“Lila, what is the surgery you’re having?” When she didn’t comment on his change of subject, his chest tightened.
“The tumor is laying against my frontal lobe.”
He looked down at her, wishing he’d paid more attention in health class.
Tears brimmed her eyes, and her quiet voice shook as she continued, “There’s a chance the surgery will permanently damage my memory.”
His breath caught. What did that mean? “How much… what part of your memory?”
He didn’t know much more than the basics of the brain’s functions, but she said the doctors would be more sure when they went in, and there was a chance it could be her long-term memory. He couldn’t breathe. The pressure around his chest grew.
“You might forget me?” he finally managed to ask.
“Yes.”
14
Tuesday
Bright light filtered into Lila’s room as someone slid the curtains open. She yanked the blankets up over her head and rolled to her side, putting her back to the window. Behind her, the bed dipped down.
“Mom, not today,” she groaned. “My head is killing me.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry,” a voice that most definitely did not belong to her mother said. He quickly got off the bed and went to close the curtains.
When he returned, she moved to her back. “What are you doing here?”
Gavin sat beside her, the image of relaxation. His hands clasped behind his head, where he leaned against the headboard, and his ankles crossed out in front of him. Everything about his pose screamed nonchalance, but there was a tension there as well. She could see it in his shoulders—in the way he looked down to where she laid on her pillow.
Slowly, she pushed herself into a sitting position. She tried to hide the wince of pain, but he saw and immediately reached out to help her. They’d released her from the hospital that morning. The fever had gone down a couple hours after arriving Sunday evening, but they’d kept her an extra thirty-six hours to make sure it stayed level and to help ease her pain.
“I’m fine,” Lila told Gavin, leaning in close. The door opened, startling them both apart. With a hand to her heart, she yelled, “Mom!”
Her mom chuckled but came in and turned on a small lamp. Balanced on one hand was a small tray with two of everything. The smell of French toast made Lila’s mouth water. As her mom placed the tray on the bed, she asked, “Did you take your medicine?”
Lila looked down, shaking her head. “Not yet.”
Gavin’s fingers gently covered hers. Even after everything the past couple days, the touch still surprised her.
Her mom smiled. “Well, there’s food for both of you and some juice. That’ll help with the nausea.”
“Thanks,” Lila said.
“I’m home for the day, so let me know if you need anything.” She kissed the top of Lila’s head and started to walk away. At the door, she paused, turned, and gave them a pointed look. “Keep the door open.”
“Mom!” Lila hissed.
Gavin chuckled at her side. “Will do, Mrs. Weston.”
Satisfied, she left them alone. Lila covered her heated cheeks with her palms, refusing to look back around. Gavin stood to get under the covers then pulled the tray to his lap. She finally faced him and rolled her eyes at the smirk waiting for her.
“Shut up.” Grabbing one of the forks, she cut off a piece of French toast and jammed it in her mouth. Around the food, she said, “You never answered. What are you doing here?”
“Can’t I just come to visit?”
She raised a brow at him, trying to fight a smile.
He sighed. “I thought maybe we could check something off the list.”
Lila swallowed. “I’m not feeling up to an adventure today…”
Grinning, he reached over and grabbed the controller from the nightstand. “Which is why I thought it would be the perfect day to stay in bed and watch movies.”
Gavin couldn’t focus on the movie. It was their third or fourth of the day—he wasn’t even sure what number they were on. The singing animated characters could not hold his attention. Not while he sat in bed holding Lila. He’d dreamed about moments like that for years.
“Stop staring at me,” she said without taking her eyes from the TV.
He saw the corner of her mouth quirk up, and he leaned forward to kiss it. She turned, holding his gaze for a long moment before pulling him close once more. As she tugged him over her, sliding down in the bed to lie flat, he froze. He hovered above her. Her bright blue eyes stared up at him with her pink hair flared out across the pillow. That was all he’d wanted for so long.
But he couldn’t move.
The image of her in the hospital bed flashed through his mind. She wasn’t sick at that point—she’d said she felt better—but he still saw the exhaustion. The fear. She’d looked small and vulnerable, and he hated it. He hated the amount of pain she’d lived with the past few months. The thought of her upcoming surgery twisted his stomach into knots.
“Gavin?”
He wanted to kiss away the worry lines and the slight frown forming. He wanted to hold her against him and never let go.
Instead, he pushed himself back to his knees. Her eyes widened a fracture, and the hurt that ran through them tore at his heart. She sat up, not speaking. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment.
“This is why I didn’t tell anyone.” She wrapped her arms around herself and looked away.
The guilt struck him hard. With gentle fingers, he tilted her chin back up to face him. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers once before pulling back. Still holding onto her, he said, “I have wanted this—you—for so long. That hasn’t changed.”
“Then, why?”
He heard the unspoken words. Why was he pulling away? Why
