Maggienevercomplained. I never noticed her pain, and the realization that she’s been keeping this from me hurts.
I’ve opened up to her about everything over these past two months—my mother, my reasons for picking up fighting, my insecurities and fears around always appearing happy in this town, my ambitions and dreams. But she’d kept this from me, hiding something so huge that greatly impacts her life until it’s forced to come out in the most painful way possible, and it hurts that she didn’t trust me with this more than I want to admit.
It’s a forceful reminder of just how differently we see each other’s roles in our lives.
Have I not made it clear that I’m here for her, no matter what?
But maybe I’m pointing fingers in the wrong direction. Maybe it’s me she didn’t trust enough to open to.
That thought stings.
I perch on the edge of the bed, and though I know she’s aware of my presence, she doesn’t turn to face me.
“I thought it was just the usual symptoms,” she says, her voice soft and heavy. “The doctor said it can feel like that—just general fatigue, feeling unwell. I had some swelling last night while I was working at the hospital, but that happens sometimes. I take all my meds, I’ve been going to that new Pilates studio and working out, eating right… but no matter what I do, my kidneys are still failing.”
She finally turns toward me, and the look on her face shatters me—a sadness so deep it makes me want to change everything, to fix it all for her.
“I had dreams, you know,” her voice wavers as she looks down. “After my mom died, my dad always said,‘Set goals, make plans so that you have something to look forward to; so that you don’t get stuck thinking about what you’ve lost.’So, I did. But then, this autoimmune condition blindsided me as a teenager, and I had to set new goals, new dreams—just to keep going. But Clay…” Her voice cracks as a tear slips down her cheek, and my hand instinctively reaches out, wiping it away. “I’m so fucking tired of setting dreams I may never reach.”
“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. This isn’t the end. We’re going to figure this out. Your dad said you can get a donor.” I pull her into my chest as she chokes out a sob, and then I feel it—the warm, wet tears soaking into my shirt as she weeps against me while I hold her.
“I’m sorry for not telling you,” she sobs. “I was supposed to leave for school in a week, and now… I’ll be here in the hospital, starting on dialysis. I won’t finish my program. I won’t get the job I’ve been dreaming of. I’ll just be…” She pulls back, her face streaked with tears, her hair sticking to her cheeks. I carefully tuck the strands behind her ear as she exhales shakily. “I’ll just be the sick girl again. A burden to my dad. I barely even remember my mom, but I wish she were here. I know she’d be a comfort. But I don’t even have that.”
“Stop. Don’t talk like that,” I say softly. “You still have your future. You stillhave me.”
She shakes her head and turns toward the window. “You know, I always wanted to be a mom. I know I’m young—probably too young by most people’s standards—but my mom was twenty-one years old when she had me and that was a dream of mine,” she sighs heavily. “And now, the doctor says there’s only a one percent chance I’ll be able to get pregnant while on dialysis.” Her voice drops lower as she shakes her head, “Guess there’s another dream I’ll have to give up.”
My heart clenches as I listen. She’s always been so full of life, and now, everything feels… fragile.
She turns back to me, eyes searching my face. “I didn’t keep this from you to hurt you, Clay. I didn’t want to feel like I needed to rely on anyone. I just wanted to feel… normal. To be a woman, not someone you had to take care of. To be strong and independent in my own right. But I knew if I told you, you’d look at me like this.” She gestures toward my face, and I know she’s right. I’m looking at her with fear, with sorrow now—but I can’t help it.
Because I love her. And I can’t live without her.
And this… this is tearing me apart.
Chapter 32 – Clay
The nurse reenters, her smile professional but tinged with empathy now.?
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we need to take Maggie for some additional scans to assess the extent of her kidney damage. We’ll also be meeting with the transplant team to get her on the registry and making a plan for dialysis. You’ll be able to visit her again in about two hours.”
I rise from the edge of the bed and lean down to kiss the top of her head gently. “I’ll be here when you get back,” I promise, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside of me.
She nods, still not meeting my gaze as I watch her be wheeled away down the hallway and out of sight.
I head back towards the lobby, feeling lost in my head, lost in the misery and find Chief Hollister seated calmly, his legs crossed, head tilted back, and eyes closed as if he’s sleeping.
“So, now you know,” he says with a sigh when I sit down.
I nod, catching his gaze as his eyes flutter open.
“This is why Maggie always mentions how worried you are about what she’ll do when you’re not around?” I ask.
He nods, his eyes closing again. “She has the chance to live a full life, but I worry this might hold her back. That people might hesitate to love her for fear of losing her.”
I understand now. Everything Maggie has said, everything the chief has told me—it all makes sense.
But I want to prove to Maggie that my love for her doesn’t end where my fear of losing her begins.
