“Of course,” Mom said. “Call tomorrow. Or anytime. You know you can, right?”
“I do.”
“I love you, son,” she said, and the lump was back in my throat.
“Love you too, Mom. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hung up and peered out of my porch doors. There was rain lashing at the panes, which felt fitting. When I’d gotten back to my room, I’d seen Olivia and the stable hands hurriedly bringing the horses in from the fields to the safety of the stalls. Then darkness had set in, and the storm raged on.
June was with her parents. After we had made our announcement in the rec room, they had asked her to go with them. They’d wanted to be sure she was okay. They’d asked me to go with them, which had stunned me, but I declined. It was something they needed to do alone.
That thought made me think of the call just now. My mom was crushed at my news, and I hated to see it. But I was determined to take our 10 percent chance and turn it into gold.
I cursed the rain outside. I needed a night on the porch with June like I needed my next breath. I just wanted to talk to her, be next to her. I didn’t want to be alone right now. Sadness was trying to take hold of me, no matter how much I was trying to keep my head above water. I was trying so hard to not find my plan for the future impossible. I was still holding on to recovering quickly and having enough time to get fit and healthy to play m next year. It would be near impossible, but I felt I could do it. The coach from UT had told me they were holding my spot. As long as it was mine, everything was still a possibility.
Sitting on my bed, I returned to my most recent sketch. It wasn’t the drawing I’d hoped to be working on tonight. But this image had been clawing its way out of my soul since this morning, and I needed to put it down on paper. It was of June, in the very moment she realized I had been given the bad news too.
I smoothed my finger over her cheek, smudging the charcoal into her skin. Her cheeks were tearstained, eyes glassy with sorrow. But it was the desolate expression on her face that destroyed me. In this moment, the sadness for her own failing health wasn’t what had her so distraught. It was learning that mine was failing too.
Ten percent.
As brutal as this moment had been, it also showed how much she cared for me. That her own pain had been eclipsed by mine. If I had ever doubted how much June cared for me, this image…it would be ingrained into my conscious for life.
A soft knock sounded on my suite’s door, and I closed my sketchpad. I quickly opened the door, praying it was her. “Junebug,” I said, my voice laced with relief, and moved aside to let her inside.
She ducked into my room, and I closed the door.
I turned to see her moving to my bed, notebook in hand. Instantly, I felt calmer having her with me. I tilted my head as she sat on the edge of my bed. “I didn’t know if I’d be seeing you tonight.” I gestured to the rain outside and the bolts of lightning that were flashing across the sky. “Thought the storm would keep you away. And I didn’t know if your parents wanted to be with you after today.”
“I told them to go back to the parents’ residence,” she said.
A smirk broke out on my face. “Junebug Scott, did you tell them that so you could sneak into your boyfriend’s room?”
June didn’t blush; instead, she met my eyes straight on, and with confidence in her posture, said, “Yes.” Her demeanor tookme aback. I had never seen her like this, with no doubt or insecurity in her body. I liked it. More than liked it.
I reached the edge of the bed and looked down at June. The corners of her lips tugged up, and she held my gaze. “You naughty, naughty girl,” I said, and June burst out laughing.
“What can I say? You’re a bad influence,” she said, her voice laced with both humor and exhaustion. It had been one hell of a day.
When she stopped laughing, I placed my finger under her chin and tilted her head up. I leaned down and kissed her. Any unease in my body melted away when her lips were on mine. When I broke away, I said, “Well, I won’t ever apologize for that, not if it brings you to my lair.”
“Lair?” she sputtered.
“Room of love?” I said, breath catching at the laughter in her brown eyes.
June’s hand landed on my arm. “Let’s stop while we’re ahead.Please.” I shrugged and June pointed at my sketchbook and the charcoal smudges on my hands. “You’ve been drawing?”
“Yeah,” I said, and sat on bed too, leaning against the headboard.
June frowned. “What did you draw?” My stomach flipped. I didn’t think she’d want to see it. I didn’t want her to be sadder than she already was. I shrugged again, and June asked, “Can I take a peek?”
I hesitated, but June’s stare was bold. Unable to say no to her, I reached for the sketchpad and opened it to the page. I handed it to her, searching her face for any sign that it was upsetting her.
“When was this from?” she asked quietly.
“Today,” I rasped, “the moment I told you the treatment hadn’t worked on me too.”
June nodded and ran her hand down her portrait’s tearstained cheek. But she didn’t seem upset—rather, in awe. Raising her gaze to meet mine, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared as when you told me it hadn’t worked for you.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Same,” I said, and still felt the shivers that had accosted my body when June shared her news. Still felt the utter unfairness at how my girl might not be saved. How we felt for one another turned to static in the air between us.
