For the Win (Playing for Keeps Book 1) (17 page)

“Yes, I do.” I touched her cheek, my fingers sweeping over her smooth skin. “Have you been writing much on your laptop?”

She shook her head. “I want to. I’m just having trouble coming up with ideas.”

“See. Maybe the class will help you.” A car drove down the street, its engine upsetting the silence of the neighborhood.

“Yeah. Maybe.” She nodded, but there was doubt in her eyes.

“What’s stopping you?”

She hesitated, taking a breath. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

“I’ve only been in remission a few weeks. I guess I want to make sure it’s going to stick, you know? I’m afraid if I commit to something I’ll get sick again and have to drop out.”

“None of us knows what tomorrow will bring, but we can’t live our life in fear.” I ran my fingertips up her cheek. “Remember that day in the snow? How much fun we had?”

She smiled, nodding.

“That’s how every day should be.”

“Are you saying that you’re going to take me to the snow every day?” She teased.

“I wish.” I chuckled. “No, I’m saying that you need to approach life that way, and enjoy every minute.”

“I know I enjoy every minute with you,” she said.

“Me too.” Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to her forehead, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent. And I silently prayed London would have an endless amount of minutes left on this earth.

London

I knew it was too good to be true.

The past two months since I’d gone into remission were full of promise, hope and possibilities. But deep down, I’d had my doubts. Deep down, I worried that it wouldn’t last forever. And that worry grew as it neared the time for my checkup and biopsy. The minute I saw my doctor’s face when we showed up for my appointment today, I knew. He didn’t even have to say the words. The results weren’t good.

Dad was putting up a good front, but I could tell it was tearing him apart, which was why I didn’t want to tell anyone else. Everyone had been so happy, and I hated to take that away from them. So when Skyler bounded outside the second we returned home from the appointment, I lied and told her it went well. And when Cooper texted, I told him the same thing.

Eventually I’d have to be honest, but I couldn’t do it today. Give them some more time of ignorant bliss. I wished I could have it. But since I couldn’t, I’d opt to escape in a different way. After talking to Skyler, I hid in my room with my latest novel. Curling up on my bed, I opened the pages and allowed myself to escape inside. Allowed my imagination to pull me into a world where there was no cancer, no illness, and no treatments.

“Hey.” A voice startled me, yanking me from my fictional world. My door shoved open a little, and Cooper’s head poked in.

“Hey.” I was surprised to see him here. The spring season had started and he should have been at practice right now. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s great to see you too.” He walked to my bed and leaned down to kiss my forehead.

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just that I thought you had practice.” I set the book down on my bed.

“I’m going there after this.”

My eyes flickered over to the clock. “Aren’t you going to be late?”

“It’ll be fine.” He lowered down beside me. Reaching out, he played with my fingers, stroking them gently. It felt good, and I longed for him to stay all afternoon and keep doing that. In fact, I could think of a lot of things I’d like to do with him. Perhaps if we did, I could get my mind off of the cancer for a little bit. But I couldn’t let him miss practice.

“Coop, you have to go.”

He threaded his fingers through mine. “I don’t like leaving you.”

“And I don’t like when you leave.”

“Then we’re in agreement.” He smiled.

“No, we’re not,” I said firmly. “You have to go to practice.”

His gaze lowered, his eyes not meeting mine.
What was going on?

“Coop?”

“A scout from Fallbrook University came to see me. He offered me a position on the team, and a scholarship.”

I fought against the pang of regret. Truly I was happy for him, but I couldn’t help feeling sad for me. I had no idea what I’d do without him here. But this was inevitable. He was a senior. And not just any senior. He was the freaking star pitcher of the varsity baseball team and a 4.0 student. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

“I don’t think I can take it.”

My stomach tumbled to the ground. “Why not?”

His eyes slammed into mine. “I can’t leave you, London.”

“Yes, you can,” I said. “And you have to. This is your future we’re talking about.”

“But I don’t want to leave you.” Dropping my hands, he stood. Running a hand through his hair, he grunted in frustration.

I couldn’t let him throw away his future for me. This was what he’d worked so hard his entire life for. “I’m going to be fine. And lots of people have long-distance relationships. We’ll make it work.”

He swung around, his expression hard. “Don’t do that. You know this isn’t about us making a long-distance relationship work. And don’t say you’re going to be fine. Your dad told me what the oncologist said today.”

So that’s what this was about.
My stomach clenched. Now it was my turn to look away.

“London?” His thumb tucked under my chin. “Why didn’t you tell me? You promised to be honest.”

I stared out the window. The branches from the tree outside my window swayed, a blue bird flying past. What I wouldn’t give to be that bird. To soar across the sky, untethered to the earth.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t always completely honest with him
. In my defense, it was not an outright lie, just a lie of omission. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I get to choose whether or not to worry, okay? Don’t keep information from me anymore.” His tone was so firm it shocked me, and for some reason it sparked anger deep in my gut. It bubbled inside of me, my insides feeling as if they might explode like shaken soda.

“Okay. The cancer’s back.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sick again. It’s worse than before and I might not make it this time. Is that what you want to hear?”

He fell to his knees next to me, grabbing my arm. “No, God, no. That’s not what I want to hear at all.”

Frustrated, I said, “Then what do you want from me? First you’re mad because I don’t tell you what the oncologist said, and now you’re mad when I say it.”

He dropped his head onto my arm. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just so scared.” His lips trailed my skin, his breath hot on my flesh. When he peered up at me, his face was ravaged with pain. “The thing is…that I think…no, I know.” He paused. “I love you, London.”

I sucked in a breath. He’d never said that to me before. In fact, no boy ever had. But I didn’t have to think about it. I knew exactly how I felt about him. “I love you too, Coop.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to be lost,” I whispered.

Lifting up on his knees, Cooper’s hand slid up my neck. His lips brushed over mine, gently, softly. He took his time, rubbing his lips over mine, caressing every inch of my lips from the outer edges to the center. It was as if he was memorizing every ridge and nuance. His fingers trailed over the skin of my neck tickling the tender flesh. When his tongue slipped into my mouth I was ready for it. I tangled mine with his, creating a sensual dance. His lips sucked on mine, as his tongue swirled over my teeth and the roof of my mouth. It was as if he couldn’t get enough. As if he wanted to feel and taste every detail. When we disconnected, I felt heady.

“You won’t be lost,” he said, framing my face with his hands. “I will always find you. I promise.”

I nodded, knowing he was serious. The problem was I didn’t understand what it meant. The simple act of loving me wasn’t enough to heal my body, was it? It worked in my novels, but I didn’t think it worked in real life. And as much as Cooper wanted me to live, I wasn’t sure it was up to him. When my body was ready to shut down, there wasn’t anything we could do to stop it. If the doctors couldn’t stop the disease from progressing, what hope did the rest of us have?

On Saturday Cooper didn’t have practice or pitching lessons, so we had all day together. Fortunately I was feeling a little better today too. Dad was out running errands. He acted like it was a spontaneous decision, but I knew he only went because Cooper was over. He rarely left my side these days. It was actually nice to not have him breathing down my neck. Not that I was complaining exactly. I knew he meant well, but sometimes it was a little overwhelming.

The air was cooling down, and it blew in through the open window, skating over my skin. I wore a pair of gym shorts, one of Cooper’s Tigers’ hats, and a jersey he loaned me. He kept telling me I looked sexy. I never tired of hearing him saying that.

“I’ve realized something.” I threaded my fingers through Cooper’s, sliding my thumb along his palm. “I don’t have a bucket list.”

“London.” Cooper groaned, his grip on my hand tightening.

“No, hear me out.” I knew he didn’t like to talk about the possibility that I might die, but it was something I had to talk about. It was something I had to face. “I’ve read a lot of novels about people with cancer.” I felt Cooper stiffen behind me, his chest hard against my back. “And all those books had this message about living your life to the fullest, and making the most of every moment. I haven’t really done that. Most of my life I’ve hidden from the world.” Releasing Cooper’s hand, I turned to face him, sitting on my knees. “I don’t want to live my life in fear anymore. I want to really live, you know?”

Cooper nodded, a pained expression on his face. His hand came up to touch my chin. “You’re going to have plenty of time to live.”

My stomach dropped. “We don’t know that.”

His hand slid up, his palm curving around my face. “Yes, we do. You’re going to live. You have to.”

I bit my lip, my mind replaying the doctor’s words over and over in my mind. My head lowered to stare at the hands in my lap.

“Hey.” Cooper tenderly forced my face up to look at him. “No negative thoughts, okay?”

Nodding, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded up piece of binder paper. My fingers trembled as I unfolded it. The paper quivered in my hand.

“What’s that?” Cooper raised a brow. His expression was a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

I took a deep breath, holding it out to him. “It’s my bucket list.”

He reeled back from it like it was a poisonous snake.

“Take it,” I urged. “I want you to help me with it.”

Hesitantly, he reached forward, his fingers closing around it. Leaning back, he scanned it. Then he sat forward and calmly ripped it to shreds. After throwing it on the ground, he stood. “No. We’re not doing this,” he ground out the words angrily.

Shocked, I found it difficult to draw breath. I stared at the remnants of my list, at the tattered chunks of paper littering the ground.
What the hell was wrong with him?
When I glanced back up, I saw that he was no longer in my room. Heart pounding, I slid off my bed and padded down the hallway. Cooper was flinging open the front door, sunlight spilling inside.

“Are you leaving?”

Without turning around, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Taking a step forward, he slammed the door closed.

I flinched at the sound. Hugging myself, I stood in the hallway listening to the engine roar on his car as he turned it on. Slowly, I walked to the window and watched as he drove away. What did he mean when he said he couldn’t do this? As I stared into the front yard, my gaze landed on my flowers. The ones I had planted a couple months ago. I had been so inward focused lately that I’d forgotten to water them. Now they were dying, their petals crunchy and brown, their stems bent toward the ground. They looked so sad and weepy, and for some reason the sight of this caused extreme sadness to blanket me.

My bottom lip began to shake, and a tear slid down my cheek. I wiped it away swiftly, but as soon as it was gone, another came, and then another. My knees softened, and I dropped into the nearest chair. I was like those flowers. Pretty soon my body would give out on me. I would no longer be vibrant and alive as I once was. And when that happened those around me would have to watch me shrivel and wither away.

I didn’t blame Cooper for having second thoughts. It was too much of me to ask him to walk this journey with me. And I never should’ve sprung that list on him. What eighteen-year-old boy wants to spend their last summer before college caring for a dying girl? It was selfish of me. If I really loved Cooper, I’d let him go. I’d allow him to enjoy his last days of his senior year, to prepare for his first year of college. I was done being selfish. If there was ever a time to grow up, it was now. It may have been the only time I had left.

Cooper

I drove aimlessly around town. There was no destination in mind, but I needed to clear my mind. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, my stomach in knots. There was nothing I could do to make this sick feeling in my stomach go away. No way to stop hurting, to stop being angry. I felt like an ass for leaving London the way I did earlier. Ripping up her bucket list and running away was the wrong thing to do. I even knew it at the time. Still, I couldn’t stop myself.

When I read that damn list, anger burned through me. Why did it have to be London?
Why her, goddammit?
She’s the first person I’d given my heart to. The first person I’d allowed in, other than my grandparents, since my parents died. And I couldn’t lose her.

God and I had never really been on speaking terms, but lately I’d found myself talking to him a lot. Begging him is more like it. Desperate pleas tumbled from my lips night and day. I’d even tried bargaining with him, offering to trade things for London’s life. At this point I’d give up anything for her.

Pulling over, I exhaled and rested my head on the glass window. The sky above me was blue, sunshine spraying it. It seemed wrong that it could be so bright and cheery outside when it was dark and gloomy inside my heart. I was upset with myself for my behavior. My job wasn’t to unload on London. She counted on me to be her comic relief, the one person she could feel relaxed around. She’d told me so herself. With her dad she often felt she had to walk on eggshells. That she had to be brave and strong for him. I had worked so hard to make sure she didn’t have to be like that for me. But clearly I hadn’t done that great of a job, especially if she had been keeping things from me.

And now I’d made everything worse by flying off the damn handle. God, I was such an ass.

The radio was on low, but the song playing was one I recognized. It was an older song, one my grandpa liked. I couldn’t sit here and feel sorry for myself all day, but I wasn’t quite ready to face London. Not until I got my head on straight. When I returned to her I needed to assure her that she could lean on me. That she could unload on me, and that I would be man enough to take it. I wasn’t sure I was there yet.

But I knew who could help me get there.

Determined, I sat up straight and maneuvered my vehicle back onto the street. It was only a few blocks to my house, so I got there within minutes. Grandpa was outside tending to the yard as I had suspected he would be. When I got out of the car, I shoved the keys into the pocket of my jeans and trudged in his direction.

He turned to me with a smile, but it quickly faded as he took in my face. “Cooper, you okay?”

In that moment it was like everything came crashing down. London’s illness, her dire prognosis, her loss of hair and weight, the possibility that she might not make it. The stark reality that I could lose yet another person I love. All of it bore down on me until I could barely stand under the weight of it all. Slumping forward, I crumpled against my grandpa. His arms came around me, holding me firmly.

I wasn’t the type of guy who cried. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I did. It may have been when my parents passed away. Even when I broke my leg riding my bike I didn’t cry. Sure I wanted to. I remembered pinching my eyes closed as tightly as possible, holding the tears inside. And when my lips quivered, I bit down on them. I was no sissy, I could tell you that.

But today I didn’t want to bite down on my lip. I didn’t want to keep the tears inside. I wanted to cry, damn it. I was tired of holding it in. It was time to release it, to let it out. If not, it would kill me.

So in Grandpa’s arms I did just that. I allowed the tears to flow. And I held on to him, tighter than I ever had before. I clutched onto him as if my life depended on it. As if I was drowning in the sea and he was the raft sent to rescue me. And maybe that’s what he was. I did feel like I was drowning, like the current was sucking me under and there was no one to yank me out. The fear and anger that consumed me was something I hadn’t shared with anyone. It’s not like I could tell London, so I’d kept it to myself, hidden deep in my heart. But in doing so, I’d made things worse. The waves were swelling, tossing me all around, and I’d done nothing to calm them. If anything, I’d provoked them.

I had no idea how long we stood there in the middle of the front yard, my tears wetting Grandpa’s shirt, his arms securely fastened around me. I was sure it appeared odd to the cars who drove past. Normally that kind of thing would concern me, but not today. Today it seemed petty, shallow, and insignificant.

By the time I finished, my throat was raw and scratchy, my eyes burning. Drawing back from Grandpa, I wiped my nose and face with my hands. Some of my tears had dried, and now my skin was sticky to the touch.

“I need to get back to London’s.” I sniffed.

Grandpa nodded. Then he reached out and gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, as I stepped away from him.

“I’m always here for you. You know that.”

And I did. His arms had been the same ones that held me after my parents had died. He’d lost his son, and yet he was able to comfort me, to be strong for me. Now I would do the same for London. I’d be strong even when I felt weak. And if I needed to unload, I’d come home.

To the people who had carried my burdens since I was a little boy.

And no matter, what I wouldn’t allow London to give up. Instead I would stand by her side, and help her fight.

The shift in her behavior was apparent the minute she opened the door. In the hours since I’d last been here, she’d shut down on me. I could see it in her eyes. It was clear even in her stance, the way she stood with her arms crossed. It killed me. Not to mention the fact that she’d ditched my hat. It could’ve been that she got tired of wearing it, but it felt calculated. It felt personal.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around her. She fell against me, but kept her arms pinned at her sides. “I got scared, but it won’t happen again.”

Bringing up her arms, she splayed her palms on my chest and pushed me back. Panic bloomed inside of me like a flower opening up. “No, you were right to get scared. And you were right to walk away. This is scary, and it’s not your problem. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I get it.”

The panic grew, unfurling. “You’re right. It’s not my problem.” I took a step toward her. “You’re not a
problem
at all, London. You’re the girl I love, and I’m not walking away from you. Not now. Not ever.”

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. “But you should. You should walk away and never look back.”

“I can’t.” Reaching up, I grazed her cheek with my knuckles.

“But you need to.” Her lips quivered. “You were right to get mad earlier. I never should’ve given you that list. I’m asking too much.”

“No,” I spoke firmly. “You’re not. I was an ass earlier, okay? I guess I thought if I ripped up the list, if we never did the things on it, then you would live forever.” Feeling like an idiot, I blew out a breath. “I know it’s irrational, but I need to believe that you’re going to make it.”

She moved away from me. “That’s just it, Coop. I may not make it. I might die. In fact, at this point it’s looking very likely that I will die from this disease. Don’t you get that?”

“Don’t say that.” I lunged forward, framing her face with my hands. “Don’t ever say that.”

She sighed. “It’s the truth.”

“No, it’s not.” Leaning forward, I clamped my mouth over hers, my tongue slipping into her mouth. All the pent up fear and desperation poured out of me with every push and pull, every caress and touch. I half expected her to push me away, but she didn’t. Better yet, she responded to me, her lips moving, her tongue sliding over mine. Moving her arms up, her hands skated along my waist, resting at my hips. When our lips detached, I dropped my forehead to hers. “I win, London. It’s what I do. And we’re going to fight until we win.” Lifting my head, my eyes met hers. “We’re going to beat this. Together.”

Her head bobbed up and down slowly. Hope sprouted inside her wide eyes. It was nothing but a tiny seed, but it was there. I could detect it in her irises. There was a spark that wasn’t present earlier. And that was enough for me. As long as she still had some fight left within her, then it wasn’t hopeless.

I nudged her. “Let’s grab a piece of paper and we’ll make out another list, okay?” Leaning down, I stole a kiss on her cheek. “And I’ll help you check off every item on it.”

“It was a dumb idea anyway.” Lowering down onto the couch, she shook her head. “I can’t change the past. It’s too late for that. If I wanted to live my life I should’ve done it earlier. Instead, I’ve spent all these years hiding and covering up, never taking a risk and being completely guided by fear.”

I sat next to her, snatching up her hand and knotting our fingers together. “What are you scared of?”

“Death. It’s the same thing I’ve always been scared of.” Her gaze traveled across the room, landing on the picture of her mom. “I never worried about getting sick before now though. That was never a fear of mine. The thing I’ve always been afraid of is dying the way my mom did.”

“How did she die?” I asked tenderly, stroking her fingers.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I was five. It was a Saturday, and Dad had taken me with him to the store. I remember being so excited because he let me pick out my favorite cereal. It was Lucky Charms, and Mom never let me get them. I was glad that she wasn’t with us.” Opening her eyes, guilt painted her expression. “When we got home, Dad was opening up the trunk to get the groceries out. He told me to go inside to get Mom so she could help us bring them inside. I remember that her gardening tools were out, lying in the grass. It was weird because Mom was always good about putting them away. When I got to the front door it was slightly ajar. That was odd too, but at five years old I didn’t really think much about it. Instead, I walked inside. And that’s when I saw her. Her shirt was torn, her pants down around her ankles, and there was blood everywhere. But the thing I’ve never been able to get out of my mind was her eyes. They were wide. Wider than I’d ever seen them.” London peered at me, her gaze connecting to mine. “Even in death she looked terrified.”

Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed it down. God, it was so much worse than I ever thought it would be. No child should have to endure that. Now I understood her fear of others, why she was so skittish. And it made sense why her dad was so protective of her. “Oh, London. I’m so sorry.”

She bit her lip. “They caught the guy who murdered her, and he confessed. Told the whole story like he was proud of it or something.” Her eyelids fluttered, her gaze fixated on her feet. “He said she’d been outside gardening when he approached. She’d been wearing a tank top and little shorts.” London let out a bitter laugh. “He made a point of saying that in his confession, like it made a difference. Like he thought her outfit somehow had something to do with him. The guy made up some lie about his car breaking down and not having a cell phone. Mom was kind, like always. She let him inside to use our phone. That’s when he….when he…”

“Shhh.” I squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to keep going. I get it.”

Gratitude swept over her face. “I never trusted any guy after that. Well, until I met you.”

Drawing her close, I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I’ll never hurt you, London.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“What?” She breathed out, her lips parted.

“That’s why you got scared that day in the snow, right?”

“Not because I was scared of you,” she said, her tone desperate. “I guess I’ve just always viewed sex as this scary thing ever since my mom died. Knowing what the man did to her--” her voice broke off, her bottom lip trembling.

“Hey, what that guy did to your mom was awful and sick. But that wasn’t sex. That was violence. When sex is with the right person it is a beautiful thing, and not scary at all.” I paused, looking deep into her eyes. “But I’ll wait until you can see it that way before we do it, okay?”

“Okay.” She dropped her head on my chest, her breath fanning over my skin. It felt good to have London in my arms. I thought back to that first day on the baseball field, how London wore that long-sleeved shirt and I’d teased her about it. Damn, I was such a dick. If only I’d known what I do now.

The sound of the garage door opening caused London’s head to jerk up. Out of the front window I could see Dexter’s car pulling into the driveway. Sniffing, London sat up. Lifting her hand, she wiped under her eyes with her index finger, and then swiped her hand under nose. Clearly she was putting on her brave face. Tires rumbled in the garage.

After studying London to make sure she was all right, I patted her on the back. “I should go see if your dad needs any help. Will you be all right?”

She smiled. “I can survive a few minutes alone. I’m not that close to death.”

I threw her a stern look. “Not funny.”

“Sorry.” She chuckled. “But seriously, I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m so damn fragile.” Peeling herself from the couch, she stood. “In fact, I think I’ll help Dad too.”

I didn’t bother to protest. If anything, I admired her determination. As she walked toward the kitchen, I stood and followed her. We had almost reached the kitchen when London’s body suddenly went limp. Before I could react, she slumped to the ground, her head hitting the carpet, her arms falling to her sides. I leapt forward when her body started jerking manically, her eyelids twitching. Panic seized me, and I reeled back.