Chapter 33

I'm perchedcross-legged on Gabe's plush living room carpet, the soft glow of my laptop casting an eerie light across my face. My fingers hover over the keyboard as I try to create a budget. Who knew that babysitting would give me enough to live on for at least the next six to eight months?

Well, that's not all that I have, though. I had plenty of money in the joint account Dad used to transfer money for my expenses. This feels so wrong, like cutting an umbilical cord or leaving the baby kangaroo outside the mother's pouch. Sure, I'm twenty but I wasn't expecting to lose everything suddenly.

I whisper to myself, "Six to eight months. That's all I have, but what about the medical expenses? Is Dad going to take the insurance away, too?"

The words hang in the air. Around me, Gabe's living room feels too large, too quiet. The walls seem to absorb my anxiety, not offering any comfort.

My mind races with calculations. Rent. Tuition. The numbers swarm in my head, relentless and unforgiving. I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the burden of my decisions. Yet, there's a little silver lining. I've taken extra credits, pushing myself closer to finish college sooner. Just three or maybe two more semesters, and I'll graduate. It saves me money, and maybe I can get a better job with my current experience.

Once I feel better about that situation, I pick up my phone with trembling fingers, dialing the oncologist's number. I can't keep ignoring that I need to see one immediately and start treatment. My heart pounds against my chest, each beat reverberating with a mix of fear and hope.

I tell them who's referring me to them. They ask for all my data and when it comes to the insurance she asks me to say the numbers twice. "Let me verify your insurance."

What's there to verify? Though I want to ask, I just stay on the line. A few moments later the receptionist's voice, distant and clinical, cuts through the line, "I'm sorry, but your insurance isn't valid."

"Are you sure about that? The hospital took it yesterday without a problem," I state.

"You'll need to call them and make sure they didn't make any changes," she continues. There's clacking of the keyboard on the other side.

"Like what kind of changes?" I ask.

"Your father could've lost his job and didn't tell you," she states as if that's something that happens every day but the words suddenly make sense.

They hit me hard in the pit of my stomach. Dad removed me from the insurance. I can feel the panic rising, a tide that threatens to engulf me. I go through the motions of making the appointment, then she reminds me of the cost that I have to pay upfront if I don't have valid insurance at the time of services.

After hanging up, I desperately try to call Izzy, but the call goes straight to voicemail. I leave a message, my voice cracking with emotion. "Izzy, I need you. Please call me. This isn't about Dad or Mom, but me. I'm sick and I need my big sister." The words tumble out, a cascade of hurt and confusion.

I end the call, my breath hitching in my throat. Tears well in my eyes, spilling over in silent streams. I'm alone, utterly alone in this.

"What's going on?" Gabe's voice startles me. I clear the tears with the back of my hand.

"Nothing," I answer, trying not to sound sad, but the sobs that follow betray me.

He slides in behind me, pulling me into his lap. "This doesn't sound like nothing."

I sigh, leaning back into his chest. His warmth envelops me, the clean scent of his shirt filling my senses. "My insurance . . . I don't have insurance," I confess. "The appointment is there, but I'll have to pay at the time of services. Then, I called Izzy and . . ."

Gabe kisses the top of my head. "When is the appointment?"

"They were able to get me in next Friday," I mumble.

"Let me make a few calls, see if they can see us tomorrow," he states, as if he can just wave some magic wand and fix everything. "How about the rest? You said you were going to make a budget."

"Well, I was able to transfer the money from the joint account, so I'll be okay for about six months. But after that . . ." I trail off, chewing my lower lip.

"You don't have to worry about that while you're here," he states, as if money isn't a problem.

Twisting in his embrace, I look up at him. The lines around his eyes are tight with concern.

"I can't ask you to do that," I mumble, concerned about him.

His parents don't give him money. He has to work to make ends meet. There's this house which most likely cost him a lot. I don't want to take from him.

"You're not asking. I'm offering." One corner of his mouth ticks up. "We're in this together, remember?"

I smooth my hands over his chest, fingers trailing down to toy with the hem of his shirt. Our eyes meet, and the air charges between us. "You do too much for your friends. I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage of you."

Slowly, he leans closer and, suddenly, his lips capture mine. They are warm and firm. My fingers curl into his shirt, holding him close as we lose ourselves in each other. Our kiss deepens, tongues tangling as Gabe's hands trail down my back. This kiss is something, everything.

It's life-changing.

Mind-altering.

Heart-stopping.

Soul-stirring.

It's an all-consuming moment, where we are like converging rivers, seamlessly blending into a single, powerful current.

I arch into him with a soft moan, a surge of heat blooming beneath my skin. His fingers venture under my shirt, tracing the contours of my sides, igniting a desire to explore him further, to know him more intimately.

He tastes like love, like promises.

He tastes like forever.

But forever is too soon.

Forever feels overwhelming, daunting even, considering everything I have to figure out before I fall madly off a precipice with this man. This amazing, caring man who kisses like a god.

Breathless, I break off the kiss. "Gabe . . ." His name is a mix of longing and hesitation. Love and fear.

His eyes are dark, lips kiss-swollen. "I know, we should stop."

My protest dies on my lips as he moves me even closer, and there's a delicious friction that makes me gasp.

"But should we?" His voice is a low rumble, resonating against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. His teeth graze my earlobe, and my eyelids flutter shut, lost in the sensation.

I clutch at his shoulders, heart pounding loudly inside my chest threatening to jump and just move in with Gabe. "I-I need to look at the budget again. To figure out how I'm going to deal with the medical expenses." My excuse sounds weak even to my ears.

Gabe chuckles, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. His hands frame my face, his gaze filled with a tenderness that makes me want to melt into him.

"So we take this slower, is that what you're trying to tell me?" he asks softly.

"Umm, what is this?" I dare to ask because . . . well, what are we really doing?

He lets out a playful scoff. "If I have to spell it out for you, maybe I'm not doing it right."

The budget, the worries of the world, they all fade into the background. Right now, all that matters is this feeling of belonging, of being cherished, here in Gabe's arms.