I nodded. “They are loved,” I said. “Your words have helped so many people, Junebug. You have no idea. You’ve given terminally ill Jesse and June a chance to live in millions of peoples’ hearts. You’ve done them justice.”
“We’re nearly there,” the driver announced, interrupting us.
I looked out of the window, and I had to rub my eyes to be sure I was seeing what I thought I was. “June,” I whispered, dumbfounded. Pride, thick and strong, flooded my veins, and with my arm around her shoulders, I pulled her to the window to look.
“Oh my gosh,” June said in utter disbelief. The line to the bookstore stretched around the block. It was so long that we couldn’t see its end. “They’re not…” she trailed off. “They’re here for me?”
As we got closer, we saw the excited faces of hundreds of people—mainly teens—waiting patiently in line.
They were here for my Junebug. They were here because of our story.
The car came to a stop where Emma and Chris were waiting, at the back entrance. Like they had at my Longhorns games, they wanted to support June too—Chemo Club for life! Plus, Emma had worked with June to make all this happen, and she wasn’t going to miss it for the world.
We had traveled to A&M a few times to see our friends. And we intended to watch Chris play baseball there later in the year. Emma had stepped back from band life she’d participated in, in high school to concentrate on math. These were our best friends for life. And because of what we’d been through, we were never going to take one another for granted. Any one of us might not have made it, just like in June’s story. I couldn’t imagine a world where that happened. We four had a bond that nothing could break.
I ducked out of the car first and gave Chris and Emma hugs. When I turned back around, June was still sat in the back seat, unmoving, staring straight ahead, lost in her panic.
“Junebug?” I said softly.
“I’m nervous,” she said, and my heart melted.
“They love you, baby. Just like we love you. There’s nothing to fear.” I pointed to myself, Emma and Chris. “It’s understandable to be nervous, but they just want to meet you and thank you for your words.” I held out my hand.
June quickly put hers in mine and held on like she wouldn’t ever let go. “Stay with me,” she said, and I kissed the back of her hand.
“Always.”
I guided June from the car and Emma threw her arms around her. “You’re gonna kill it,” she said excitedly, just as the door opened to the bookstore behind us.
“Hello. You must be J. Taylor?” the bookstore manager said, and my heart skipped a beat. It always did whenever June’s pen name was used. It played in my head on repeat, and I prayed that, soon enough, it would no longer be just a pen name but her legal name too.
“Yes, ma’am,” June said, and in that moment, she seemed so young. We were so young for so much of what had happened to us. But June’s success…she was eighteen and more successful than some people twice her age were.
Keeping her hand in mine, we entered the bookstore. “We’ll do the Q&A first,” the manager said. “Is that okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” June said again. We were led to a room behind where the meet and greet would be.
“Okay, this is epic,” Chris said. “Do y’all think they’ll ask about me too? Being one of the main characters in the story and all.”
We all laughed, and I rolled my eyes at my friend, but then wrapped my arms around June when I saw how nervous she still was. “Just be you,” I said to her. “They’ll adore you.”
June nodded, then the manager came back through. “Are you ready, Ms. Taylor?” That name flipped my stomach again. When she’d decided on her pen name, she had wanted to incorporate us both, being that it was our joint story. So June had used Taylor. It was the greatest honor of my life so far. I could only think of one more that would top it.
June nodded, then followed her out into the store. The minute June came into view, the people—who were now seated and waiting patiently—began to cheer. June’s step faltered, but I helped her onto the stage.
She met my eyes, disbelief shining in hers, and I kissed the back of her hand, flipping it over to kiss the anatomical heart that was drawn on it. “I’ll be in the front row,” I said, and pointed to the seats Emma had reserved for us.
June inhaled deeply, then stood and faced the crowd. There wasn’t a free space in the store, some readers even having to stand.
June waved, a blush coloring her cheeks. As I sat down, I was breathless—not from the treatment, but from seeing my girl up there, all the attention she deserved (and feared) being showered upon her. From the moment I had met her, I knew she was special. Seeing her up there now only confirmed it.
June took a seat, and the crowd settled. The audience was completely silent as she answered each question—about her writing process, about her love of books, and about why she wanted to be a writer.
When the crowd was asked for questions, a girl stood up. “I love the story of Jesse and June. It’s so beautiful but so tragic at the same time. There are rumors that it’s based on a true story. Can you tell us if it is?”
June’s brown eyes found mine. I could feel people following her gaze, and murmurs broke out. I knew what they were seeing. Me in my Longhorn’s cap, bald head underneath.
“In parts,” June said, and then asked me a question with her gaze. Could she mention us? Our journey? Could she make it public? I gave her firm nod. Our story—in both worlds—was beautiful. I wanted her to scream it from the rooftops.
