasn’t walking away. “So, d
ou volunteer here every day? I haven
seen you around.”
“Every damn day,” he sighed, nooffering more.
“You don’t want to be here, do you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t lik
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hospitals.”
“Me neither,” I said too quickly
biting my lower lip. “It’s boring, smell
bad, and there’s lots of needles.”He grinned. “I eat supper here ever
night. Trust me, there are worse things i
hat building than needles. Hopefully yo
haven’t had the pleasure.”
I chuckled, and Damian starte
aughing with me. Just like that, th
ension disappeared.“You’re right. I’ve never been able t
keep hospital food down,” I said, stil
giggling.
“Maybe it would be more bearable ihad some company.” He brushed
wind-blown strand of hair out of m
face. My breath caught at his touch. I
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was surprisingly gentle.
I blushed. “Yeah. Maybe. Distrac
ou from the taste, at least.”
He curved up the corner of his mouth“You here often?”
“Every Monday and Thursday for th
next ten weeks.”
“Ouch. Well, I guess I know where t
find you on Monday.”
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Chapter 3
November 12 Dear Diary,
I woke up this morning to a larg
clump of hair on my pillow. Eve
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hough I knew it was coming, I wasn
repared. The first time my hair starte
alling out, Mom kept a little of it in
bag and put it in the FIGHTERscrapbook she’d made for me. Thi
ime, I balled it up in my hands, stare
at it for a few minutes, then threw it i
he trash. I keep telling myself, “It’
only hair. It will grow back.” Becaus
sometimes, the mini pep talk actually
works. In the shower, I took great car
washing it. I used extra conditione
and brushed through it as lightly as
could. My efforts weren’t enough. Morhair than usual ended up in the drain
When I got back in my room, I change
my mind and yanked some strands ou
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of the garbage. I placed them in
lastic bag for Mom.
It’s only hair. It will grow back.
I cried. A girl at school asked me how I wa
eeling today. I didn’t know how t
respond. No student has ever asked m
hat before. I told her I felt fine an
hanked her for asking. She nodde
olitely then walked off to her nex
class. I wish now that I would’ve askeher for her name.
I hope I feel good this weekend
om wants help getting ready fo
Thanksgiving, and I don’t want to sit ohe sidelines. Besides, my Pinterest
nspired mother has a way with helpin
me keep my mind off things.
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~*~
Curiosity got the better of me, an
Friday night I spent the evening in m
room with my laptop searching th
archives of the Des Moines RegisterSometimes it reported on fatal ca
accidents in the state. If not, it woul
surely have an obituary.
I found a small article dated twears previous on April 21. Th
egister said that a vehicle with tw
passengers, Nora Lowell and her sonLiam, had lost control during
hunderstorm and hydroplaned into th
nterstate barrier. Both passengers wer
killed on impact.
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I also found their obituaries in th
paper dated a few days later. Liam wa
eighteen when he died. A year older tha
me now. He had just been accepted inthe pre-law program at Yale. Mother an
son had a dual funeral service.
I stared at the screen. Even in blac
and white, the picture of Nora showed
striking resemblance to Damian, an
even more to Liam. The brothers looke
so much alike that they could have beewins. I traced my fingers over Liam’
picture on the screen. Were he an
Damian close, like I imagined brother
being? A lump rose in my throat, and stifled a sob as I closed my laptop.
hrew back my violet comforter and fel
asleep with my jeans still on.
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On Saturday, I felt surprisingly good
health-wise, anyway. I helped my mo
bake pumpkin pies from scratch to put i
he freezer for Thanksgiving. For sommoms, putting decorative piecrust leave
around the edges and in the middle wa
a bonus. For my mom, it was a necessit
for the perfect pie. As the three pie
baked, I helped her make a beautifu
centerpiece for the table. My mom wa
so crafty—I could barely cut a straighine. But I think I did a smash-up jo
placing the glue dots in precisely th
right spots on the homemade cornucopia
Knowing the stupidity of it, I hunonto Damian’s words of a visit o
Monday all weekend—even if it wa
ust his job. I kind of wished I’d left m
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gloves at the hospital so that I’d have a
excuse to see him sooner.
~*~
Leslie left the room for my orang
uice. I settled in for the next two hourswondering if Damian would show up
My wondering didn’t last long. Damian
wearing sky blue scrubs that brushe
nicely over thick biceps, walked iholding a plastic cup of orange juice.
Don’t stare!
“Leslie said, ‘no peach schnapps.Sorry,” he said, smirking and handing m
he cup.
I smiled, half-surprised to see him
“Thanks for trying. It’s probably bette
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for you this way. I’m not sure how wel
hat would mix with this.” I pointed t
he bag hanging from the pole.
“So, what is that stuff, anyway?Damian shot a glance up to where
pointed.
“A very potent chemotherapy drug.”
Damian sat down beside me. I coul
smell the smoke on his clothes. He trie
o cover it up with too much cologne.
gnored the slight stir in my stomach.“Does it hurt? Having cancer?” Hi
eyebrows furrowed.
“No, it doesn’t hurt. I can’t feel that
have it. I just feel the side effects. It’sort of like having a flu that doesn’t g
away.”
“How long have you had it?”
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“Dr. Lowell … I mean, your dad
diagnosed me with ALL—Acut
Lymphatic Leukemia—when I wa
eleven. We did chemo for almost simonths, and I went into remission, so m
white cell count was back to norma
Then it came back two years ago. W
did another round of chemo, and again
went into remission a year later. Now
t’s back.”
“You talk about it like you’re okawith having leukemia,” he said
confused.
I shrugged. “I’ve tried crying
screaming, throwing things, avoidinpeople. It is what it is. I didn’t choose t
have cancer, but it happened.”
He let out a puff of air as his eye
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drifted over me. “Damn, I couldn’t do it
Being here all the time, letting the nurse
poke and prod you like you’re
cadaver.”“You would if you had to.” I shifte
n my seat.
“You’ve been doing this for, what
seven years? Wouldn’t it be easier jus
o give up, live while you can, d
whatever the hell you want, and not b
held back by shit like drugs anappointments?” His voice rose as h
spoke.
I fidgeted with a tube, giving myself
second to try and figure him out.“Sometimes I think that,” I answere
calmly. “Every time I go out o
remission, getting back in gets harder
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’ve gotten sicker each time. The chem
gets stronger while I get weaker. So
eah, it would be easier to say I don
want to do this anymore.” I lookearound the room. This wasn’t th
conversation I had envisioned. Yet
somehow I didn’t mind it.
“I could go to Disney World. Se
Greece. Climb Mount Everest. Swi
with dolphins. Watch a volcano erupt
And not be sick for any of it. Enjoy thime I have left. Or be sick and then die
and not do any of those things. But I han
on to the hope that I can do it all, not b
sick, and not have cancer.”“I don’t think the statistics are o
our side.”
I opened my mouth to retort the
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closed it. Most people, when the
earned I had leukemia, grimaced an
old me they were sorry, and encourage
me. Other than with the hospital staff, I’never had a conversation like thi
before. I appreciated his bluntness.
I sighed. “I know the stats, and the
get scarier every time I have to com
back here. But I have people counting o
me. Someone fills that small percentage
Why shouldn’t it be me? Staying positivs medicine, you know.”
Damian looked solemn. He was th
son of my doctor, and I wondered how
much he knew—how much Dr. Lowelalked about his work and the surviva
rates of patients.
Damian’s gaze settled on me. “You
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file was sitting on Dad’s desk, so
flipped through it.”
My eyebrows shot up, surprised an
actually a little thrilled that he took thnitiative.
“It says you’re on the bone marrow
ransplant list.”
I cringed. During my last lapse, m
best friend was Molly, a nine-year-ol
girl who had her chemo treatments th
same days as me. When I went intremission, she wasn’t showing any sign
of improvement. Dr. Lowell put her o
he bone-marrow transplant list, a lis
with over ten-thousand names. Nsuitable donor was ever found. I went t
he hospital during her treatment times t
keep her company until one day, sh
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wasn’t there. It rained the day of he
funeral. She would have liked it—sh
oved the rain.
“Yes,” I said, pushing Molly’memory away. “It may be my onl
chance. And if I get it, my stat
ncrease.”
He scoffed. “It’s one helluva list.”
“It is. But there’s always hope.”
“Your folks aren’t a match?”
I swallowed. “No, they’re not. Thegot tested last time. Their HLA type isn
compatible.”
“So, how do you get a compatibl
HLA?” His dimples deepened when halked. It was hard to ignore.
“The best matches come fro
siblings. I don’t have any.”
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His playful grin faded. “Yeah, m
neither.”
The words hung in the air for
moment. I stared at the linoleum.Damian spoke quietly. “I admire you
You’re strong.”
I was strong because cancer i
resolute, and I didn’t want the beast t
win.
“Now you know me. How about you
What’s your story?” I asked.Damian sighed and adjusted hi
nametag. “I’m the son of Jackso
Lowell, Doctor Extraordinaire. Tha
means I have a lot of time to myself. play the guitar. Write music. I’ve beate
every Assassin’s Creed game. And
don’t live up to my father’s expectations
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Hell, I don’t know if I live up t
anyone’s expectations.”
“I’m sure your dad just wants you t
be happy.”Damian grunted. “Whose definition o
happy? His? Mine?” His eyebrows rose
“Yours?”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t happy only hav
one definition?”
“Does it? Are you happy?”
I thought about it for a few moments. had beaten my disease twice before, an
was determined to do it again. Mor
han anything, I was happy just to b
alive. “Yeah, I am.”His eyes narrowed. “Having a tub
sticking out of your chest, being hooke
up to toxic drugs, getting sick—tha
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makes you happy?”
“Oh, well, no. But…”
“Not that easy, is it?” The edge in hi
voice pricked at me. I couldn’t tell if hwas talking about me or himself.
“The outcome of—”
“You don’t know the outcome.” H
sounded angry, his eyes blazing. “Yo
only hope it will make you happy, whe
t might kill you. That’s reality.”
I pulled my lips tight. “True, but makes my parents happy to see m
fight.”
“Bullshit. They’re not happy having
daughter who has to battle cancer. And iou die, well, how can they be happ
about that?”
“If—”
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Damian cut me off. “Yeah. If. S
much is based on that word, and ther
are no fucking guarantees attached to it
What makes you happy now may be whadestroys you later. Or those you love
Then what? Sometimes, being happ
sn’t worth the risk.”
“And sometimes it is,” I said quietly.
Damian brightened again, offering
slight smile. “See what I mean? Nothin
n this shithole life is easy.”“Just because it’s not easy, doesn
mean it’s not worth it.”
“So tell me then: is it worth it?” Hi
blue eyes searched mine. “Worth all thime in this place?”
It was a question I’d asked mysel
many times. One I didn’t have an answe
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for. Sometimes it didn’t seem worth it. I
fought and lost, no one gained anything
’d have wasted the last years, months
weeks of my life on hoping. I’d be deadmy parents would be heartbroken. N
one would win. If I stopped fighting
went off the chemo and accepted m
fate, I could enjoy my last moments o
his earth. My parents could enjoy the
with me, making memories they coul
cling to long after I was gone. But if…What if I kept fighting? And won
Then we all won. The chances wer
slim, I knew that. Wasn’t it wort
holding on to, though?I stared at the wall in front of me. “
don’t know."
"I could do what makes me happ
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now and risk being miserable later.”
felt Damian’s gaze on me as he spoke
“Or I could please the good doctor an
be miserable now. Choices come witconsequences, some good, some bad. It’
risky, and it’s always, always based o
f.”
I swallowed hard and took a sip o
my juice before lifting my eyes to him
“Does your dad want you to be
doctor?”Damian scoffed. “I’m sure he would
He had his career picked out when h
was my age, med school and everything
Me, well, I’m just hoping to graduate.He tugged up the corner of his mouth
showing off his gorgeous dimples.
My stomach tightened. Not now. No
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n front of Damian again.
His smirk faded. “Hey, are you okay
You’re white. I can get Leslie.”
I shook my head. There was no time. shot my hand down beside me but th
wastebasket wasn’t there. Oh no!
eaned forward and heaved. When I’
finished, I noticed Damian on the floo
n front of me, holding the basket wit
one hand, his other resting on my thigh.
His eyebrows shot up. “Feel better?”I nodded, surprised that he was there
His gaze was kind, his expression soft.
“Can I get you some water o
something?”“Yeah. Please.”
The door opened and Leslie walke
hrough. It only took her a millisecond t
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analyze the scene before she rushe
over.
“You all right, Katie?” She picked u
he full garbage can. “Do you need somwater?”
Damian appeared next to her, holdin
a Styrofoam cup. “I’ve got it.”
Leslie watched as Damian handed m
he cup. She looked sideways at him an
hen at me. Her mouth opened as if sh
was going to make a comment thedecided against it.
“We’re fine.” He took the empty cup
from me, then faced Leslie.
What? Did he just say “we” werine? As in, him and me together?
“Well,” she drawled out. “Uh, I gues
f everything is under control, I’l
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ust…”
Leslie looked at me and sighed.
nodded, hoping to reassure her. I knew
what she thought. The look in her eysaid, Be careful, Katie. Leslie took
final glance at Damian before sh
walked out.
“I’m real popular with the nurse
around here,” Damian jeered at th
closed door. “Especially that one.”
“She’s just protective. This is the lasplace she ever wants to see any of u
who’ve been here and left.”
Damian sat down beside me an
grunted. “I doubt that.”“You doubt what?” My eyebrow
furrowed. “She cares about us, Damian.
“I didn’t say she didn’t,” Damia
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snapped, his blue irises drilling int
mine.
“Then what did you mean?”
“The last place she wants to see yos in a coffin.” His words were hard an
fell to the floor. As soon as he said them
his sad gaze shifted to his feet.
Was he thinking about the last plac
he saw his mom and brother?
I didn’t say anything. We sat i
silence for a few minutes until he shiftehis eyes to my lap. “What’s that?”
“My diary.” It sounded so childis
when the words came out. “Uh, cance
diary. It’s my cancer diary.”Yeah, nice cover-up, Spaz.
“So, you write down stuff abou
cancer?” Damian asked, glancing at me.
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“Yeah. A nurse in my mom’s suppor
group suggested it when I was firs
diagnosed.”
“So, you’ve always written in onehuh?”
I wanted to brush it off like it was n
big deal. Just a dumb diary thing. Bu
honestly, it was a big deal. It helped m
more than anything else. “I know
sounds stupid, but the diary gets me.
can talk to my parents, or the nurses, bunone of them have to go through this. I
reality, I’m alone. So I write down how
feel about having cancer, about th
reatment, the side effects, about stareand whispers from kids at school. Abou
anything. It helps me cope—like three
dollar therapy between two pieces o
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cardboard.”
Damian chuckled. “Cheap therapy.”
I tilted my head to him and chuckled
“Yeah.”The door creaked open, and we bot
umped. Dr. Lowell cleared his throat.
“Sorry to interrupt, but, uh, Damian
can I see you for a few minutes? In m
office?”
I couldn’t see Damian’s face, but hi
hand curled into a fist. “Sure.”Dr. Lowell nodded at me, then th
door closed. Damian shook his head an
muttered something under his breath.
“Are we still on for dinner in thcafeteria?” he asked, standing up
“Crappy food, but hey, I’m paying.”
I laughed. “Okay.”
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“When are you done in here?”
I glanced at the clock. “Forty-fiv
minutes.”
“I’ll pick you up.”“See you then.”
Damian flashed me a dimpled gri
before he disappeared out the door.
Unable to stop thinking about him,
opened my diary and wrote about ou
conversation and how he had sat righ
here while I puked. His expressioshowed the normal reactions of concer
and worry, but there was something else
oo. Something I didn’t recognize.
wrote about the feel of his hand on mineHow I couldn’t decide if the butterflie
were because of the chemo, the fact tha
just finished throwing up, or becaus
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his touch felt amazing.
I was so engrossed in writing that
barely noticed Leslie standing next t
me. When I looked up, I jumped.“Sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to startl
ou.”
“Oh. That’s okay. I didn’t hear yo
come in,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“Do you mind if I sit?”
Odd. Leslie had never asked before
“Go ahead.”“I wanted to speak with you,” sh
started. “About Damian.” Leslie wa
older than my mother with two grow
children of her own. She’d alwayreated me as an equal, but this wa
going to be a “mom” conversation,
could tell.
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“I know you said to stay away fro
him. Really, it just happened. Nothing i
going on, though. We’re just friends.”
fidgeted with the corner of my diary as fumbled over my words. “I don’t know
f we’re friends. I mean, we’re not mor
han friends.” I flushed.
Leslie’s voice was soft. “Kate
Damian is in a lot of pain.”
“I know, but I don’t think that’s
reason to stay away from him.”“No, it’s not.” Leslie placed her han
over mine. “That’s not why I said that.”
“Maybe him getting into trouble is hi
way of reaching out.”“It is,” Leslie agreed.
I was confused. Last time, Lesli
ried to scare me into having nothing t
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do with him. Now, she suddenly agree
with everything I said.
“Then what? Why did you tell me t
keep my distance?”“I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
“I’ll be fine. Like I said, there’
nothing going on.”
Leslie sighed. “Kate, I saw the wa
he looked at you. I’ve never seen hi
actually interact with a patient before
What he did for you in here, well, that’what scares me.”
I shook my head. “It was just a kin
gesture. Anyone would have done it.”
“You’re strong, and you can handlt.”
“Okay…?” I didn’t know where sh
was going with this. The expression o
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her face morphed from concerned to sad
“Oh, Kate. I’m worried about wha
ou might do to him.”
“What…what do you mean?”She glanced away, but not before
saw moisture in her eyes. Turning bac
o me, she cupped my hand in both o
hers. “Damian is still mourning hi
mother and brother’s death. It’
destroying him. He’s destroying himself
Damian isn’t as strong as you are.”Leslie fell silent. I watched as sh
pursed her lips. She squeezed my han
nside hers. “If he falls for you, an
something happens to you…” Lesliswallowed hard. That’s when I knew
what she was going to say. That’s when
understood her warnings.
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I dropped my head, closing my eye
as Leslie finished. “If you die, if yo
don’t recover … Katie, it’ll kill him.”
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Chapter 4
“They might look like mashepotatoes, but I guarantee, they’re not.
hink they come from a box and ar
mixed with some sort of mashed turni
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and white sand. May I suggest a bake
one, instead?” Damian picked up a foil
wrapped baked potato and plopped it o
my tray. He grabbed a dollop of butter ia paper cup. “The butter is actuall
real.” He winked at me.
I giggled. In the back of my mind
Leslie’s words repeated over and ove
again. I saw the way he looks at you
e’s never interacted with a patien
before. If he falls for you and you diet’ll kill him.
I just wanted to enjoy dinner. Okay
maybe enjoy wasn’t the right word
Tolerate dinner. Enjoy Damian. But howcould I enjoy being with him, stare int
his ocean-blue eyes and not think I coul
kill him?
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No. I shrugged inwardly. Leslie wa
obviously exaggerating. Still…Would
have one more person to disappoint if
couldn’t fight hard enough?One step at a time. Just concentrat
on keeping this meal down in front o
him.
“Corn or broccoli?” Damian asked.
“Hmm.” I shifted my eyes betwee
he two. “I’ll go with corn. Is that safe?”
Damian laughed. “Well, none of itsafe.” He scooped up a heap of corn fo
my plate and dumped another on his
Like with school cafeteria food, ther
was no end to the horrible hospital foookes.
We found an empty table and sa
down. “I still think you’re risking you
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ife with that meatloaf,” he said.
“Well, I wasn’t sure if that wa
chicken or cat meat.” I nodded to th
chicken strips on Damian’s plate.“It’s hospital food, not Chinese!” H
ooked offended.
“Either way, I think we’re doomed.”
aughed.
“Cheers.” Damian held up his glas
of Mountain Dew.
Our glasses clinked as we hit theogether, then we both took a sip.
“So, tell me about life befor
cancer,” Damian said, taking a bite o
his turnip and sand potatoes.I tilted my head and eyed hi
spoonful.
He laughed. “I’m immune. Besides,
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ike sand.”
“Well, during remissions, my dad an
would go to the country club and golf
ot. I don’t think I’d mind joining thLPGA. My dad says I’m pretty good,”
said, tipping my head up. “I reall
wanna make the varsity golf team a
school this spring.”
“Ugh. Country club brat, huh? Yo
probably do everything your parents say
don’t you?”I forced a smile. After all they’d don
for me, it was the least I could do. “You
dad’s a doctor; I’m sure you’ve swung
club or two in your day.”Damian grunted. “Cliché.”
I raised my eyebrows at him an
smirked. Damian licked his lips slyly
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shook his head, and gave in. “Privat
golf lessons. Every summer. Since I wa
seven.”
“I knew it!” I sat up.Damian laughed. “I haven’t set foo
on a golf course in over two years.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I never played with m
dad. It was sorta me and my brother’
hing. And now…” Damian eyes cloude
over, and his voice softened as if he jusrealized what he’d said. “Well, I don
play anymore.”
Damian’s head lowered, and he too
a bite of his corn. I averted my eyesembarrassed about bringing his brothe
o his attention.
“Maybe we can play togethe
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sometime?” I said, wondering if
would be enough of a topic change.
“I dunno. You’d probably kick m
ass.” He shifted his weight in his seatThen he cleared his throat. “God, I nee
a cigarette. Uh, I’ll be right back.” H
almost tipped over his chair as he stoo
and hurried out of the cafeteria.
I felt stupid as I watched him go
Alone, I plopped my elbow on the tabl
and picked at the food. I ate a few bitehen put the fork down.
Part of me wondered if he woul
come back. I’d hit a nerve, a memory o
Liam. “ He’s not strong like you, Kate.What a great first date. Was that wha
his was? No. I pushed the ridiculou
notion from my mind. A guy sitting nex
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hand.“It starts happening that quickly
huh?” Damian’s voice was soft.
For a few moments, he didn’t sa
anything, and I didn’t look up. All could think of was why I hadn’t tosse
he hair away. Now, not only had he see
me balding, he’d also seen m
nsecurity.
I lifted my eyes to him, nodded
untangled the hair out of my hand an
wadded it up.“I’m sorry,” he said. “Some peopl
do wigs, don’t they?”
“Yeah. I don’t. They itch,” I said
dismissing how much it really bothereme. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back. I
always does.”
“But you still have to deal with
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falling out all the time until it’s gone
That’s just a reminder of what’
happening.”
Did he really just say that?“Side-effect of chemo.” I shrugged
hoping he hadn’t heard the crack in m
voice.
I wanted to tuck my hair behind m
ear, but I worried that another clum
would fall out. Instead, I picked up m
water and gulped it down.Damian’s phone rang—an ol
Journey song, something my dad listene
o. He grabbed it then touched th
screen. He tensed and shoved the iPhonback in his pocket.
“If you have to go…”
“No. It’s just the old man. He ca
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wait.” Damian shoved a spoonful o
food in his mouth. “So, where do you g
o school?”
“Roosevelt.” I hesitated. “You?”“I’m between schools right now. I’l
start at Valley in January.”
I wanted to ask why he’d bee
expelled. Instead I blurted, “Why di
ou steal a car?”
Damian’s eyebrows shot up faste
han a rocket. “My favorite nurse tolou, huh?”
“Sort of.”
“Bitch,” he muttered to himself. The
he grinned. “To see if I could.”Damian’s phone rang again. This tim
he jerked it out, cursed, and switched
off. “I’d better go before the asshol
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pages me over the intercom.”
“Yeah. That’d be embarrassing.”
“Thanks for eating with me tonight,
he said. “I’ll see you Thursday.”He pivoted and walked away before
had a chance to say anything. I watche
him until his sky blue scrubs were just
small speck down the corridor.
I shoved my tray aside and laid m
head on my arms, taking a deep breath.
wished that my life recorded itself like DVR. The rewind button looked rea
good right now.
If only I had chucked the hair.
If only I hadn’t run my fingers througt in the first place.
If only I could stop Leslie’s word
from repeating in my mind.
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If only I hadn’t mentioned golf.
The list went on and on. The rewin
button would have been busy.
I sighed and dug through my bagfinding my diary.
November 15
Dear Diary,
Worst non-date ever!
What did I get myself into? I have n
dea what I’m thinking! Sure, Damiaulled me in with his amazing eyes, an
well, let’s face it—he’s gorgeous! Bu
he’s carrying around more Dixie cup
han the medication cart.Oh, and he’s so not my type. Agh
Well, I guess I don’t have a type. All
know is that I never dreamed I’d have
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crush on a guy who smokes, apparently
hates his father, has been arrested, an
ord knows what else. I think I’ve los
my mind. It’s the only explanation.Unless…hmm. I never thought o
hat. Do I see him as my charity case
Someone I can fix? I don’t know. At th
same time, he held the garbage ca
while I hurled in it, for crying out loud
What teenage guy does that? I must b
crazy. I do like the fact that he’s not afrai
o challenge me. He doesn’t treat m
ike I’m going to break. Or like I hav
cancer. I feel almost normal arounhim.
He knows my hair is falling out, an
he didn’t make a big deal of it. H
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knows who I am—the cancer patient—
and still talks to me. I care about wha
he thinks and how he sees me. What
might mean to him. I wonder what he’doing now. If he’s thinking about me. I
he worries about me.
This makes no sense. I’ve never bee
more confused in my life!
~*~ Going bald in the winter was nice
han in the summer. I could usually fin
cute hats that went well with my outfitsand I was thankful that the administratio
at school made an exception for me t
wear them to class. It cut down on th
stares and sorry looks I got from m
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classmates. Generally, I took it off fo
reatments, since I didn’t feel awkwar
on the cancer ward. In fact, it might b
about the only place I felt somewhanormal.
My hair had thinned so much I wa
beginning to look like Gollum. I kept m
black hat on at the hospital becaus
Damian said he’d be there. Leslie didn
say much as she hooked the IV into th
ube sticking out from my chest. I tappemy fingers on my diary and watched th
clock. At four-thirty it crossed my min
hat maybe he forgot or something.
At four thirty-five, I had given up ohim, and at four thirty-eight, Damia
wisted the knob and let himself in.
“Nice hat. I like the little, uh, flowe
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hing.” He pointed at my head.
I laughed at his odd hand gestures
Seeing him standing in the doorwa
ifted my spirits.“Can you leave this room?” he asked
peered around him and noticed th
black bag he held behind his back.
I looked at him sideways. “Yeah. Bu
he pole has to come with us.”
“Eh. I suppose, if it must.” Damia
held out his hand to me. Reluctantly ook it, and Damian helped me to my fee
before letting go.
“Where are we going?”
Damian held the door open. “One ohe empty rooms.”
I stared at him for a few seconds
biting the inside of my cheek. He had
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quirky smile across his face, and hi
eyes danced as they stared at me.
“Oh, come on.” Damian reached ou
and grabbed my hand again, tugging mforward. An odd-looking carava
walked down the hall: Damian pullin
me and me dragging the IV pole. I wasn
hinking about where we were going o
about the bag slung over his shoulder.
ust enjoyed the feel of my hand in his
ever before had a guy who wasnrelated to me or treating me held m
hand. Damian didn’t hesitate as if I wer
contagious. He just reached out and too
t, and didn’t let go.We rushed past the nurses’ station.
felt three pairs of eyes follow us—
ncluding Leslie’s. Damian didn’t see
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o notice. We rounded the next hallwa
and swept into the second room on th
right. Damian let go of my hand to clos
he door behind us, and I wanted thwarmth of his touch back.
“What are we doing?” I asked a
Damian took my hand again.
Oh, good!
“In here.” He led me into th
bathroom and locked the door. “Sit.”
“On the toilet?” I looked down“There isn’t a seat.”
“That or the floor.” Damian put hi
bag on the counter and unzipped it.
“Are you going to tell me why you’vocked us up in the bathroom?”
He grinned, facing me. “Your hair.”
I shifted my weight. “My hair? Wha
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do you mean?”
Dinner on Monday flashed throug
my mind—me staring at the strand
woven through my fingers and Damian’sympathetic eyes as he watched me. M
growing feelings for him made me eve
more self-conscious. Now my hair wa
he reason we were locked in
bathroom together. Fantastic.
“I saw how you looked at it durin
dinner the other night. It must bannoying having to lose it little by littl
ike that.” His eyes were soft. He pulle
out a pair of scissors and an electri
razor from his bag. “I thought it may beasier if you got rid of all of it in on
shot. Then no more worries.”
I had nothing to say for a few second
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as his words sunk in. He had bee
hinking about me. He’d come up with
plan. Wow.
He took a step closer. I felt his breaton my forehead. It smelled like smok
and spearmint gum. “What do you say?
he whispered.
I peered up into his beautiful eyes.
couldn’t form words to tell him how
wonderful I thought he was. How much
appreciated him thinking about me thiway. I loved his idea.
I nodded.
Damian grinned, reached down, an
slipped my black-knit hat off my headAfter running his fingers through my hai
a few times, he wiped a tear from m
cheek.
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Tingles shot up my spine, and
shivered at the touch.
He motioned for me to sit. I move
he IV pole behind the toilet and safacing the tub. I felt Damian com
hrough the strands. He cut the hair, and
watched my auburn locks fall to th
floor. Then he picked up a chunk an
handed it to me.
“Here, do you want to keep some o
t?”I took it, purposefully touching hi
fingers. “Thanks.”
I heard the clippers come to life an
felt the metal against my head. My eyeclosed, and I listened to the buzz a
Damian shaved each individual hai
from the top of my head. After a few
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swipes, he rubbed his hand over the bar
skin. He repeated this gesture until all o
my hair laid lifeless on the floor.
I spun around and peered into thmirror. Damian was putting the clipper
back into his bag. I swept my han
across the top of my head. The reflectio
ooked normal to me.
I glanced up at Damian. He had
glob of white lotion in his hand, an
began to rub his hands together.He grinned. “I wasn’t sure if I shoul
bring lotion or aftershave.”
I laughed, thankful he chose lotion
and wondered if he’d really considereaftershave. His hands moved gracefull
over my head. I cringed from the cold a
first, but his warm hands caressing m
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head soon relaxed me, and I closed m
eyes to enjoy the sensation. He rubbe
he lotion in for a few minutes. Hi
fingers moved down behind my ears, tmy shoulders, and down my arms. Hi
ips pressed against the top of my head.
swallowed. A wave of emotions washe
hrough me. My hands were settled in m
ap and his came to rest on top of mine.
didn’t know whether to move or no
Should I flip my hands over and takhold of his?
When I opened my eyes, he wa
kneeling in front of me, gazing at me
“You look beautiful.”My eyes searched his. If it weren
for the butterflies flying around m
stomach telling me otherwise, I woul
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have wondered if he was being a jerk.
He reached up and caressed the sid
of my face. With a gentle tug on my hand
he lowered me down. I slid off thunromantic porcelain throne and sat o
my knees on the floor. Damian place
both hands on either side of my face, hi
eyes locking with mine. He leaned i
closer.
Were my lips dry? Were the
supposed to be? What if I sucked at it? hadn’t brushed my teeth since tha
morning, and…
Before I had a chance to finish m
hought, Damian’s lips were presseagainst mine. I closed my eyes, ‘caus
hat’s what happened on TV, and let m
shoulders fall. More questions ra
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hrough my mind, the old ones forgotten
Was I supposed to breathe or hold m
breath? What should I do with m
hands? Should my lips stay closed oopen? Please, oh, please don’t throw
up!
I kept my hands on my lap for
moment, but as Damian’s mouth opene
and sucked my lower lip between his
my arms wrapped around his neck o
heir own. He responded by moving hihands to my shoulders and sliding the
down my arms. His lips moved ove
mine tenderly, then he folded his arm
around my waist and hugged me againshim.
When the kiss ended, I stared at him
Small shivers still raced down my spine
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and my whole body tingled. Damia
smiled. He kissed the tip of my nose, an
his fingertips trailed over the side of m
neck. My insecurity dissipated at thexpression on his face.
“I saw the way he looks at you.”
Now I could see it, too. It was th
sparkle in his eyes. The way the corne
of his mouth curved up in an impish grin
He leaned in and kissed my neck wher
his fingers had been.“You taste good,” he whispered in m
ear.
It could have been the chemo dancin
ts way through my bloodstream becaus was suddenly light-headed. Then agai
chemo didn’t typically make me fee
good.
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Damian kissed me on the neck again
and I had never felt the little pin-prick
hat covered my body before. I ached t
have him kiss me again. I wanted him tenvelop me in his arms and draw m
nto his body and keep me there forever.
“Damian isn’t as strong as you are
f he falls for you, and you don
recover, it’ll kill him.”
I couldn’t speak for Damian. An
whether or not it was a good idea didnmatter. I knew the moment he pulled ou
he clippers and looked into my eyes tha
was in danger of falling for Damia
Lowell.
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Chapter 5
November 18 Dear Diary,
He kissed me! A real kiss. One tha
eft me breathless.
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I can’t get Damian’s touch out of my
mind. I can still feel where his finger
readed over my skin, where his lip
ressed against me. I’d give anythino have them there again. I’ve bee
ying in bed for the last three hours
staring at my ceiling and picturin
amian’s Caribbean blue eyes. I don
want to get him out of my head, but
would like to fall asleep.
It felt so good to have him want mike that. I felt…normal.
I wish I didn’t feel like this, though
We’re different in so many ways. I hat
hat I love being swept up in him. I hathow much I want to be with him. I’m
opening myself up to get hurt.
He’s not good for me, I know tha
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ut I also can’t stay away from him
aybe if I wasn’t sick, then…
On the flip side, he’s giving m
another reason to fight this as hard ascan. Is that what I want, though
Someone else to disappoint?
My parents are counting on me, too
don’t want to let them down.
~*~ This time I really did forget m
gloves at the hospital. Technically, I ha
another pair that I could wear, buretrieving my favorite ones gave me
great excuse to see Damian again.
didn’t think I could wait until Monday
anyway. His face filled my dreams, and
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woke up once in the middle of the nigh
kissing my pillow…okay, twice…
I half-ran inside and took the elevato
o the third floor, a giant smile plastereacross my face. Would he be happy t
see me? Would he kiss me again
Probably not in front of everyone
Maybe he’d walk me back to my car an
kiss me there? It didn’t matter; I jus
wanted to see him again. I hoped h
wouldn’t be too weirded out, it not beina treatment day and all.
The elevator ride to the third floo
ook forever. When the metal door
finally opened, I got out and walked the nurses’ station.
No one was there. I checked th
chemo room, hoping to find Leslie. I
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was empty, too. I walked the length o
he hall and found no one. All of th
doors to the rooms were closed; the
were usually open with the sounds oelevisions and family members waftin
nto the hallway.
I opened the door to the Commons
Two young boys were playing Mari
art on the Wii, and a little gir
receiving her chemo treatment, wa
sitting on the sofa reading a book. Shwore a pink infant headband on her bal
head.
She looked up. “Hi.”
“Where is everyone?” I asked.She shrugged. “Leslie just told me t
stay in here. She said she’d be back in
ittle while.”
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“Oh. When was that?”
“I don’t know, ten minutes ago? Dr
Lowell is in his office yelling at his son
hough, so all the nurses are probablistening in. You know how they are.”
My heart sank. “Thanks,” I murmured
I twirled around and rushed down th
corridor to Dr. Lowell’s office. As
rounded the corner, I saw Leslie
Tammy, and two other nurses attemptin
o look busy in the same spot. Leslinoticed me first and shook her head.
glanced away and stared at the cracked
open office door.
“What the hell do you care? You’rnever around, anyway.” Damian’s voic
boomed down the hall.
“I’m doing the best I can. You’re no
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making this any easier. At least I’m
rying,” Dr. Lowell yelled back, thoug
not as loudly.
“You call working sixteen hours day trying ? Bullshit, Dad.”
“I asked you to be here with me.”
“No. You want me here to fuckin
baby-sit me.”
“What else am I supposed to do
Damian? You got yourself kicked ou
school, I’ve bailed you out of jail twiceou show up here drunk, and now you’r
skipping your therapy sessions. I can
rust you.”
“I’m such a goddamn disappointmeno you, aren’t I? If only Liam were her
nstead.”
Thick silence filtered down th
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corridor.
“I didn’t say that.” Dr. Lowell’
voice was quiet.
Damian jerked the door open. All ohe nurses twirled their heads i
different directions. My eyes staye
ransfixed on Damian.
“No, Dad, you don’t have to say it
You make it perfectly clear.”
Damian spun on his heel an
slammed the office door closed. Hstarted walking down the hall—no wa
he wouldn’t see me. He paused slightly
his eyes set on mine. His expression wa
hard and unreadable.I opened my mouth to speak, but h
pushed forward, swept past me, an
swore under his breath. Leslie came u
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behind me as I watched him disappea
down the hall.
“What happened?” I asked, stil
staring at Damian’s wake.Leslie shook her head. “It’s not th
first time. Before you, Damian showe
up drunk every other day or so.”
“That’s what this was about?” I face
her.
She sighed. “It was about a lot o
hings.”“Thanks, Leslie,” I said and starte
ogging after him, I’m not sure why. I
wasn’t as if I could do anything about th
situation.The look in his eye as he’d passed m
n the hallway scared me. The voice tha
had spoken so softly to me turned crue
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and edgy as he yelled at his father. I’
never dream of speaking to my parent
hat way.
I checked the cafeteria first. Hwasn’t there. I wandered around the firs
floor, poking my head into each of th
waiting rooms. It was a large hospita
crowded with visitors and full o
patients. Damian reeked of alcohol an
probably wanted some place where h
could be alone. I knew the third floowell, but the rest of the place was like
rat maze. After an hour of searching,
gave up. He obviously didn’t want to b
found.I slipped on my hat and walked ou
nto the cold November afternoon. It ha
begun to flurry, and the wind stung m
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cheeks. I shoved my bare hands into m
coat pockets and stared down at my fee
as I walked to my car.
It was a long trek to the back of thparking lot, the only place I could find
spot. My mind wandered, thinking abou
he Damian I saw today, drunk an
screaming. I touched my lips an
remembered the warmth of his kiss. Th
guy who had taken so much care cuttin
my hair, kissing my bare head, caressinme, couldn’t be the same one I saw
oday.
“Hey.”
I jerked my head up. Damian stooeaning against my car, smoking. H
ooked different, not wearing scrubs. Hi
black Columbia coat and faded blu
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eans fit him much better than hi
hospital get-up. I swallowed as I mad
eye contact. Did he look sad or were hi
pupils that dilated?“I was looking for you,” I said. “I
here.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere nea
here.” He stared off in the direction o
he hospital and threw his cigarette o
he ground.
“Yeah, I can