Page 161 of Things I Wish I Said
My whole life I’ve been selfish, relentlessly chasing this dream, and for what?
So my mother could put her life on hold while I battle this disease?
My mom has wound up in a monumental amount of debt she might never recover from with nothing to show for it. She sacrificed and scraped and saved when she could have been selfish, because in the end it didn’t mean a damn thing.
I’m nothing. A nobody. All I am is an anchor around her neck, weighing her down.
Tears streak down my cheeks. More than six months of fighting cancer and this is the first time I cry. I don’t know if that makes me brave or stupid.
A cough rattles in my chest which I ignore until I can’t any longer, and it explodes like firecracker, tearing through me. Covering my mouth, I hack and sob at the same time, choking on phlegm and mucus which is made worse by the emotion tightening my throat.
I gasp for air, trying to calm down enough for the gnawing ache to subside.
I pull my hand away, completely spent. I feel like I’ve run a fucking marathon, rather than a short sprint, followed by a crying spree.
Something slick covers my palm as the taste of gunmetal fills my mouth.
A cold trickle of fear creeps down my spine, and when I glance down at my hand, I find it smeared with blood.
Chapter thirty-nine
GRAYSON
Mia Hamm, a soccerlegend, takes the stage and opens the card in front of her. Lifting her gaze, she calls out Ryleigh’s name, but she’s nowhere to be found.
Sweat beads my brow as the other winners glance my way.
An awkward silence follows as Mia scans the crowd, her smile fading when no one rises from their seats.
Where the hell is she?
I shift, craning my neck as I glance around me in search of Ryleigh, avoiding the pointed gazes of those around me.
I want to share this moment with her, to squeeze her hand as they call her name and watch her walk the stage. But she’s nowhere to be found.
I slink down in my seat, my mind racing faster than my heart. She went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago. What if something’s happened?
Another minute of silence passes, a murmur rippling around me.
“Ryleigh Sinclair? Are you here tonight?”
Fuck. I have no idea what to do. I want her to have that trophy, but it’s not like I can accept it for her, though the thought crosses my mind.
“Looks like she’s not here tonight,” Mia says, her tone uncertain. “We’ll accept this award on her behalf. Congratulations, Ryleigh!” Mia raises the silver spiral trophy, then leaves the stage at the same time I rise to my feet.
Tripping over the legs of the people beside me, I rush from our row, headed for the exit in the back while someone new takes the stage. They say something, and the crowd laughs, but I don’t catch it. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears as I plant my hands on the doors that lead to the foyer.
I burst into the hallway, heart galloping as I search both bathrooms with no signs of Ry. I spend twenty minutes, maybe more, checking every inch of the foyer and every hallway, every nook and cranny she might have escaped to until I’m out of options.
My lungs squeeze. The bitter taste of fear coats my tongue as I burst outside.
The photographers and crowds have mostly gone, the area surrounding the theater nearly empty.
I spend ten minutes more walking the perimeter of the building, and still nothing.
Fear pounds against my ribcage, a rabid animal trying to escape as I slide my phone from my pocket and dial her number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
Maybe she passed out, fell, and got hurt? Had a bad coughing jag and couldn’t catch her breath? They might have transported her to the hospital. But wherever she is, she’s alone.
