I sat down on the edge of his bed, facing away from where he stood, watching me. “You have cancer.” I frowned, finally accepting what he’d said. “Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered. My head hung low, my hands gripped the side of the bed.
I assumed the worst in him, because I was a horrible person. I projected my demons onto a man who was literally losing the fight for his life. I had no right to be mad at anyone but myself.
And at that moment, I was fucking pissed at none other than yours truly.
His body heat offered comfort as the bed dipped next to me. His hand caressed my lower back. "Sugar, remember what I said about sharing secrets sometime? Well, this was mine. It’s not really something you can just blurt out, and I swear I never meant for you to find out this way." Sorrow filled the tenor of his voice. "I struggled with telling you at all…I didn’t think I could stand to see the look of pity in your beautiful eyes."
I looked straight ahead, still unable to meet his stare. "I don't pity you. You don't seem sick." My voice sounded meek, like I was afraid of how he would take my response.
"Darlin', you already are." His gruff response was enough to cause me to turn. I wished I hadn't. "Listen to you." He pushed a piece of hair off my face and behind my ear.
At his gentle caress, my body leaned into him and a lone tear escaped. "I'm so sorry, Dylan." I took his hand and held it to my cheek, as his thumb wiped my sadness away. "I jumped to conclusions. I should've asked. You must hate me." My words ran together as I tried to convey my thoughts before he gained his wits and threw my drug-addicted ass out of his life forever. "Oh, hell…what you must think of me right now."
"I think the world of you, Haven. That hasn't changed." His kind words were a balm on my shattered heart. “Nothing you can do or say will change how I feel about you, sugar. You’re a shining light in an otherwise shitty tunnel." He smoothed my hair back. "We do need to talk though, just no more tonight."
He held my face in his hands and laid a soft kiss on my forehead. "Maybe sometime you can tell me about your secret, sugar." His voice was whisper soft. "I'm actually a little tired right now."
And with that, he dropped his hands, and lay down. “Will you stay?” he asked through a yawn.
“Did you really need to ask?” I sniffed, settling down beside him as he wrapped me in his arms and kissed the back of my head.
Haven
"We on our backs staring at the stars above,
Talking about what we going to be when we grow up,
I said what you wanna be? She said, 'Alive.'"
-Outkast, "The Art of Storytellin' (Part 1)"
Dylan's body curled around mine. Our limbs entwined as I stared at the ceiling while the fan twirled at a maddeningly slow speed. I closed my eyes, but sleep evaded me as I listened to the soft snores of Dylan beside me.
His mouth was warm against my neck, a hint of coffee smell lingered on his breath. I turned my head slightly toward him, inhaling his scent. It was intoxicating and just what I needed to calm my reeling mind.
Cancer.
I couldn't wrap my thoughts around what he shared with me. Everything was jumbled, a mess of needles, sex, and death.
He was dying.
The beautiful cowboy who made sweet, tender love to me was leaving me, just like every other person I'd ever loved in my life. Maybe that was my penance for all the fucked-up shit I had done. I'd run out of chances, ruined them with my need for that next fix, that eternal high. So many times I had lied, cheated, stolen; I was guilty of it all. It seemed that bitch named Karma was coming to collect.
Only I had nothing left to offer. I'd already lost everything before it was ever really mine.
First Jude.
Now Dylan.
I was destined to be alone, and I had no one to blame but myself.
I sighed and rolled away from Dylan. He shifted. His arm tightened around me and a hushed whimper escaped his throat.
Just how much pain was he in?
My heart broke a little more, and I silently sobbed into the dark blue pillow. Tears of frustration and angst were just the tip of the overflow of emotions flooding through me. Above all else was my anger, anger with myself.
How could I ever want to do something as vile as meth and the multiple other drugs I’d messed with when this man next to me was suffering with nothing but death as a reward? He’d told me it was brain cancer, but what kind? There were so many. I didn’t know for sure how bad it was, and I couldn’t fathom Dylan not being here, being a part of my life. I’d just found him. Part of me wanted to believe things would look brighter in the morning. The other part of me wanted to walk into that bathroom and let the darkness swallow me whole.
But I couldn't succumb to my demons. Not now, not ever again. I wouldn’t risk that. I couldn’t waste a life on drugs when somebody as amazing and kind-hearted as Dylan was losing his by no choice of his own. It was selfish.
I almost died from it once and I promised I would never get involved with needles again.
If it weren't for Jude…
Jude.
My savior. The man who I thought would stand up to anyone and everyone for me.
The man who left me without ever looking back.
I wiped my face, the salt drying on my exposed cheek while the other laid in the tear-sodden pillowcase.
Releasing a deep sigh, placed my hand over Dylan's. "I love you, cowboy," I murmured into the darkness, vowing I’d show him how much I loved him every chance I had. “I don’t know why you were sent to me, but I won’t let you down. “ Sniffling, I threaded my fingers through his and listened to his breathing even out and his whimpers soften.