like it didn’t exist. She’d pretended not to see it too. He’d put them on that damn positive-thoughts diet and she’d gone along with it. She’d played the role of loving daughter, good patient, brave friend and strong woman because she sensed it was what the others needed from her.
In reality, she was none of those things. It was taking all the strength in her body not to rip out the goddamn IV, scream at the top of her lungs for all of them to leave her the fuck alone and to run away. Far far away.
She closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t do any of those things. She was trapped. Her chest constricted and she fought to center herself, to find one lousy happy place where she could retreat. She’d always considered herself so smart about stress management. When others freaked out, she was able to remain calm, cool and collected. She couldn’t find that ability now.
Robbie’s finger stroked the top of her clenched fist. It startled her. She’d forgotten he was there.
“You don’t have to stay the whole time.” The words were pulled from her almost painfully. Truth was she’d lose it if he tried to leave.
He grinned. “I’m not going anywhere so save your breath.”
“Four hours is a long time.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to be. I brought my computer and headphones. Figure I can write my lyrics here as easily as at home.”
“That chair looks uncomfortable.”
He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Next time, I’ll bring a pillow.” He flipped her hand over and pried her fingers open as he laid his palm flat against hers. “Tell me what you need, Zoey.”
She frowned. “I’m fine.”
He scoffed and gave her a sad smile. “No, you’re not. You’re sitting there trying not to freak out. So tell me what you need. A pep talk? Peace and quiet? A quickie?”
She laughed. “The quickie sounds tempting.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’d put that goddamn IV in my own chest if I could.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I know you would.”
For the first time, she imagined how she’d feel if the roles were reversed. What if it was Robbie who’d been diagnosed with cancer? What if she was sitting in that horrible hard chair while he lay here in the recliner having the chemo pumped into his body? She’d hate it. Hate the helplessness, the worry. God, just the idea of him suffering put an unbearable ache in her gut. Both chairs in this room sucked.
Her eyelids began to feel heavy. “The nurse said the medicine would make me drowsy.”
“You sleepy?”
She nodded. “A little. Robbie?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you sing to me?” When he was first learning how to play guitar, he’d drag her into the garage or his bedroom or to a quiet place in the park and perform for her. Asking for her opinion of his voice or the lyrics to a song he’d written or just to show off. She’d loved every minute of it, always enjoying those quiet moments with him strumming the guitar, his voice soothing all the rough spots inside her away.
Her happy place.
“Here?”
She looked around. They were the only two people in the small room, separated from the others by thin walls and a curtained door. Even if his voice carried, she didn’t think there was a person in this place who wouldn’t be comforted by Robbie’s singing.
“Please.”
“I play the guitar better than I sing. You know that.”
“Liar. Mooching for compliments?”
He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. And as always, you play hard to get. Fine. Let me think of something to sing.”
He was quiet for a moment and she could imagine him filing through the thousands of songs in his head, trying to find the perfect one. She had no doubt whatever he chose, it would be the exact one she needed to hear.
“Okay. I know you like this one. Wish I had my guitar.” He sang softly at first. Zoey recognized the song the second he started. She’d been right. He’d found the perfect song to calm her down. He sang “Something in the Way She
In reality, she was none of those things. It was taking all the strength in her body not to rip out the goddamn IV, scream at the top of her lungs for all of them to leave her the fuck alone and to run away. Far far away.
She closed her eyes tightly. She couldn’t do any of those things. She was trapped. Her chest constricted and she fought to center herself, to find one lousy happy place where she could retreat. She’d always considered herself so smart about stress management. When others freaked out, she was able to remain calm, cool and collected. She couldn’t find that ability now.
Robbie’s finger stroked the top of her clenched fist. It startled her. She’d forgotten he was there.
“You don’t have to stay the whole time.” The words were pulled from her almost painfully. Truth was she’d lose it if he tried to leave.
He grinned. “I’m not going anywhere so save your breath.”
“Four hours is a long time.”
“I don’t have anywhere else to be. I brought my computer and headphones. Figure I can write my lyrics here as easily as at home.”
“That chair looks uncomfortable.”
He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Next time, I’ll bring a pillow.” He flipped her hand over and pried her fingers open as he laid his palm flat against hers. “Tell me what you need, Zoey.”
She frowned. “I’m fine.”
He scoffed and gave her a sad smile. “No, you’re not. You’re sitting there trying not to freak out. So tell me what you need. A pep talk? Peace and quiet? A quickie?”
She laughed. “The quickie sounds tempting.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’d put that goddamn IV in my own chest if I could.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “I know you would.”
For the first time, she imagined how she’d feel if the roles were reversed. What if it was Robbie who’d been diagnosed with cancer? What if she was sitting in that horrible hard chair while he lay here in the recliner having the chemo pumped into his body? She’d hate it. Hate the helplessness, the worry. God, just the idea of him suffering put an unbearable ache in her gut. Both chairs in this room sucked.
Her eyelids began to feel heavy. “The nurse said the medicine would make me drowsy.”
“You sleepy?”
She nodded. “A little. Robbie?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you sing to me?” When he was first learning how to play guitar, he’d drag her into the garage or his bedroom or to a quiet place in the park and perform for her. Asking for her opinion of his voice or the lyrics to a song he’d written or just to show off. She’d loved every minute of it, always enjoying those quiet moments with him strumming the guitar, his voice soothing all the rough spots inside her away.
Her happy place.
“Here?”
She looked around. They were the only two people in the small room, separated from the others by thin walls and a curtained door. Even if his voice carried, she didn’t think there was a person in this place who wouldn’t be comforted by Robbie’s singing.
“Please.”
“I play the guitar better than I sing. You know that.”
“Liar. Mooching for compliments?”
He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. And as always, you play hard to get. Fine. Let me think of something to sing.”
He was quiet for a moment and she could imagine him filing through the thousands of songs in his head, trying to find the perfect one. She had no doubt whatever he chose, it would be the exact one she needed to hear.
“Okay. I know you like this one. Wish I had my guitar.” He sang softly at first. Zoey recognized the song the second he started. She’d been right. He’d found the perfect song to calm her down. He sang “Something in the Way She
Similar Books
