Forever Kinda Love Read online

  Fully drenched, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. I knew deep down he would come for me, like he always has, trying to protect me from everything and anything.

  But he can’t protect me from everything. A jolt of panic rushes through me. He can’t protect me from whatever it is Hudson found in my tests either. Suddenly, my confrontation with Lisa seems so stupid, so insignificant. What if Hudson was trying to tell me something horrible, like I have a brain tumor, or cancer, or . . .

  “I can’t breathe.” My voice comes out faint, and I reach for him. I fall forward, drowning in emotions.

  “I’ve got you, baby.” Heath wraps me in his arms like a cocoon. He whispers encouraging words, telling me I need to breathe. He places small kisses at the top of my head as he rocks me, swaying me side to side in his arms. “Breathe for me, baby.”

  His voice is clear as crisp air, even with the monstrous rain beating down around us. After what seems like a million years, I open my eyes, my breathing controlled. Heath’s gaze scours over me, half-concerned and half-pissed as The Hulk.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says, the back of his hand caressing my cheek.

  What is he apologizing for? He picks me up, cradling me to his chest, and carries me to the couch, settling me gently over it.

  “I-it’s not your fault.”

  He shakes his head. “It is. I shouldn’t have made a spectacle of us two weeks ago. I swear to you, Ace, I’ll make them pay. I promise.” He kisses my forehead one final time and turns to leave.

  Panic bubbles to the top of my throat, the tremble in my chest increasing as he walks away and opens the door. I shoot to my feet and run after him. My head spins, but I don’t care. “Heath!”

  I run out the door and throw myself into his arms. He steadies us when my body slams into his.

  “I—” I stop myself. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, or how I feel. I stare into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  The rain beats down, drenching and soaking us with a vengeance. I don’t care that I could get sick come tomorrow. I just live in this moment, in his eyes.

  “I love you,” he says. But this time, it feels different somehow. Not like the gazillion times he’s said he loved me when we parted ways. This time, it feels pure, raw, like he’s handing me the world in those three small syllables.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, his love giving me the strength to face tomorrow. I want my own declaration to pour out of me. But it won’t. It’s stuck on the tip of my tongue, not making it past my thoughts. And I don’t know why. Because there’s no question about my feelings for him.

  He’s my best friend, and I’m in love with him.

  His eyes fall as pain reaches them. “It’s okay, Ace.” He brushes my cheek, wiping away the tears and the rain. “You don’t have to say it back. Just know that I do love you. More than I’ve loved anyone else.”

  He kisses my forehead before he walks away from me.

  I know he wants me to say those words, but he won’t expect it. He’ll take what I can give. And for now, this is all I can give him.

  I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M spending my last day as a seventeen-year-old in a hospital. I walk toward Hudson’s office on the seventh floor of the building. His secretary tells me he’s expecting me. So I go to where she points me and stop when I reach the sturdy door. I raise my hand, and pause. The words “Hudson Lovelly, M.D.” sprawl in a curvy font across the silver plaque in front of my face.

  I didn’t tell Dad about my visit. I didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily—especially with the way he’s been hovering over me since the accident. Maybe if I just get the blood tests, it’ll turn out to be nothing.

  Swallowing my nerves, I knock hesitantly. The door stares back at me, mocking me, before it abruptly swings open and Homer Lovelly, Heath’s father, stands tall in front of me. Shock stuns me speechless.

  “Hello, Carrigan.” He smiles, sort of. It’s somewhere between a scrunch of his nose and wincing. “It’s been awhile.” He shakes my hand, then steps aside in true professional manner.

  I give him a courtesy smile and move into the office. Hudson is leaning against his desk, the heels of his palms pushing into the mahogany. His hands look nearly white.

  Mr. Lovelly sighs, clapping his hands together. “That’s my cue.” He nods at Hudson, then at me, like he doesn’t know what to say, and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

  My heart thrums, and my hands tremble. I fist them at my sides, turning my gaze back to Hudson.

  “Ace, please have a seat,” he says, not giving anything away.

  “I’d rather stand,” I answer. My heart beats faster by the second, and my head’s starting to spin.

  A heavy sigh pushes from between his lips. “Thank you for coming. As I mentioned yesterday, I have reason to believe the ER doctor made a mistake. But I’d like to get you in for some more blood tests before we draw any conclusions.”

  “What do you mean he made a mistake?” The question comes out weak, shaky.

  “During your ER visit, you had a complete blood count drawn. However, your doctor didn’t review and sign off on the results, possibly because he was focused on looking for signs of trauma from the cheerleading accident.” He sighs again. “I’m concerned because some of your blood count values were flagged as critical by the laboratory—particularly your white blood cell count. But I want to be sure, Ace, and the only way for me to do that is to do some additional tests.” He clamps his hands together, and his lips thin.

  I jerk my chin toward him and ask, “What kind of conclusions have you drawn thus far? I mean, what are some possibilities—worst case scenario?”

  He wraps his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Please,” I plead. I need to know what I might be up against. If it’s just some sort of anemia or deficiency, I can work with that.

  “I—” He pauses.

  I stare at him, willing him to tell me.

  He sighs, running his hand down the side of his face. “Remember, this is just a theory, and it’s the worst case scenario.”

  I nod.

  “It might be a type of blood cancer.”

  “Cancer . . . ?”

  His words start to phase in and out, and my head spins. I slowly lower myself into the chair. Cancer . . . ? But I’m only seventeen, and I’ve been really good with my health. I don’t feel sick or weak—sure, I’ve been tired lately, but I thought . . . I thought that was because of school coming to an end and everything that had crap-piled on top of it. But then . . . what about the nosebleeds . . . ? Or the slip during cheer practice . . . surely those were because of stress, right?

  What if they weren’t? My heart sinks. What if I do have cancer . . . what does that mean for my future? The pain . . . and all that time in hospitals . . . needles and wires poking and prodding . . . and the hair loss . . . and dying . . .

  “Ace,” Hudson calls, crouching before me, his hands on my shoulders. “Breathe, Ace. Breathe.”

  I blink after what feels like an eternity.

  “Ace—”

  “No,” I say, attempting to get to my feet. He lends me his hand for support, and I take it. I need some air. I need to clear my head. H-how do I deal with this? How do I tell Dad? Heath . . . ?

  “Ace, we’ll do everything—” he starts.

  I drop his hand, shaking my head. “You don’t understand . . . I can’t—”

  “What’s going on here?” Dad’s voice cuts off my protest.

  I spin on my heels, and my eyes widen. “Dad . . . ?”

  “Baby girl?” Dad eyes Hudson, then me.

  “Dad, what are you doing here?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, realization hits me, and I suddenly feel cold.

  He freaking called my dad?

  I glare at Hudson.

  “What the hell is going on?” Dad interrupts. “I got a call from a Dr. Hutchinson’s office yesterday, asking me to stop by this morning.”

  “Mr. Casper, D
r. Hutchinson is a specialist. The specialist that might be taking over your daughter’s case. And he called you so you could be brought up to speed on Ace’s situation. He’s running a few minutes late.”

  “Wait a minute,” Dad interjects. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with Ace?”

  Hudson looks at me, as if waiting for me to answer the question, giving me the chance to do so.

  My lips thin.

  “Ace,” Hudson prompts me to speak.

  “Ace, sweetheart.” Dad places his hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on, munchkin?” He shakes my shoulder when I avert my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Ace,” he warns, like I’m a child that refuses to eat.

  I shrug him off. “No.” I tremble. I’m mad as hell at Hudson for putting me in this position. He should have just trusted me to make the right call, which was not to involve Dad.

  And I’m pissed at Dad, because out of all the years he could’ve cared, he chooses now . . . these past few weeks? He was never around or drunk within an hour of coming home, and now he wants to know what’s wrong with me? Well, too frigging bad. I took care of myself for all those years, and I can take care of myself now. Maybe I should have left for that trip after all. Take my two thousand dollars and travel the world. That would last me a good four or so months, until I could find some other job. Wouldn’t it?

  “Since you’re a minor, I’m obligated to share my finding with you father. However, your father deserves to know from you, Ace.” Hudson says, pointedly looking toward Dad.

  Deserves? That word snaps something deep inside me. All the pent-up anger and guilt I’ve kept bottled up for the past decade wells, mixing with the fear of my possible death until I can’t hold it in any longer.

  “He’s the last person that deserves anything. He left me to raise myself! I would have had nobody to talk to if it weren’t for Heath. I blamed myself for Mom’s death while he sulked in alcohol, thinking about himself. He abandoned me for the dead that left him behind.”

  I can’t breathe, but at the same time, I can’t seem to shut up either. The dam has broken, and there’s no stopping the word vomit. “Do you even know how hard it was to go through my first period without a woman in my life, let alone a parent? Hell, do you even know when I got my first period, Dad? Heath knows, because he was there. He called Blake to help me through it. Do you know how freaking embarrassing it is that a guy, my best friend, knows when my period starts every month? How humiliating it is that he bought me my first tampons?”

  I stare at Dad, furious. He looks back at me, his eyes big and round, like he’s shocked at my outburst. Maybe I even see a glimpse of remorse in there.

  “And what about the sex talk, Dad? Or the first guy I dated—do you know his name? Hell, do you even know if I’m still a virgin, or did I give it up to some random guy in a dive bar? Did you even care what kind of trouble I could’ve gotten into? So no, I don’t understand why he would deserve to know that my body is slowly punishing me for killing Mom and my baby sister.”

  “What?” His eyes soften and hurt replaces the confusion. He reaches for my shoulder again. “What did you say?”

  Tears stream down my cheeks.

  This is the first time I’ve opened up to him. And if this is what it takes for me to tell him what I’ve gone through, then so be it. “I know, Dad. I found out about it a few weeks ago. Mom was pregnant when she died. I know why you can’t look at me most days. I know why you hate me.”

  “Baby girl, no.” He lets go and steps back. He chews on his lower lip, thrusting his hand through his thinning hair, and turns his back to me.

  Typical. Turning his back on me when things get tough. Nothing new there.

  “I’ve been such a fool,” he whispers, like he’s talking to himself. He shakes his head. I hear his deep inhale, and watch as his back straightens. He pivots around on the balls of his feet and pulls me to him. “Carrigan, I never meant to ignore you.”

  He pushes me to arm’s length, and secures a strand of hair behind my ear with a sad smile. My heart races, galloping in confusion. I haven’t seen this side of him before, so I’m not sure how to react. I’ve known the loving father, and the one that moped around. But this . . . this person, with defeat and shame shining from his eyes, is someone I’m not sure how to handle.

  “When I lost your mom and sister, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t deal with the loss. Everything around me reminded me of your mom, no matter what I did, or where I went. It was like losing her all over again. Every day. I’m not proud of how I handled everything. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It took me two years before I realized that I needed to do better. And I tried. God knows I tried to get out of bed and head out the door each and every morning. But I know now that wasn’t enough, baby girl. I should have done more than just trying to get food on the table.”

  My throat tightens with emotion. I want to tell him that I understand, that I forgive him, but I also want to yell at the top of my lungs, “what about me?”

  “And then there’s you, so beautiful and strong, just like her. You have her eyes and hair, and even the way you smile . . .”

  “I didn’t deserve to be neglected,” I say, hating how weak my voice sounds.

  “I know, sweetheart. By the time I realized my mistake, I noticed just how much you’d grown up. There’s not a day where I’m not thankful for Blake. I didn’t know if I could help you, but Blake . . . she was a Godsend.” He brushes his hand over my hair. “I should have been a better father. I know I don’t deserve it, and I won’t ask you to forgive me, but please know that I won’t ever hurt you intentionally, sweet girl. Whatever it is you’re going through, I’ll be there, every step of the way. I can’t lose you, too.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and tucks me into him in a sideways hug. “You’re all I have, and I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you. I should have been the adult. Don’t push me away. Please.”

  “Let him in,” Hudson says. I almost mistake his voice for Heath’s. “Give him a chance.”

  I blink, heat coursing through my veins in embarrassment. I can’t believe I made a scene in front of Hudson. I wrap my arms around my body, shrinking into Dad’s embrace, hoping to disappear.

  “We still don’t know exactly what Ace’s numbers mean. This could be something that’s highly treatable. But if it’s what I fear, the road isn’t going to be easy. You’re going to need your Dad, Ace.” Hudson gently reminds me of my possible future.

  “No,” Dad states firmly, the arm around my shoulder tightening. “Carrigan’s strong. She’s stronger than anyone I know. I mean, look how wonderful she turned out, even with a fucked-up father like me.” He gives me a half-smile, determination in his eyes. “She’ll make it through this. We’ll make it through this. Whatever this is.”

  But despite his words, I can’t help wondering what will happen to him if things take a turn for the worst. He might drown himself in sorrow and guilt, and this time, there will be no one to pick him up when he falls. I can’t leave him to that fate. In spite of everything, everything he’s done, all the mistakes we’ve made, I do love him and owe it to him—to Mom—to make the most of these days. He needs to know that it’s okay to move on, even if he has no one left. So I nod, take his hand in mine, and squeeze in reassurance.

  For his sake, I’ll fight. I’ll do everything I can to help him see there’s more to life than guilt and sorrow.

  Even if it’s the last thing I do.

  “A BIOPSY . . . ?” DAD’S VOICE cracks.

  I turn to look at him. He’s sitting beside me, his eyes big and round and filled with terror. His hands cup mine in a tight grip.

  My vision blurs as tears roll down my cheeks.

  My gaze travels to Hudson, seated beside Dad, hoping to find some comfort or that he’ll jump up and say “gotcha!” But his features stay stoic, professionally schooled. So I turn my attention to Dr. Hutchinson, the specialist Hudson highly recommended for my possible treatment.
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  “I can’t be one hundred percent certain until we get a sample,” Dr. Hutchinson says in a compassionate voice. “But you must understand, cancer can be a very painful experience. I don’t want to make assumptions without all the data. I know it can be difficult for both the parent and the child, but I promise you, we’ll do everything we can to ensure it is as painless as possible.”

  “Dr. Hutchinson has decades of experience with childhood cancer treatments,” Hudson says, his hands folded tightly in his lap. “Trust me when I say, she’s in the best of hands, Mr. Casper.”

  Dad nods and turns to me. His face is flushed from tears he can’t seem to stop. He pulls me to him, kissing my forehead, then places his arm around my shoulder. He sighs. “So, how do we move forward?”

  Over the next few hours, Dad and I are educated on what to expect. They’ll take a sample from the back of my hipbone and I’ll be given a small dosage of chemo while under sedation. The recovery will take no more than an hour and a half, and I’ll be sent home with a bottle of Tylenol for any “discomfort.” Apparently, I can expect the pain to last a good twenty-four hours after that.

  Then, we have to wait four painstakingly long days for the results to come back, all while trying not to panic.

  “Well, Mr. Casper, we’ll need you to fill out these forms consenting to the treatment, and then we’ll get Ace ready for the procedure,” Dr. Hutchinson says, handing Dad a clipboard with a bunch of forms. Dad looks them over while I stare at the poster behind Hudson’s desk. Redwoods. Interesting choice.

  When Dad’s finished, Dr. Hutchinson gives our paperwork to his nurse, instructing her to help us through the process of preparing for my biopsy in ninety minutes. The nurse, Sheila, is patient with us and extremely sympathetic toward my situation. She tells us about Dr. Hutchinson’s experience and the countless number of teenagers he’s helped over the years she’s been working for him. The words ease the nausea that’s building inside me, but not the fear of what I’m about to undergo. So, after a little while, I shut out her voice and just stay mute, trying to turn off my brain.