Page 91 of Now or Never

twenty-eight

Adam grabbed Chelsea some snacks from the cafeteria—water, tissues, a turkey sandwich, chips, and chocolate. When he returned to where he’d left her a few moments later, she was still staring at the screen with Ben’s patient number, waiting for the status to change.

“Here,” he said, putting all the food in front of her. “Eat.”

She just shook her head, soft hair fluttering around her face, red-rimmed eyes glued to the screen.

“He’s going to be fine. When he comes out, he’ll need you. Eat something.”

She finally peeled her eyes off the screen and pierced him with them. They’d filled again with more tears threatening to drop.

He cleared his throat, looked down at the sandwich, and started unwrapping the cellophane. “I had three surgeries here,” he said, trying to distract them both.

“On what?” she asked, taking a tiny piece of turkey from the side of the sandwich and bringing it to her lips.

“My eyes,” he said.

He opened the water bottle and slid it across the table. She was going to get dehydrated with all the tears.

“I almost lost my vision after my accident. My retina was detached, my orbital bone was crushed, and I had glass in my eye from the windshield. It took a few tries to get me back together.”

Chelsea’s posture stiffened. “Your family must have been a wreck.”

Memories of the days following his accident came back too fast for Adam to stop them. His dad in the corner of the hospital room, folded in on himself and crying, which was a terrifying sight. His uncle throwing things and raging, which was just as out of character and equally terrifying.

Adam blew out a breath. “Yeah. Actually,” he paused, not sure whether he really wanted to talk about his mom, but ultimately, the words tumbled out without him being able to stop them. “My mom had surgeries here, too. I remember waiting in this room with my dad as he tried to make himself look okay as his whole world fell down around him. She only had two operations. Then she spent two months here doing chemo, but . . .” Too much emotion bubbled up. He swallowed it back. “Ultimately, it didn’t work, and she moved back home.”

Chelsea’s warm hand came across the table, took his, and squeezed. “How long did you have after that?”

“Thirty-four days.”

Chelsea nodded once before more tears slid down her cheeks, and she brushed them away with the back of her free hand. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

Adam swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the emotions rising. He hated bringing it up, preferred to keep it buried. But maybe it would help for her to hear it. Maybe she would understand why he couldn’t keep being with her.

“I found her,” he said.

The three words hung in the air for an eternity between them. She stared at him, waiting, so he went on.

“Every morning, I’d run to her room as soon as I woke up. Each day, she looked worse and worse. The last morning, I went in, she didn’t . . . She wasn’t . . .”

“She was gone.”

The heaviness in Adam’s chest was suffocating him. He swallowed, trying to clear it. “That’s going to happen to me.”

Chelsea shook her head. “Life is unpredictable.”

He wasn’t sure whether she was saying it to be nice or whether she didn’t really get it, but he had to make her understand. “No. Itwillhappen to me. And I can’t let someone find me like I found my mom.”

Chelsea squeezed his hand. “There just aren’t guarantees in life like that.”

“Thisisa guarantee, Chelsea,” he said, feeling the pain of her pulling her hand away. “I’m on borrowed time.”

Chelsea held his eyes, staring for a long while before her eyes softened and her head tilted off to the side. She sucked in a deep breath, then said, “I love you.”

Adam violently shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

“I know everything about you, your health, your past, your fears, and I still love you.”

---