Page 1 of Surrender
Chapter One
DARCY
Sixteen Years Old
“It’ll be okay,” Mom croaked before clearing her throat and trying again to get the words out without breaking up. “It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”
I wasn’t sure who she thought she was trying to convince, but the tears streaking down her cheeks didn’t exactly help with the sell.
My brother, James, scoffed and shook his head. “I have cancer, Mom,” he announced, as if we all hadn’t just spent the whole ride home from the doctors just now processing this information. “I think technically that is the definition ofnot okay.” He forced a laugh as he slumped back into the sofa, but the sound was hollow and lifeless. It didn’t come from his stomach like his laugh usually did. The kind that was so full and almost over the top, you couldn’t help but join in.
My parents held onto each other, Mom wrapped in Dad’s vice-like embrace as she sniffled, both watching James cautiously for any signs that he might crack.
I was pretty sure they wouldn’t see any, though.
My brother didn’t crack.
He was strong.
He was resilient.
And while he had been my hero since the day I was born, and I loved him more than words could explain, there were days I wondered how he managed to fit his damn ego through our front door. Even the past few months that he hadn’t been feeling well, he never took a break from football practice, he didn’t drop a single grade, and he still managed to devour an entire box ofcereal in the mornings without fail.
That was why, up to this moment, I hadn’t even considered that the pale skin and dark bags developing under his eyes were something that wouldn’t simply pass with time. Part of me had even been slightly amused that he might be forced to take a break, to have a rest, to be a normal human being for once instead of Superman.
That was until I heard that one word today.
Terminal.
It rang in my head.
Over and over.
I wasn’t stupid.
I knew what came next.
I’d have to watch James slowly deteriorate and become a shell of himself until eventually, the memories I had of him melted away, replaced by pain and heartache.
“No,” I croaked, leaping from my chair and hurrying toward the staircase.
“Darcy!” James called after me, the sofa squeaking as he struggled to get to his feet. “Darcy, stop!”
Dad grabbed his arm, holding him back with ease. “Leave her,” he whispered, and my brother let out an agitated sigh as I stomped up the stairs and down the hall to my room, fighting the burning in my throat.
I ducked inside the dark room, slamming the door behind me and pressing my back hard against it. It felt as if the weight of the world was sitting on my chest, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find a full breath of air. Each short, jagged gasp caught in my throat, never quite making it to my lungs, and slowly, the room around me began to spin as I grew more and more desperate for oxygen.
“You gotta breathe.”
The deep, familiar timbre was barely above a whisper, but itstill made me leap at least a foot off the floor, not at all helping the looming panic attack that had me in its grasp. I blinked a couple of times, bringing into focus the shadowed figure who stood across the room, his shoulder leaning into the window frame and his arms folded across his chest. His form was outlined by the last few remnants of daylight as dusk darkened the sky, making it almost impossible to make out his face within the dark silhouette.
But I knew his voice.
I knew his body.
And his presence was one that instantly soothed me.
Nathaniel Brooks had been climbing through my bedroom window since seventh grade.
