Because I'm a coward, and I would rather have whatever time we have left together, than have this whole thing end before I'm ready to say goodbye.
Chapter forty
Avery
"Youokay?"Imurmur,lips brushing her temple.
She nods, but I don’t let it stop there.
"Really okay?" I press. "No dizziness? Muscle aches? Numbness?"
She goes quiet for a second, then she exhales. "No dizziness. There’s some weakness in my legs, but nothing I can’t handle."
I nod, already adjusting our position, shoving the spare pillows under her knees, and pulling the blanket up to relieve whatever pressure I can. "Tell me if anything changes."
She looks up at me, eyes wide and soft and full of something I know she isn't ready to say out loud. "I knew you wouldn’t forget, I just didn’t expect you to…care as much as you do."
I press my forehead to hers. "Of course I care." I care more than she's ready to hear.
She exhales again, like that truth let something go inside her, like she can finally rest.
So I hold her while she does.
"What are your plans for the next few days?" I ask after a long silence between us. Olive’s eyes flutter open ever so slightly at the sound of my voice. My fingers roam lazily over her skin, tracing the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, everything I can reach without moving. But when I brush the top of her thigh, she gently pushes my hand away.
I shift, resting my hand on her stomach instead, but she turns slightly, pulling away just enough that I feel the distance.
I know exactly what she’s doing, and I know why she’s doing it: her injection sites.
The ones that leave marks, lumps, bumps and bruises on her skin for days—sometimes weeks—after.
Orlando used to get them when he first started his medication.
Even now, I see it. The discoloration on the backs of his arms when he wears a singlet, the dents in his stomach when he trains shirtless with me.
I always knew they still bothered him. Shit like that doesn’t just disappear.
But with Olive…I don’t know.
I guess I wanted to believe she’d be spared. That her body would take it all without flinching, without pain. That she’d come out the other side untouched.
I hate it down to my very core.
Logically, I know that it was stupid of me to make that type of assumption, stupid of me to think of her as unbreakable. I just hoped, deep down, that she wouldn’t be as impacted as he was, because he took it really fucking hard. She seems to be braving it so well.
I guess I subconsciously told myself that her body could handle it, because I didn’t want to imagine it for her any other way.
Given how she flinched at the lightest brush of my fingertips, I’d bet the mask she wears is harder than she’ll ever admit.
She inches away from me ever so slightly, but I notice, because my hands miss the feeling of her skin against them. Miss the warmth she exudes beside me, even though she’s still there.
"It’s from my meds," she says with a sigh, guiding my hand away from her body altogether, and I hate myself for making her feel like having those scars is something to hide, something to be embarrassed about. "They make me feel a little self-conscious. It sometimes looks like I’ve hurt myself somehow, with how red and swollen my skin can get. I don’t know if everybody has these types of reactions or if I’m allergic to them, but I guess it’s something I have to ask my doctor at my next appointment."
Her sigh is deep enough to take me with her. Over the edge and somewhere far, far away, to a universe where she doesn’t have to go through this. Somewhere where she doesn’t have to worry and wonder what her life will be like in ten years’ time.
I grip her chin gently, tilting her head to look at me. "It’s not you. Orlando used to react badly to it all when he first started, too." I place a kiss gently on her lips.
She pulls away, her hazel eyes staring into mine. There’s hurt there, a bit of fear, too, and I wish more than anything that I could take it all away from her. "And now?"
