Page 37 of Unraveled

“It was very thoughtful,” I told him.

My brother gave me a rueful smile. “I’d love to take the credit, and hey, I was tempted to get you flowers, but you said not to. These are from Kellan. He met me outside to drop them off along with the candy bar bouquet. I think he made that himself.”

I was thankful Kellan hadn’t come in. He, at least, had listened to my request that I’d need some time. “He’s crazy,” I murmured.

“Perhaps. Then again, I’ve never yet seen him act insane.”

Now that it was only the two of us, I confessed my fear. “I don’t want him to do these things because he feels trapped by guilt over learning I now have cancer.” It would be terrible to have him pity me. And I couldn’t take a chance at falling head over heels for him. Not now. Not when he could pull away at some critical moment. I didn’t do needy, I didn’t do desperate, but I could feel myself vulnerable to both emotions if I were to let him all the way in.

Russ took a chair by my bed and looked me in the eye. “These are not the actions of someone who is trapped. They are the actions of a man who cares about you. I’m aware it won’t be easy to navigate a new relationship while going through cancer treatments, but don’t think I didn’t see the way you lit up at the mention of his name. I’m not sure, nor do I wish to know, the details of how you spent this last week together, but I say give it a chance. He’s a good guy, and you’re the best sister I’ve ever known.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m your only sister.”

“Makes it easy for you, I’ll admit.”

We shared a toothy grin before I sighed. “I don’t want him seeing me like this.”

“I can’t blame you. Your hair is a nightmare, and you have chocolate on your face.”

I winced when the laughter bubbled up because it hurt my incisions. “You really won’t let me feel sorry for myself, will you?”

“As if you wouldn’t do the same for me. A year from now, you’ll be thankful you gave it a chance. You don’t have to see him right away. But wipe your face and at least text him.”

How could I argue with that?

Chapter Eleven

Layla

The next couple days in the hospital made me anxious to get back to my own place. I had excellent nurses and was well cared for, but I couldn’t wait to be in my own bed and get a good night’s sleep, without the sound of monitors and other hospital noise.

My release from the hospital finally happened on Monday afternoon. My mother hadn’t brought up trying to care for me again—probably thanks to my father’s interference. I was grateful the subject had been dropped.

Nevertheless, I was on edge. I’d been putting on an act for everyone. I knew if I didn’t smile and seem optimistic, they wouldn’t have let me leave a day ahead of schedule. Instead, I would have been monitored to ensure my mental health was on par with my physical well-being. They’d given me information on breast cancer support groups, both in-person and online versions, but I wasn’t ready for that. I could hardly verbalize how I was feeling, let alone share it. I needed to grieve in private.

The moment I stepped into my apartment, I practically pushed my brother out the door. He’d been amazing, but not even he could help with the new emotions I was experiencing.

“You sure you want me to go?” he asked for the tenth time.

“Yes. I’ll call if I have any issues. I have a nurse coming by in a couple of hours.”

He was reluctant to leave. “I could stay until she gets here.”

I walked from the front door over to my couch. There was a total of eight hundred square feet in the one-bedroom apartment, which made it easy to travel from the kitchen behind the living room to the bedroom down the hall. I was slow but steady on my feet. “No, Russell. I’m good. I need some time to myself.”

“When are you seeing Kellan?”

“I’m not sure. I told him I’d let him know once I was feeling up to it.” Even as my body healed, I could feel my mental state deteriorating. Kellan’s text messages over the last couple days had made me smile, but I wasn’t ready to see him in person. Hiding out in my apartment sounded like a much better alternative. “I’m really fine. I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll go.” Russ walked over and kissed me on the forehead. “But on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I need at least two text messages a day to show me you’re all right. Preferably one when you wake up and one before bed. Before you argue, think of the alternative: Mom calling you constantly. This way you report to me, and I tell her not to come over and smother you. Deal?”

He might be my little brother, but he certainly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Besides, he’d been incredibly supportive. Denying him this request wasn’t possible. “Deal. I’ll agree to your welfare-check texting. I’ll even send you one tonight before I go to bed.”

“Good. Love you, sis.”