Sometimes, there’s a look in her eye that I don’t fully understand. She’s longing for something she doesn’t have. I’m not sure if it’s home or something else.

She’s learned to sign in the past two weeks, and she can carry on conversations. She’s actually really good at it, and she’s found that spelling isn’t as hard for her when she’s fingerspelling as it is on paper. Something about the spacing of the letters, she says.

She’s sitting on the couch now with Hayley in her arms. She’s holding a book upside down, and telling a story she has made up. The corners of my lips tip up and I can’t bite back my grin. She fits so well into my family.

She still busks in the subway every day while I work at the tattoo shop. And last Friday night, the band encouraged her up on the stage when the crowd started chanting for her. They passed a hat through the audience and she got to keep the money they put in it. It was just over one hundred dollars and she only played one or two songs.

She saves every dime of the money she has made. We won’t let her pay rent. My brothers and I had a frank discussion about it and we all agreed. She does too much for us to charge her rent. She cooks often. And she can’t seem to keep from cleaning, even though we tell her not to.

Pete’s on the couch across from Kit with a girl he met a couple of weeks ago. They’ve been necking for about ten minutes. I’m standing in the kitchen with Paul. I jerk my thumb toward them and Paul scowls. He says something to Pete, who looks up sheepishly. He adjusts his junk and lifts the girl up, taking her down the hallway toward his room. Paul yells at him, and he comes back and takes a few condoms from the drawer, grins and goes to his room.

“Great,” Sam grouses. “I’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

Paul smiles. “There are two beds in there.”

“Yuck,” Sam says. “I don’t want to have to hear them.”

At least the boy is getting some, I sign.

Kit scolds me with a glance from across the room. I rue the day I taught her to speak sign language. I can’t keep anything a secret anymore. I shrug at her and she grins.

You would be getting some too if you’d quit being such a prude, she signs to me.

Did you really just call me a prude? I ask as I stalk toward her. She sets Hayley to the side and jumps over the back of the couch. By now, she knows I’m coming for her.

She darts around the sofa and dodges back and forth, trying to avoid my hands. But I catch the tail of her shirt and jerk her to me. Linking my arm around her waist, I pick her up and take her to our room, slamming the door behind us. I toss her onto the bed and she bounces, laughing at me. “Did you really just call me a prude?” I ask, using my voice.

“No, definitely not.” She laughs as I tickle her and she squirms in my arms.

“I think you did.” I keep tickling her, because I know it drives her crazy.

“Prove it,” she says. She’s signing the whole time she’s talking. So, I don’t miss anything with her anymore. She grabs my hands to keep me from tickling her.

I growl as I press my lips to her throat. “Don’t tempt me,” I warn.

She taps my shoulder until I look up at her. “I want to tempt you. I want to tempt you really bad.” She throws her head back on the last word and I can feel her throat vibrating as she growls. “You’re making me crazy.”

I chuckle. “I think that’s my line.”

“How much longer will you make me wait?”

I wake up with her wrapped around me every f**king morning. I go to sleep with her in my arms every night. I take long, cold showers every day, just so I can take some of the pressure off. She’s making me nuts. But she’s not ready for me yet. She’s not. She knows it. I know it.

I change into a pair of jeans while she watches. I don’t even try to hide my erection from her anymore. She knows it’s there. She knows how much I want her. I think she knows how much I love her. I feel certain she loves me just as much. I just don’t know why she’s still hiding. “I have to work tonight at Bounce. Are you coming with me?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I have a date with Hayley to read a book.” She doesn’t look at me.

No she doesn’t. “Paul has a date tonight and he’s taking Hayley with him,” I remind her.

“Oh.” She avoids my gaze.

“You’re worried about Matt, aren’t you?” I ask her. I frame her face with my hands and look into her eyes.

She nods. “He’s been sleeping too much. I don’t think it’s good.”

We all dance around the fact that Matt will be going back to the doctor two days from now to find out his prognosis. Everyone but Kit. She thinks about it a lot, I think. I try not to think about it at all. “You want to stay home so you can keep an eye on him?” I run a hand down the length of her hair and press a kiss to her forehead.

“Would you mind?” she asks. She looks hopeful.

“You know Pete’s here,” I remind her.

“Pete’s knocking boots in the bedroom. How’s he going to know if Matt’s ok or not?”

She’s right. “Thanks for staying,” I say. I kiss her forehead again. “I’m taking Sam with me. Send for me if you need me for anything, ok?”

She nods. She flops back on the bed and I want to climb on top of her. But I have to go. Sam beats on the wall. I can feel the vibration of it. “What do you want, Sam?” I ask.

“Her,” he says, grinning. He waggles his brows at Kit.

I punch his shoulder. “She’s taken.”

Kit grins, shaking her head. She has gotten used to all of us. I walk over to her and tip her head up to look into her eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

“Count on it,” she says.

Emily

I step closer to Matt’s door, listening intently for signs of life. He’s been really tired for the past few days, and I’m worried for him. I’m really worried for him. And for Logan and the rest of them. None of them have come to terms with the fact that Matt is dying. They all overlook it, like pretending it’s not going to happen is going to help him.

His voice, weak and tired, funnels through the crack in the door. “Don’t just stand there breathing hard. Come on in.”

I open the door and smile at him. “You could not hear me breathing.”

He chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound. “I heard your footsteps. You should learn to be more stealthy. Like Paul. He came in last night and stood over me, watching me breathe for about an hour.” He adjusts, fluffing a pillow and jamming it behind his head. “He thinks I was asleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell him you were awake?” I ask. “You two could have talked.”

He harrumphs. “He doesn’t want to talk. He wants to fix everything. But I’m afraid I can’t be fixed.”

“You don’t know that.”

He heaves a sigh. “I know it.”

I can’t say anything past the lump in my throat.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

I still can’t find my tongue, so I nod.

“That good, huh?” he rolls toward me, his arm beneath his pillow.

“Matt,” I start. But I stop, bite my lower lip and shake my head. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“You still running Logan in circles?” he asks.

I bite back a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughs. “It’s good for him. Keep up the good work.” He narrows his eyes. “He’s never had to work for anyone before. Women came easily for him.”

My face floods with heat when I realize what he said.

He laughs. “Yeah, that, too.” He points across the room. “You remember those letters I told you about?” he asks.

I nod. I don’t want to talk about letters. Because when I deliver the letters, he’ll be gone.

“They’re in my top drawer. My dresser.” He nods his head in that direction. “When the time is right, be sure they get them?”

I nod. “I will. I promise.”

“There’s one for you too.”

I don’t want mine. “Ok.”

He takes my hand in his and squeezes it tightly. I can tell the action takes a lot out of him. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asks.

I shrug. “Sit here with you.”

He smiles at me. And I see so much of Logan in him that it hurts. He rolls to the edge of the bed and lifts himself up to sit. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

I nod, taking his hand in mine to help him to his feet. He lets me, but he groans as he gets up. “You sure you can do this?” I ask.

“Remember when I told you I was going to suck every minute out of life that I could?” He stares at me. I am a little worried that he’s trying to gather enough energy to walk into the living room.

“Let’s go suck at life,” I say. “Do you want some popcorn?” I ask over my shoulder. He’s following me.

“Why not?” he asks flippantly. “Popcorn and I’m going to snuggle with Logan’s girl.” His voice is farther behind me. But he’s coming, so I start the popcorn. The steady pop, pop, pop has started when I realize he hasn’t followed me into the kitchen.

There’s a thud in the hallway, and I jump. “Matt?” I ask, walking back in that direction. But Matt’s lying on the floor. He’s drooling, and his body is convulsing. “Oh, shit,” I say. “Matt!” I yell. I roll him onto his side, because I heard that’s what you do when someone convulses. Or maybe it’s that you’re supposed to roll him onto his back. Shit, shit, shit. I don’t know. “Pete!” I yell.

Pete opens his door, he’s in a pair of boxers and he drags his shirt over his head. “What?” he asks. Then he sees Matt lying on the floor. “What the fuck?” he says, and he drops down beside Matt.

“Go call 911,” I say calmly. When he sits there and doesn’t move, I shove him and yell in his face. “Go call 911!”

He shakes out of his fear induced stupidity and runs to the phone.

He gives them the address and stays on the phone with them until the ambulance arrives. He gets dressed while he talks to them, stepping into his jeans in front of me, but I don’t care. His girlfriend leaves. She’s not worth the air she’s breathing, apparently.

Matt calms and I lift his head into my lap. I wipe the spittle from his face with my sleeve and brush his hair back from his forehead. He’s still. Too still. I hadn’t realized how much hair he’d lost with the chemo. It’s thinner than I thought it was. I brush across his face. “Not yet. It’s too soon,” I whisper to him.

I follow the paramedics as they carry him downstairs. “One of you can ride along,” the paramedic says.

Pete looks at me and says, “I need to get my brothers.” He runs a heavy hand through his buzz cut.

He knows where they are and I don’t know how to get there. None of them carry cell phones because it’s not in their budget.

“Go get some shoes,” I say. He looks down at his na**d feet and nods.

He shoves me into the ambulance and they close the door behind us. The rest of the world falls away, and I can no longer hear the sounds of the street or the blaring horns. All I can hear is the unsteady beat of Matt’s heart on the monitor. Every time it stutters, mine flips in my chest, my breath leaving me. I lean over and take Matt’s hand.

“It would be better if you don’t touch him,” they say.

I nod and sit back, buckling the seat belt in the jump seat they pointed me toward.

My hands are shaking and I don’t know what to do with myself. They start IV’s and look into his eyes and do a lot of things I don’t understand.

He doesn’t wake up. I worry that he never will.

Paul gets to the hospital first, and he’s carrying Hayley on his hip. She’s frantic, and she wants to know why they can’t finish their date. I hold out my hands and she comes to me, settling against my chest. “What happened?” Paul asked.

“He just fell down in the hallway and started to shake,” I try to explain. But I’m trying to be strong since I’m holding Hayley.

“Can we see him?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Not yet. They took him back and they’re working on him.”

Paul goes to the payphone and drops in some change. He turns his back to me and talks for a minute. Then he comes and takes Hayley back from my arms. “Now we wait,” he says.

Hayley pats his cheek, and I see tears well up in his eyes. “Where’s Matt?” Hayley asks.

“Matt’s with the doctors,” he explains, blinking hard.

“Dey gonna make him all betta?” she asks. She’s following his gaze with hers, not letting him off the hook. She frowns when he doesn’t answer.

“They’re going to work hard to make him better,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” Paul chokes out. I nod. I can’t say more than that. Hayley holds out her arms to me again, and I take her to sit down. We read upside down books until a woman comes rushing through the doors. She runs to Paul. Her hair is up in a ponytail and she’s almost as tall as he is. But she’s stunning. Hayley has Paul’s hair color and eyes, but everything else about her is her mother.

She leans into Paul to her and he hugs her tightly. I hear them murmuring to one another but I can’t hear what they’re saying. She comes to me and takes Hayley in her arms. “Thank you,” she says.