Page 93 of Things I Wish I Said
“I’ll text you.” I grin, knowing he’s rolling his eyes.
“Then I’ll call you.”
“Good luck at your game,” I say.
“Thanks. Later, Sinclair.”
I exhale and set my phone back on the nightstand, deciding on a cup of tea with honey to help with my cough, followed by a hot shower.
I make my way into the kitchen and go through the motions. I have to clear my throat several times to purge the phlegm, but I don’t give it much thought because my thoughts are on Grayson. I use the electric kettle to boil the water and pour it into a mug with a teabag, letting it steep before adding some honey.
I know Grayson is worried about hurting me. He’s used to hooking up with girls, and I know how he feels about dating and love and relationships. Even if his feelings weren’t clear, I can see how he’s keeping me at arm’s length. While I’m an open book, he rarely shares anything of significance about himself,and when he does, it’s in microscopic pieces. Maybe I could puzzle them together if I had enough of them, but I don’t.
He said his father left them, so I assume his parents are divorced, and it wasn’t amicable. If he’s going to George Mason to follow in his father’s footsteps, then I can also assume they were close once. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to talk about him. Maybe things ended poorly, maybe it got ugly. It would certainly explain why he doesn’t believe in happy endings where relationships are concerned.
I take my tea back to my bedroom, lost in thought. I know he lives with his mother, and it’s not lost on me that he’s never taken me to his house. Even though this wish is for my benefit and requires us to hang out here, more often than not, it still feels deliberate somehow. Like he’s avoiding it. Like the less he shares with me, the less he has to feel, and the more control he maintains.
I hold my face over the steam of my tea, breathing in the vapors and letting it open my aching lungs before I take a sip.
After what happened yesterday, I believe Grayson when he says he’s attracted to me. He’s simply worried about hurting me. Concerned I’ll want more, regardless of what my future looks like. Regardless of if I even have one.
But he’s wrong.
I know what this is, and I know what it isn’t.
Grayson is mine for the time being, even if only for a stupid wish.
Who knows what the future holds? I might never go to college or walk down the aisle one day. I might never have a serious boyfriend or experience the rush of a first date.
But I can have this.
This wish may have started as a way to convince my mother to allow me to go to the Gatorade awards, but maybe I can have this, too.
Maybe I can feel what it’s like to be a girl with a crush, if only for the rest of the summer.
Chapter twenty
RYLEIGH
I wait in Dr.Hammond’s office with Mom at my side. I’ve come to hate this office, completely loathe it. From the pale-blue paint to the cheerful prints on the wall and the potted plant in the corner. Everything about this room makes me want to vomit. Today, especially.
Mom and I barely talked on the drive here, both of us lost in thought, too scared to speak our fears out loud or to hope for too much. When I first found out I had cancer, waiting for the test results was different. There was always a next step on the horizon, a path I knew we’d likely take if this one didn’t work out, but now, there’s no safety net. I have no idea what comes next if chemotherapy hasn’t worked.
Grayson asked me if I was scared, and I said no.
I lied.
A knock sounds on the door before it swings open, sending my heart into overdrive. Dr. Hammond’s familiar smile fills the room, in turn filling me with dread.
She looks the same as she always does, with her graying blonde hair pulled into a knot at the back of her head, and thick black glasses perched on the end of her nose. She’s wearing her doctor’s coat over green scrubs.
She slides into her seat behind the large wooden desk opposite us as I try to read her expression, decipher the news she has to share, but it’s exceptionally placid and gives away nothing.
“Hi, Ryleigh, honey. Jill,” she says, greeting my mother. “As always, it’s a pleasure.”
Mom smiles, but I roll my eyes, just wanting to get on with it.
“So, I got the results of your scan back.” The doctor opens the folder in front of her like she hasn’t already looked at it when I know for a fact she goes over everything in advance.
