Page 53 of Fractured Constellations
He reaches over and grabs my insulated cup, the one that Blade had made for me, and brings the straw to my lips. I swallow gratefully, the ice-cold water a balm on my throat.
“You developed sepsis and needed a blood transfusion. Our blood is a match, so they gave you ours,” he informs me, setting the cup back down and sitting on the side of the bed. “We almost lost you, Goldie.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, and my chest tightens as the reality hits. Ididalmost die. I almost lost them too, and that makes the back of my eyes prick.
“I don’t want to die, Thorn,” I confess, the words ripped from my throat as my eyes fill with tears.
“Oh, Moonbeam,” Thorn murmurs, gathering me up into his arms as he lies down on the bed. “We brought you back and will do it again if needed. You’re not going anywhere.”
My hands grasp his T-shirt, clinging to him and pulling him closer to me, breathing him in as I quietly cry against his chest. He holds me just as tightly, whispering soft things into my ear, telling me with his words and actions that I am not alone. That I am loved. And that they will fight the heavens to keep me with them, whatever it takes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“WHAT WAS I MADE FOR? (FROM THE MOTION PICTURE “BARBIE”)” BY BILLIE EILISH
LUNA
‘Cycle two, day seventeen. My hair comes out in clumps now. The trees outside my window are shedding their leaves too. We’re synchronized in our losses, preparing for a winter neither of us is guaranteed to survive.’
I place my pen in the pages of my journal, looking up at the window. The past few weeks have passed in a round of managing horrible side effects, then the third round of my chemo last week, which was just as fucking brutal as the first two. The triplets were there with me again, my mom managing to pop by once to say hello before Richard called her away. I hate the apologetic looks she gives me now. They are fucking meaningless because she still always leaves.
I’ve had no more incidents of sepsis, no more rushed-to-the-hospital visits, so I guess I can be thankful for that. Yet as the summer comes to an end, I can’t help the pit opening up in mystomach. The triplets will have to go back to Harvard soon, then I’ll truly be alone, and I’m not sure how I will cope without them by my side.
Sighing, I turn away from the sunshine outside, not wanting to see the leaves are starting to change color, even if fall is usually my favorite season. I still as I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror of my dresser.
I look like death.
My skin is pale and dull, my eyes lifeless, and my hair… A sob catches in my throat at the patches of my scalp which are now visible. My hand floats to my head, my fingers touching the brittle curls, and as I pull them back, more of my hair comes with them.
Pushing up, my heart thudding inside my chest, I stride into my bathroom. Bending down, I open the cabinet and rifle through it, trying to find the clippers that I brought with me. I used these last time, wanting to have some semblance of control, and it seems the time has come to use them again, even if tears drip down my cheeks at the loss of a part of me.
My hand finally grabs the bag they come in, and I pull it out, standing up and holding onto the counter for a moment when dizziness washes over me. Once that passes, my trembling fingers open the zipper, pulling the clippers out and switching them on.
The buzz fills the room immediately as I made sure they were fully charged before I packed them. Looking up, I take a deep inhale, bringing the clippers to my head. Then I close my eyes as they make contact, unable to look at the defeat in the blue depths as I pass the blades over my skin, feeling the hair drop around me.
“Goldilocks?” Blade’s deep voice startles me, and my eyes snap open to find him in the doorway, his green eyes wide as he takes in the scene. He and his brothers were giving me sometime alone, knowing that I need a bit of time to myself, though they never go too far for too long.
A sob rips from my lips, my hands shaking as I pull the clippers away. He’s striding towards me in moments, the clippers clattering on the countertop as he pulls me into his strong arms.
“Why didn’t you say something, baby? We would have helped,” he rumbles, kissing my tears away.
“I fucking hate this part,” I confess, knowing that out of all the side effects, this is the easiest and also the hardest to deal with. I don’t know why, but losing my hair has always been the worst.
“I know, baby, but we told you it doesn’t matter if you’re bald or not. We still love you. We still want you.”
My breath stills inside my chest. “You love me?”
He raises one brow, his lips tilted up in a half smirk. “Of course I fucking do, Goldilocks. I love you so much, you are all I think about, all I dream about. You’re it for me, baby.”
“I love you too, Papa Bear,” I whisper, and his half smirk turns into a wide grin.
“I know,” he replies like the arrogant asshole he is, and I huff a laugh as I swat his chest, which only hurts my hand. Stupid man muscles. “Now, let’s shave our heads.”
My eyes feel like they bug out of my skull. “What?”
“You heard me, gorgeous,” he tells me, keeping one arm around me as he reaches for the clippers and the bag. “Get that pretty ass into your bedroom so we can be comfortable.”
He herds me into the bedroom, my mind stuttering as he sits down at my dressing table, holding out the clippers.
