19. FIELD

FIELD

“ G o away,” I said. But there was no malice or fight to my words. Not that time.

I hadn’t expected to see him. My shaky fingers found the knob of the radio and silenced it before the game even started because I was so heartbroken that I couldn’t be there.

But now he was standing on my driveway in his pinstripe baseball uniform, dirty strands of hair sticking out the bottom of his backward-turned hat and that stupid nervous grin on his face. My brows furrowed as I did the math.

It was nearly three hours from Perrin.

There was no way he had played in that game and stood here with me.

It wasn’t possible.

“No.” He shook his head and reached up to pull off his hat, tucking it into his back pocket.

“You shouldn’t be here if my dad—” I started but the soft shake of his head told me that excuse wasn’t going to work.

It had been a very rough few days. I’d collapsed on Monday, unable to carry the weight of my own body, and it wasn’t a second thought for us to end up at the hospital doing tests. The inner corners of my arms were still sore from all the needles they had shoved under my skin, and my muscles were still stiff from the confinements of a hard hospital mattress.

Food had become more unappetizing again, and the siren call of my bed was echoing in my head every time I made a move to work out the cramps forming. I’d taken a long shower, the steam forcing me to sit on the edge of the bath until the dizziness passed.

But when Ryan showed up on the driveway it returned tenfold, rushing through my tired body like an unstoppable tidal wave. The sight of him was enough to make me cry.

“I don’t give a shit about your Dad, Starlight,” Ryan chuckled and stepped forward until he was at the foot of the stairs, his balance uneasy and his shoulders pinned back with nerves. “Are you alright?” He asked me casually as if he could solve whatever issue left my lips next.

“No,” I answered honestly, even though it's probably not what he wants to hear at the moment.

“When did you get home?” Ryan asked. It was clear that he wanted to come closer and desperately needed to close the gap between us, but he wouldn’t do it unless I asked him to.

“This morning.” I knotted my fingers around the hem of my sweater. It wasn’t overly cold outside, even with the breeze. June’s heat was starting to settle around the town, and all summer flowers had bloomed, making the air sticky and floral. But my body didn’t care what temperature it was outside. My bones were frozen, and my circulation was shot.

“Is it bad?” He asked.

“It could be. I have an infection that’s not healing on its own…” I trailed off. “You don’t want to know all of this crap, Ryan.”

He surged up the steps at my dismissal. “I want to know everything all the time," he argued, his hands flexing at his side from the incessant urge to touch me.

“They have me on medicine.” My voice was tight and quiet to keep the dry, cracking sound from reaching him. “If it works, I’ll be okay,” I said, not looking away from him.

“ If ,” Ryan repeated, his eyes glassy from holding back his emotions. “If it doesn’t?” He asked.

“Then I go back in for more tests and treatment. The hospital is sterile. It's the best place for me, but I hate it there. It’s so quiet except for this low hum that my brain knows is the machine but for some reason, I associate the sound to death. ” I swallowed hard and finally looked away from him.

“But being here, being home, might make you sick?” He questioned.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “But that chance exists anywhere. It’s just easier for my mother if I’m there, where she barely has to look after me.” I sighed, trying to fill my lungs with air, but they were sore, and each breath was precious energy.

I could see the anger behind his eyes as he registered what I was saying to him. “You left the game…” I said next, my brows coming together in a tight line. “Everyone was there for you.”

He was quiet for a moment that felt like forever, no doubt running the information over more than once. When he finally spoke again, I flinched at the sound. “I couldn’t find you tonight,” he said with a little shake.

Guilt ate at me, gnawing at my racing heart.

“I couldn’t go to the game; there are too many people and a higher risk of worse infection,” I explained, but his brows crinkled, and he shook his head no at me.

“No, no…I couldn’t find you in the sky, and I know how ridiculous that sounds, but when I looked up, I couldn’t find you.” He reiterated with a heavy tone. “I hated it. You are literally the light I look for, and the past few days,… not knowing what was happening. I couldn’t bear it, Rae. You gotta…” He stopped again, struggling to get it out.

Ryan’s hands began to shake, and he could barely look at me anymore, tears welling in those striking green eyes without his permission as he chewed at his bottom lip. I reached out the moment he sank to his knees, his body heaving in upset with his palms flat against the porch. I crouched next to him, pulling him with what little strength I had until he was pressed against my chest, and we were nothing but a tight, tangled mess of each other.

His hat came loose in the contact and clattered to the ground as I raked my fingers into his hair and brushed them down against his wet cheek. His hands were tight against my back, fingers spread wide and pressed into my skin as if he was in threat of being blown away.

Ryan stiffened, his forehead resting against my shoulder. “You have to tell me everything. You can’t just leave…” He said up a little and cupped my face in his calloused hands. “I want to help, and I know that I don’t have any idea what you’re up against, but I don’t want you to go in it alone, so just…” he pressed our foreheads together. “You have to promise me that you won’t do it alone.”

I wasn’t even sure that was a promise I could make; we were seventeen years old and I was a ticking time bomb. Part of my hesitation was rooted firmly in Ryan’s reaction to a simple cold: if anything worse were to happen… How could I promise him that I wouldn’t do it alone? I didn’t want to share my suffering or pain with him. I wanted to protect him from that. To shield him from all of the bad in my life, he carried enough of his own around on his shoulders. And here he was on his knees, begging to take more.

“You have a future, Ryan,” I whispered to him.

“Not without you, I don’t,” his answer was instant. “Stop trying to figure out how to push me away. I’m not leaving, Rae. Sick, healthy.” He squeezed his hands tighter around my face. “You’re mine, I’m yours.”

“You can’t ruin your dreams for some sick girl who might not see her eighteenth birthday, Ryan. I won’t let you.” I covered his hands with my own and pressed down.

“You’re so cold,” he whispered, the pain on his face evident as he struggled to gain control of his racing heart and strung-out emotions. “And I’m not ruining my dreams. You’re a part of them now. I’m going to be a star, just like you.” He kissed my nose. “And we’re going to get out of this town and celebrate every birthday like it’s your last. I’m going to buy you a stupid trinket every year. We’re going to have six kids.” He said with a smile.

“Ryan!” A small, defeated laugh fell from me, and he pouted at my protest. “Let’s start with one,” I chewed my bottom lip and scrunched my nose up at him. I couldn’t help but give into his whims, his love.

“With your eyes and smile,” he nipped at my nose with his teeth before kissing my cheek and then the corner of my mouth and jaw. “Promise?”

“Promise.”