She reached for the box of tissues on the end table and blew her nose. Shit. She was sick
and
she was crying. The world really was going to come to an end. Everything was wrong, off-kilter, screwed up. Her hand balled into a fist and pure anger drove it into the couch cushion several times.
“What the fuck?” Her words filled the empty room with venom, despair. “What the fuck!”
She didn’t smoke, didn’t eat that much junk food, limited her alcohol to wine night with the girls and an occasional beer or two on weekends when Robbie was home. Sure, she sort of sucked at exercising regularly, but she wasn’t a total couch potato. The doctor had suggested she check into her family’s medical history to see if cancer was common, but what good would that do her? She already had the fucking disease.
Disease.
Zoey tried to catch her breath, but her lungs wouldn’t capture the air. There was a two-ton weight on her chest, threatening to crush her. The flood of tears wouldn’t stop. Soon she was too tired to even try to get a grip on her emotions.
Control was pointless. She gave in. Lying on the couch, she let the tears stream until exhaustion finally won and she slept.
Rob unlocked the door to the townhouse he’d shared with Zoey for a decade and a half. His band mates gave him shit about living with a gorgeous woman and not sleeping with her, but he wasn’t about to screw things up with his best friend. Zoey was more than an opportunity for sex. She was…everything to him.
As soon as he entered the house, he took a deep breath and sighed. He was home. A grin crossed his lips as he tried to determine the scent. Zoey was a candle addict, burning them constantly. This month’s flavor smelled like cinnamon. She often paired her scents with the time of the year—pumpkin spice in the fall, balsam and cedar over the holidays, beachy smells in the summer. He grumbled whenever she lit one, claiming he felt like he was living in a chick’s place. Truth was he liked the candles. They were one more thing that made their house feel like a home.
He glanced at the clock in the hallway. It was three a.m. Rob hadn’t been able to concentrate during tonight’s show, Zoey’s unusual phone call tugging on his conscience. As soon as the band walked off the stage, Rob got a taxi straight to the airport and hopped on the first flight home. Luckily he’d only been a state away. The up-and-down flight got him here in good time.
Chip, Express Train’s drummer, had gone ballistic when he’d said he was leaving, but he couldn’t ignore the voice that told him something was seriously wrong. He assured the guys he only needed to make sure Zoey was okay and that he’d meet them at the next venue in two days.
Mercifully the tour was winding down. Rob was sick of buses, the road, takeout food and all the crazy after-parties. More than a few times he’d recalled the saying
Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.
He’d wanted to be a musician since the day he turned thirteen and got his first guitar, but now that Express Train was on the cusp of something big, he was second guessing that choice. Life on the road sucked.
There was a light on in the living room, so Rob passed the stairs and walked toward it. It was way too late for Zoey to still be awake, but it was unlike her to leave a light on. She was the queen of energy conservation.
He saw her the second he entered the room. She was fully dressed and sound asleep on the couch. She was surrounded by tissues. Fuck. He’d been right to come home. Zoey didn’t cry, but her puffy eyes betrayed she’d been doing quite a lot of that tonight.
His first thought was perhaps she’d suffered a broken heart, but she wasn’t dating anyone. Hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in over a year, ever since she finally made a clean break from Drake the Prick. Jesus, he hoped that abusive asshole hadn’t made his way back. Last time Zoey had seen her ex-boyfriend, Drake had given her a black eye. Rob had repaid the favor, only instead of one black eye, he’d left Drake with two, as well as a broken nose and four loose teeth. If Drake had come back—
Then Rob’s breath caught as he considered something even worse. Her parents weren’t exactly old—both of them only in their mid-sixties—but if something had happened to one of them, Zoey would be desolate, devastated. Her dad had been diagnosed with high blood pressure recently and Rob recalled Zoey worrying that her old man would die of a heart attack like her grandfather had. But why wouldn’t she have told him that on the phone?
He walked over and knelt in front of her. Her face was pale.
“Zoey,” he whispered, gently pushing her dark brown hair away from her eyes. He didn’t like seeing her so tired, so frail-looking. A surge of protectiveness rose up inside him. “Zoey. Wake up, baby. I’m home.” God. He must be tired. Where had that term of endearment come from?
Her eyelids lifted slowly. “Robbie?”
He grinned. She was the only person on the planet who still called him by his childhood nickname. The second he hit high school, he’d instructed his teachers and friends to call him Rob. Zoey was the only one who couldn’t make the switch. She’d told him he would always be Robbie to her. He liked the idea, so he didn’t pick a fight about it.
She sat up slowly. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged, then claimed the warm spot next to her on the couch. “I was worried about you.” He gestured to the tissues scattered on the floor and coffee table. “What happened?”
Her response was worse than words. She quite simply fell apart.
Rob reached for her, pulling her into his arms as she cried. “Shhh. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay. We’ll fix it.”
His words, rather than comfort her, seemed to open the floodgate even more. She clung to his shirt, loud sobs wracking her small frame. He held her tighter, each cry slashing through him more sharply than a machete. Twenty-five years of friendship and he could count on one hand the number of times she’d cried in front of him. His heart raced as his mind whirled over what could have happened. Jesus. Whatever it was, it was bad. Really fucking bad.
He tightened his arms around her, desperate for a way to calm her. “You’re killing me, baby. Please. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
She shook her head against his chest.
He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Say it, Zoey. Fast. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”
“If I say it out loud, then it’s true.”
He wiped the tears away from her cheeks. “It’s true one way or the other. Tell me and we’ll take care of it together.”
“I have cancer.”
His mind had raced over a hundred possibilities since Zoey collapsed in his arms. That one had never come to him. “I don’t understand.”
Stupid words. He knew what she’d said, but Zoey was young, healthy. It didn’t make any sense.
“I had a mammogram. They found a lump.”
Hope reared its head. “That doesn’t mean it’s cancer. Lots of women find—”
“They did a biopsy. It’s cancer.”
Rob struggled to take a breath and fought down a wave of nausea. It felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He had a new appreciation for the concept of his life passing before his eyes, as images of the past twenty-plus years whirled through his mind. “When did you find out?”
“I’ve known about the lump for a few days. I got the biopsy results today.”
She’d been dealing with this for days? Rob was horrified that she’d already done so much alone. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did.”
“Jesus, Zoey. You called me after the fact and even then, you just told me to break a leg.”
She rubbed her eyes wearily. They were swollen and red from crying. Rob hated seeing her so upset.
“I called you as soon as I knew something for sure. But when I heard your voice…” She rested her head against the back of the couch. She was exhausted. “I couldn’t ruin your chance. You’re finally there, Robbie. On stage in front of huge audiences. All your hard work has paid off. It’s your time.”
He didn’t want any of that. As he looked at Zoey, the priorities he’d always set for himself fell away, leaving just one. One thing that mattered to him.
Her.
She was right. It was his time. But not in the way she thought. For years, he’d avoided the truth, ignored feelings that had always existed as he chased the spotlight. He’d been a fool.
“Did you call your parents?”
She shook her head. “They’re in Florida. I thought about calling them, but I—” she licked her lips, “—I just wanted you.”
Tears accompanied her admission. He pulled her into his arms again. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
She sniffled and he suspected she was fighting hard not to fall apart again. “But the band—”
“Can do without me. There are only three more scheduled concerts. I’ll get Jeff to fill in for me on lead guitar. He’ll flip at the chance. After that, we’re finished for a while. I was going to come home and write some new music.”
“If it’s only three more shows, you should go do them.”
“No. I’m home. I’m not going anywhere until you’re better.”
“That could be awhile.”
His jaw tensed at the thought of what she was facing. “I’m staying.”
She wiped her face as more tears fell. “God, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry anymore after tonight. I fucking hate feeling like this.”
He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s still tonight. Get all the tears out now because tomorrow we’re going on a positive thoughts diet. Both of us.”
She released a light laugh that turned to a choked sob. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You can. You will. You’re young, strong. We’re going to get through this, I promise. We’ll do it together.”
She clung to him, neither of them speaking anymore. What was left to say? Her tears were quieter now, but he knew she still shed them even though he couldn’t see the face she’d buried against his chest. The only noise in the room was her quiet sniffles, but soon that sound was replaced by her soft, even breathing. She’d finally fallen asleep.
It was only then that Rob allowed his own tears to fall.
Chapter Two
Twenty-one years earlier
“Hey Robbie, wait up. What’s wrong?”
Rob should have known Zoey would follow him home from school. He’d skipped stopping by his locker, which meant he didn’t have his math book and couldn’t do his homework, but he didn’t care. He was trying to get out of the building without having to talk to any of the shitheads from lunch. Somehow they’d gotten onto the topic of girls today. When it came out that he’d never kissed a girl, the other guys started teasing him, calling him Virgin. The razzing lasted all through lunch and right into last block. Fuck them.
“Nothing, Zoey. I’m just going home.”
When Zoey caught up to him, her cheeks were flushed and she was winded. Obviously she’d run quite a distance to catch up. “Did you forget something?”
He paused and looked at her. He’d forgotten everything—his homework, his coat, his empty lunchbox. His mother was going to rake him over the coals for all of it. Instead, he said, “No.”
“You forgot me, you idiot. We always walk home together.”
He knew that…and so did the guys. They’d actually said they thought he and Zoey were doing it. Doing it! Shit, they’d only turned fourteen last summer. Besides, Zoey wasn’t that kind of girl. She was his friend. He’d sprinted out of school, hoping to avoid her, because now that the guys had planted the seed, he was sort of thinking about her differently.
“I wanted to be alone.” His tone was sharp, meaner than he intended.
“Oh. Why?”
If he hadn’t been so pissed off, he would have laughed. Zoey had no boundaries, never took hints. “I had a really crappy day and I wanted to walk it off.”
“Can’t you walk it off with me?”
He gestured to her striding along next to him. “Guess I’m going to have to,” he grumbled.
Again, she took no offense. “What happened that was so bad?”
He knew it. Knew she’d keep going. Ask the questions he’d hoped to avoid. If he’d made it home quicker, without her, he could have gotten his act together and she’d have been none the wiser. No such luck. “Nothing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. Seriously. Tell me.”
He stopped and looked around. They were passing the park that lay at the edge of their neighborhood. Huge pine trees lined the sidewalk. He grabbed her hand and dragged her beneath the shelter of the large limbs and drooping pine needles. They’d played under these trees for years, calling it their own private Terabithia, but they’d outgrown the pines this past summer, opting instead to hang out at McDonald’s with the other kids.
“Have you ever kissed a guy?”
She frowned, her forehead creasing. “Of course not.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“What do I want to kiss a guy for? Besides, have you looked around at the boys in school? My choices are kind of limited. I mean I could go for Dave, the nose-picker, or Chris, the fart machine. Ick.”
“The guys at lunch thought I’d kissed you. That you and me, that we…”
“We what?”
“That we’re doing it.”
Her face registered complete shock. Rob couldn’t decide if he should laugh or be insulted.