Her hand tightens on mine as she cuts off, her voice breaking.
“What happened?” I ask instead. My head feels foggy. Heavy. “Where was I?”
Emmy looks down at our hands, locked together. “I was walking home from work, and you were walking up the middle of the street. In the… in the wrong direction.”
My mouth dries. “I forgot the way to the bar.”
She nods. “And the way home.”
Jesus.
I start pushing myself upright, wincing at the spikes that drive into my skull, but Emmy tugs me back down. “Where are you going?”
I shake my head. “I’m not doing this to you, Em.”
“That’s not what I asked.” She keeps hold of my hand. “Where are you going, Ben?”
I meet her eyes. “Away. Where you don’t have to watch this.”
“To another town?” she says quietly. “Another empty apartment?”
I flinch. “It’s easier that way.”
“Fuckeasier,” she snaps. “Easier for who? For you, on your own? Or for me, thinking of you out there without anyone to lean on?”
“For both of us,” I snap back. “I’m not doing this to you. End of story.”
“There are trials,” she starts, but I cut her off.
“No,” I say sharply. “No more trials. No more treatment.”
She takes a breath. “What treatment did you have? Surgery?”
I shake my head. “It was already too advanced. Jared… he tried everything, Em. Everything. And it broke him.”
I see the understanding in her parted lips. “You left him.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t.
“Ben,” she whispers raggedly. “You left him?”
Slowly, I nod. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me.” She stares at me. “God, Ben. He must be losing his mind—,”
“But he doesn’t have to watch.” I sink my head down into my hands, yanking on my hair. “And neither do you. Trust me. I’ve seen it, Em. I went to the support groups. I watched the numbers go down. Friends of mine, people I got to know, dying like fuckingdominos, one after the other after the other. And Jared - Jared nearly killed himself trying to fix me. He spent everything he had, gave up everything he was to try and find a fix that doesn’t exist. I amdying. I have months at best. Probably less.”
We both know there’s noprobablyabout it.
Her face almost crumples, then, before she inhales, straightening. “You’re not running this time.”
“You didn’t sign up for this.” My breathing is heavy. “This is not casual, Emmy.”
“Casual wasyourword. I never signed up for casual.” She leans forward, eyeing me until our foreheads are pressed together.
My cheeks feel damp.
“I signed up for you,” she whispers. “You’re not running, Ben.”
