Page 95 of Campus Crush
“I agree,” I said, glancing at Foster with a small smile.
After a few minutes of gentle conversation, Foster excused himself to get us coffees, tactfully giving us time alone with Gram.
As soon as the door closed behind him, the facadecrumbled. Tears filled Gram’s eyes as she looked between Mason and me.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I should have told you.”
The question that had been burning inside me finally spilled out. “Why didn’t you?”
She sighed, the sound rattling slightly in her chest. “It was already too far advanced. After everything you two had been through…losing your father, then your mother… I couldn’t bear to put that burden on you.”
I felt the tears I’d been trying to hold back begin to fall. “How long have you known?”
“Since early summer,” she admitted. “The doctors gave me options, but at my age, the treatments would have just made what time I had left miserable. I wanted quality over quantity.”
“But—” I started to protest.
She squeezed my hand with surprising strength. “Abigail Jane Walker, don’t you dare second-guess my decision. I’ve lived a full life, and I made my choice with a clear head and a full heart. I wanted to enjoy the rest of my life with you kids instead of being pumped full of poison and watching you two worry yourselves sick.”
I nodded, unable to speak. I still wasn’t happy with her decision—I wasn’t sure I’d ever be okay with it—but I understood it. If I only had a limited time with her, I wasn’t going to spend it arguing.
“Now,” she continued, her tone softening, “I need you both to listen to me. I’ve made all the arrangements. The house has been paid off for years, and it’ll go to both of you. You can keep it or sell it to use the money for your education or whatever else you choose. I wish I had more to leave you?—”
“Gram, we don’t need to talk aboutthis now,” I said.
“Yes, we do,” she insisted. “Because I feel weaker every hour, and I need to know you’ll be okay. I need to know you’ll take care of each other.”
“We will,” Mason promised, his voice steady despite the tears streaming down his face.
We spent the next half hour talking—about memories, regrets, and hopes for the future. But it was obvious Gram’s energy was fading fast.
Foster returned with not only coffee, but food for us, and we spent the day in Gram’s hospital room. Foster’s steady presence beside me was the anchor I needed to keep from feeling like my grief would suck me under as we faced head-on the reality that Gram would very likely never leave this room before she succumbed to her cancer.
I wasn’t ready to lose her, but once again, life hadn’t given me a choice.
FORTY-SIX
I stayed at the hospital most of the day with Abby and Mason, but had to get back to my normal schedule for the rest of the week. Whenever I wasn’t in class or practice, I was with Abby at the hospital, and would stay with her at her Gram’s house each night.
The rhythmic beeping of Gram’s monitors had become a constant soundtrack to our vigil. Sometimes I’d catch Abby staring at those monitors, her eyes following each peak and valley as if they contained some secret code that might tell her how much time remained. In those moments, I’d silently take her hand, and she’d squeeze mine gratefully without looking away.
I’d explained the situation to the guys, and they’d immediately stepped up in a way that made my chest tighten with pride. They organized a rotation, taking turns bringing actual edible food to Abby and Mason so they wouldn’t be stuck with the bland, rubbery hospital cafeteria offerings.
But they did more than just drop off food. They stayed, sometimes for an hour or more, filling the small hospitalroom with stories and laughter that seemed to momentarily lift the heavy cloud of grief that hung over Abby and Mason.
I could tell they made quite the impression on Mason. The way his eyes lit up when one of them walked through the door spoke volumes. According to Abby, he didn’t have many male role models in his life beyond his football coach. She’d mentioned several times how he’d become increasingly withdrawn since their mom died, and I could see the worry etched in her face about what losing Gram would do to him.
“He used to be so outgoing,” she’d whispered to me as we lay in her bed late one night. “He was always the first to raise his hand in class, the first to make friends with new kids. After Mom died… it was like something inside him just shut down.”
I wanted desperately to ease that fear for her, to give Mason another shoulder to lean on that wasn’t just his sister. Abby had been carrying the weight of responsibility for him for too long already.
What I wasn’t prepared for was for Mason to turn the tables on me a few days after Gram had been admitted to the hospital. Abby had stepped out to take an important call with Parker Holt about her internship, leaving Mason and me alone with a sleeping Gram. The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of monitors and the occasional squeak of rubber-soled shoes passing in the hallway.
“What are your intentions with my sister?” Mason asked suddenly, his voice deeper than usual, clearly trying to sound authoritative.
I glanced at the bed, but Gram was still asleep—she’d been sleeping more and more with every day that passed,the medication and disease progression pulling her under for longer stretches.
“Are you guys just like casual or is this serious?” he added, his eyes narrowing as he studied my face.
