Everything felt normal.

The same.

Only it wasn’t.

I could be dying, and Blake—he had no idea. I have cancer. The words played in my head, but they sounded wrong. I think I might have cancer. That sounded better but not great. Not reassuring. Not the way it should be. He had the right to know, especially now. But I could barely breathe at the thought of how it would hurt him. A bitter laugh escaped, and I tried to reason with myself. He knew it could happen. It was not my fault.

Before I had a chance to find the right words, his voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “What are you doing out here?” He slid the balcony door closed behind him and took a seat opposite me. “So?” he asked, reaching out for my arm to pull me to him.

I pulled away, wanting to be face-to-face so I could see his reaction when I told him the truth.

He sensed my mood and leaned in closer, his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes locked with mine. “What’s going on, babe?”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Blake?”

He let out a bitter laugh and leaned back in his chair. “Wow. One night, and you’ve already changed your mind.”

“I haven’t changed my mind, but I’m giving you a chance to change yours.”

“I don’t want to change my mind, Chloe. What’s this about?”

“I just want to make sure that you’re sure. That you know about—”

“The cancer? Yes, I know about it. And I still wanna marry you, so what’s your next excuse?” He skimmed over the subject as if it didn’t mean anything.

“It’s not an excuse. It’s a reality.”

“One that I already knew before I fell in love with you, before I asked you to marry me. Chloe . . .” He sighed and leaned forward again. “What’s really going on here?”

I sucked in a breath and let the words leave me. “I could have cancer, Blake.”

“Like I said, I already knew that. It doesn’t—”

“No, Blake. I mean now. I could have cancer now.”

Blake

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. And even though they were clear, formed, premeditated, I still found myself asking, “What?”

She nodded slowly. “If you want to take it back, now’s your chance.”

I got up and started pacing, too edgy to stay in my seat. A million questions passed through my mind. She stood behind me and placed her hand on my back. “Blake?”

I flinched.

I fucking flinched.

I didn’t mean to—because I knew she’d take it as a rejection.

Her sob was enough to make me turn around. She was halfway to the door before I caught her arm. “I’m sorry.” I pulled her into me, holding her close. “I’m just trying to process everything, okay? I’m not . . . I’m not taking anything back, Chloe. I promise that’s not what this is about. I just need time. You need to talk me through this.” I pulled back and tilted her head up to look at me. “I’m just scared. And I don’t want to be. I’m supposed to be the strong one—the one to hold you up. And I’m crumbling because I’m so fucking scared of what you’re saying right now.”

“I’m scared, too,” she whispered.

My eyes snapped shut as her shaky hand guided mine to her left breast. “Do you feel it?”

She hadn’t stopped crying since we came in from the balcony. I didn’t console her, I couldn’t. On the inside, I was crying, too.

She told me that she had discovered it the day of the “night that never happened.” That was why she’d acted the way she had. Josh had been right; she’d gotten scared.

I nodded as I felt the lump, like thick skin, close to her underarm.

Her voice came out a shudder when she spoke. “I always knew there might be a chance—that this might happen—but I never prepared myself emotionally.” She let out another sob and pulled away from my hand, closing her robe as she did. “I never got tested, Blake. I’m sorry.” She sat on the bed and let her head fall into her hands.

I kneeled in front of her, stroking her hair.

“I never thought that I’d have someone like you to explain that decision to. And now it’s too late. Now you have to deal with it, too,” she sobbed. She gazed up, and shook her head, her eyes wild as they bore into mine. “Blake, you can’t deal with this. You’re eighteen. You shouldn’t have to deal with a dying fiancée.” She clasped the ring and began to slide it off her finger.

I covered her hands. “Stop! I’m sorry, Chloe. I am. But you can’t do this. You can’t take away your answer. You said yes, and you meant yes. I told you the other night, if you push me away—if you do that again—I’m leaving, and I meant it.” It was an empty threat. One I had absolutely no intention of keeping. I would never walk away from her. Not now, and not even then.

“Blake, you can’t possibly still want to marry me. Not now.”

“No,” I answered truthfully. “Not now. But afterwards. After you fight this . . . after you’ve beaten this . . . after you come out on the other side, then we’ll do it. Promise me you’ll still want me then?”

She laughed and cried, all at the same time.

I pulled on her hands so she was straddling me and placed her hand over my heart, my other hand skimming the lump on her breast. “What I feel in here,” I covered her hand on my chest and, with the other, stroked my fingers across the thick skin, “completely outweighs what I feel here. The love I have for you . . . Chloe.” I sighed. “What’s happening now, it doesn’t change a thing. Do you understand me? Not a damn thing is going to take this away from us. Ever.”