Prologue

PROLOGUE

AUGUST

TWO MONTHS AGO

I never thought it would be me sitting in this chair, waiting for my entire life to be changed or to be told I could breathe a sigh of release. It’s not just the waiting; it is back in this very office, the same office where my mom received bad news after bad news until it stopped because her life ended. Hell, it's even the same doctor delivering the information to me. Ever since I stepped foot in this place an hour ago, my mind has been a movie reel going over everything from a time in my life when hope was fleeting and, most often, we survived on love and the friendship of others. To be honest, for me, it wasn’t just anyone. My life had no ‘after’ until the day Declan walked into the support group.

THIRTEEN YEARS OLD

I am sitting in this room surrounded by other kids who, like me, have parents who are battling a terminal illness. We are all from various races, backgrounds, socio-economic statuses, cities, grades, schools, and yet, diseases that take your family from you have ravaged all of our lives equally. Joining this group was the day I learned I, the child of a terminally ill patient, is not alone. We are all bonded over our grief, fear of losing our parents, and our utter feeling of being lost. So together, we all make up the Angst of Losing Teen group, funded by the hospital all of our parents attend for treatment. My little sister Connie is not old enough to attend, but the minute she is, I am going to make sure she comes. This is affecting her as well.

“Kids, I would like for you to meet Declan. He is new to our group and to this part of life. I expect all of you will welcome him and offer your support.” We all nod as a new frisson forms in our hearts to welcome another member. He looks around, obviously scared and unsure, hands in his pockets. My heart aches for him. If this is his first go-round, he has no idea what to expect, and to be honest, even years later, you still have no clue, but one minute, you're in remission; the next, it's back. It is a never-ending roller coaster of pain and upheaval.

“Hey, you can sit over here,” I tell him, waving my hands in the air. He looks my way and nods his head. When he sits, I expect us to go back to paying attention to the meeting, but he turns to me with his soul-deep chocolate eyes and smiles.

“Thanks. My name's Declan,” he says, holding his hand out. His name fits him. Putting my hand in his, I smile back.

“Nice to meet you, Declan. My name is August. Welcome to club angst.” his eyes soften. Yeah, buddy, trust me, it gets worse. But the day I met him, something got better, at least in my chest.

FIFTEEN YEARS OLD

“So what did she say?” I ask my mom, who just walked into the house. She has been in remission for the last six months, and although that is amazing, it doesn’t really count until you make it a year. Until that time, you go back every six or, in my mom’s case, due to the swift way it attacked her body, every three months for scans and bloodwork. The three of us have remained optimistic, and dollops of hope have trickled in with each positive update. It’s been nice to laugh and smile.

My mom and Declan’s parents have become great friends. Well, I guess they didn’t have a choice since he and I have been practically attached at the hip ever since he asked me to be his girlfriend at the end of last summer. His mom has been in remission since she finished her treatment at the beginning of this year, and so both houses have been celebrating. Now, I just want the bubble to stay full.

“The cancer is back, and it has spread to my bones.” Pop. I stumble back and grip on the chair behind me.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No. She made a mistake. I mean, you look fine. We would have known. If you were in pain or feeling unwell, we would have. " My mom looks at me, guilt in her eyes, and it hits me. In the back of my mind, I am happy Connie is at school and isn’t here for this right now.

“You've been hiding it from us?” I cry out, completely shocked. “You have been lying about feeling better?”

“I did it to protect you, sweet girls. You have been so happy, smiling, laughing, the haunted eyes have been gone, I just…I wanted you to hold onto that for as long as possible.” I hear her. Logically, I know what she is saying makes sense, but we have been a team ever since my dad died when I was eleven and Connie was nine. He was a construction worker and in a freak accident, and the life insurance money make it so that my mom didn’t have to work, and my sisters and my college was taken care of along with the house being paid off.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” I tell her, plopping down on the seat and putting my hands on my head. I should have known it would never last. Nothing ever does.

SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD

“Dec, what do you need me to do?” I am currently sitting beside him at the house while people come and go, giving their condolences and apologies for the passing of his mom.

Three months ago, she went in for an annual scan and found out she had stage 4 bone cancer. They tried aggressive treatment right out of the gate on account of the aggressiveness of how it had spread, but two months later, when it went into her brain, they knew there was nothing else to do. She told them she was done fighting and was gone three weeks later.

“Nothing, babe. Just what you’re doing. Just sit with me.” He grabs my hand and squeezes it.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, Dec.'' Laying my head on his shoulder, we sit like this for hours, neither of us hungry or in the mood for conversation. The truth is I am dealing with grief, albeit not like his, but I loved his mom. She was like a second mom to me. But I am also dealing with guilt because as I look across the room at my mom helping his dad with everything, all I can think is, ‘Thank God it wasn’t her,’ and that makes me feel like shit.

“Kiddos, I think you should eat something.” His dad comes over with a plate of random things. My stomach starts growling, and I try to play it off. I am not eating if he doesn’t. It is my penance for the thoughts going through my mind.

“August, eat,” Declan says, looking at me. When I try to protest, he leans over and kisses me, which is usually how he silences me when he doesn’t want to argue but is not going to back down. “Please,” he asks. Not wanting him to think of nothing but himself right now, I nod and take the plate.

“Okay,” I say, giving him my compliant smile. I would do anything for him.

EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

“Congratulations, you two!” His father and two brothers yell at us. We graduated high school; as happy as we are, it is bittersweet. We buried my mom last week, and it was the hardest fucking thing I ever had to do. For seven years, it was only us battling this demon together, sharing our pain and laughter. The titan trio we called ourselves, but now, she is gone, and if it weren’t for Declan, I would have died with her.

“Thanks,” I say to his dad and brothers. Declan knows me more than anyone, pulling me closer to his side.

“How are you holding up baby?” I lean my head on his shoulder and shrug.

“As good as can be expected. I would be a basket case if it weren't for you.” Kissing his cheek, I snuggle into his chest, waiting for the crowd to die to make our way to the parking lot.

“They would both be so happy for us, baby, you know that right? They would have loved knowing we are going to school together and living in an apartment. They wanted that for us. They wanted us to be happy.” I put my head on his neck and kiss him once more for reminding me.

“You’re right. They would be.”

“So what do you say, baby? Are you ready to start the next chapter?” I take a second to look around and say a silent thanks to the woman who encouraged me, loved me and fought for me as long as she could. I let a lone tear fall, and then I look at the love of my life and nod my head.

“Let’s do it, babe. Let’s go start a new life.”

Present Day

I look at my watch for the hundredth time and follow it up with a peek at her clock. I have been waiting for about an hour, and as each minute ticks by, I know it is not good news. I mean, how can it be? It doesn’t take an hour to tell someone good news.

Another five minutes pass, and then the doctor comes in. “Miss Henreigh. My look how you’ve grown.” She says, projecting a calm demeanor, which I suppose is good for a patient about to be told their life is changing, but having been here for a few of my mom's times, it doesn’t work for me.

“Dr. Rogers. I am assuming it is not good news.” Might as well rip the band-aid off.

“Well, it is not great news, but it is encouraging news.” She pauses, expecting me to say something, but I am waiting for the boom to drop. “You have stage 1 cervical cancer my dear.” Oh God. Water rushes into my ears, and the noise is blotted out. I hear nothing but rushing waves and calm air, and then, over the horizon, I see something threatening my peace, which snaps me out of it. “August, did you hear me?” I blink a few times to drown out her words again, but it is no use. “Miss Henreigh can I get you something?” Shaking my head, I clear my throat.

“No. No, I’m fine. Um, so what now?”

“Well, now we make a plan and get you scheduled for chemo.” Jesus. My mind goes back to my mom in treatment, her lack of energy, her pretend smiles, and her false bravado. “How does that sound?” I am trying not to let the tears form, but it is a battle I will soon lose.

Oh God, Declan. My Dec, how is he going to make it through this? Another woman in his life afflicted with this life-sucking illness? I can’t tell him. I can’t subject him to this again, watching me waste away. He barely made it with his mom. This might push him over the edge. It could kill him. He might not make it through it. Hell, I guess it doesn’t matter.

I probably won’t either.