Page 79 of Becoming Us
He gave me a sharp nod and walked out.
I raked my hands through my hair and tugged, then dropped face-first onto the bed. “Shit!”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
BEFORE
My eyelids were heavy. I tried to focus on the teacher—a middle-aged guy in a Star Wars T-shirt. Seemed a little unprofessional. It was a good shirt, though. Chewbacca posed front and center, with big, bold letters that read:May the Force Be with Chew.
Actually… That wasn’t even funny.
I shut my eyes for half a second, just giving in, and my elbow slipped off the table. The girl beside me shrieked, and I jerked upright in my seat.
“Shit, sorry,” I muttered.
Chewbacca guy shot me a glare before droning on.
Three weeks of classes and I was already losing my mind. The constant flying back and forth was brutal. I probably should’ve taken a leave of absence and stayed in Seattle with Dad. Leaving him didn’t feel right.
The last few months had been a disaster. Dad made the most impulsive financial decision of his life—sold his shares inthe company, then signed everything over to me. Every single account, property, and investment was now in my name. Not Mom’s. Not my older brothers’. Not even his lawyers’. Mine. His nineteen-year-old, barely functioning, sleep-deprived son who couldn’t stay awake in a class he wasn’t even sure he’d registered for.
I was suddenly responsible for reviewing financial statements, keeping tabs on market activity, approving wire transfers, fielding calls from advisors, and making decisions I didn’t always understand. I had to sign off on tax filings, oversee trust distributions, and make sure nothing slipped through the cracks. It wasn’t just money—it was his legacy. And I was expected to manage it like I had any clue what I was doing.
To top it off, no one was speaking to either of us. My brothers had blocked my number. Ilana was busy moving to Spain to finish her master’s. And my mom…
Sigh.
Mommy Dearest had been jumping back and forth between ignoring our existence, crying loudly in the living room and shrieking at my dad behind closed doors. I begged him to rethink it, but he’d just waved me off, sat me down, and walked me through all the documents now under my control.
I hated the feeling it gave me too.
Like he was getting his affairs in order.
We went to his checkups regularly. He started chemo a week after telling us, and when my mom refused to go, I stepped up. He needed the distraction anyway. So I brought headphones, made an endless playlist of every ’80s song he liked, and we sat for hours—listening, talking. Watching the others struggle was tough, but he handled it like a champ. Eventually, it became my favorite part of the week.
We had never been this close. I was used to the version of him that was strong and formal. Not affectionate, not exactlywarm. But now…things had shifted. He was my friend. And I was his. That small truth made something bloom in my chest. I clung to it and pushed everything else aside.
When he finished his first round of chemo, he told me I could go back to school.
So I did.
I enrolled where Holly was going and actually started to feel excited about it. Right before I left, we had another appointment with his oncologist. Another round of chemo. The news wasn’t great. But he was going to get better. I was sure of it.
Now I just needed to be there for his treatments, go with him to CT scans, play the music, make sure Jaz had the diet right, that he was taking the meds, not being too proud about it. All while starting college, going to class, and maybe attempting a social life.
That last part could wait. I needed sleep. Or Red Bull.
The screech of the chairs startled me from my cozy position, face planted on the desk.
I groaned, rubbing my neck. “Fuck.”
“We have an assignment due next week. And I think Mr. Willis hates you,” the girl beside me said.
“Cool,” I replied.
She promptly turned and left.
