“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to—” Dr. March starts.
I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “You said the tumor is operable?”
“Yes. As it is now. But the window of opportunity is narrowing. If the tumor is left any longer, it will go past the point of removal. Then, there will nothing we can do for her.”
There’s a chance. I just need to make Taylor change her mind.
But she wants to die.
I can’t comprehend it in my mind.
Taylor is amazing, so full of life. Her laugh alone is worth living for. She has so much to give the world.
Why would she want to give up on that?
Give up on life.
I have to make her see sense.
But what if you can’t? that small voice in the back of my mind says. What if nothing you say matters, and she dies anyway?
Someone doesn’t just make the decision to die lightly. She decided on this long before she met me.
She’s known this whole time.
I can’t even feel betrayed because I just feel afraid. So very fucking afraid.
I have to change her mind. Because I can’t see a world without her in it.
But I couldn’t even get her to stay in London with me. I wasn’t enough. So, how is what I say going to be enough to get her to save her own life?
Especially when I don’t know what’s going on in her mind, why she’s even doing this.
“Doctor, if Taylor…if I can’t get through to her and she continues to refuse treatment, is there any way you can do the surgery without her consent? Force her to have it done?”
I hate that I have to ask this, but I need to know what my options are before I go in and see her.
Because I won’t fucking lose Taylor.
I won’t just let her die. I will do whatever is necessary to keep her alive.
“Liam…” That’s Eddie.
I turn my face to him. The look on his face makes my hope drop to its knees, just like I want to.
“The hospital can only obtain a court order to enforce treatment if we believe someone isn’t of sound mind or if it’s a child.”
“Maybe she isn’t of sound mind.” I hate that I’m saying this, but I know tumors can affect people, change their personalities. “The tumor could be pressing on her brain, making her think and act differently than how she normally would. Making her think she wants to give up when she really doesn’t.”
I look at Dr. March. She would know. She’s the one treating Taylor.
But the expression on her face takes my hope from its knees and lays it flat on the floor.
“Behavioral changes are always a possibility with brain tumors…but, in Taylor’s case, I don’t think it is.” She shakes her head. “I believe Taylor to be of sound mind. She is lucid and very clear on what she wants. I am sorry.”
She sounds like this is already over. Like Taylor is going to die.
Fuck that. Fuck her and everyone.
It’s not over.
I won’t let it be over.
I won’t let Taylor just kill herself.
“I need to see her.”
“I’ll take you,” Dr. March says.
“We’ll be in the waiting room,” Eddie says to me.
“We’re here for you, man.” Cam gives my shoulder one last squeeze before letting go.
I follow Dr. March down a corridor and through a set of double doors.
She finally comes to a stop outside a door near the end of the corridor. “Taylor is in here. Now, please try not to upset her. Any stress—”
“I won’t upset her.”
Dr. March nods and then walks away.
I take a strengthening breath, and then I slowly push the door open. It doesn’t make a sound.
The room is dark, except for the light on by the bed. She’s lying on her back, pillows propping her up, her face turned away from me, staring out the window at the night sky.
Just the sight of her hurts me.
She looks so small, the bed swallowing her up. Her hair is spread over the pillow, the light highlighting the pink in it. Her skin looks smooth with a golden glow.
She looks beautiful.
She doesn’t look sick.
She doesn’t look like she’s…dying.
Agony crushes its fist into my chest.
Letting the door go, I move further into the room on quiet feet. “Taylor…” I gently say her name as I near the bed.
Her body stiffens, and then her head slowly turns on the pillow, her eyes meeting mine.
The look in them terrifies me. She looks closed off. The only other time Taylor has looked at me like this was last night…when she told me that she didn’t love me.
Taking a breath, I force myself to speak, “I spoke to the doctor.” My words are quiet with meaning.
I stop at the end of the bed, my hands gripping ahold of the footboard where her medical chart hangs.
I stare at her face, willing her to tell me it’s not true. That the doctor has got it wrong.
“She told you?” Her voice sounds dry, croaky.
“About the tumor? Or that you’re letting yourself die?”
Guilt floods her eyes, and she looks away.
I have my answer.
And, fuck, does it hurt.
I grip the bed harder to keep upright. “I don’t understand,” I say, my voice broken.
“I don’t expect you to.” Her voice is soft, but the words incense me, like she just yelled them at me.
“Maybe you don’t. But what I expect is a fucking explanation. Hell, I deserve an explanation. Because you don’t get to just do this, Taylor. You don’t get to just decide that you’re going to die, and that’s it.” My voice is lifting with the desperation I feel inside me.
Her eyes slowly come back to mine. “Yes, I do. It’s my life, Liam. My decision.”
“But I fucking love you.” I slam my hand against my chest. “Doesn’t that mean I at least get a say? Or do you have to love me back for that to be the case?”
She closes her eyes, as though the words are painful for her to hear.
Good.
I want emotion from her. I don’t want this dead-in-the-eyes look that she has at the moment.
Because she’s not dead.
And she never will be if I have anything to do with it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes opening back up.
“Don’t be sorry!” I cry. “Just don’t fucking do this.”
She turns her face away from me, like she’s dismissing me, and that sets me off again.
“Jesus Christ, Taylor! What is happening here? Why would you do this to yourself?”
She presses her lips together in a tight line, telling me that I’m further losing her.
I need to calm down.
I pull in a few breaths, trying to slow my racing heart. “Please,” I say gently. “Please just talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Her voice is stone cold.
“I’ll beg if I have to. If that’s what you need to change your mind. I’ll get down on my fucking knees and beg.” I move around the bed, forcing her to look at me. “I’m not asking to be in your life. I’m not asking you to love me. I just want you to live. I could live a life without you, knowing that you were out there, breathing and alive and happy. Just don’t ask me to let you die.”
She stares down at her hands that are in her lap, fingers curling around the blanket covering her. “Liam…please don’t do this. I’ve made my decision. I made it a long time ago. Long before I met you.”
“But you did meet me. And we spent time together. I know you don’t love me, but I know you feel something for me. You can’t deny that. And it has to count for something.”
Her head is shaking, slow and steady. “I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t say it differently to the other times she’s said sorry. But something is there this time that tells me there is no changing her mind.
&nb
sp; I’ve lost her.
Or maybe I never had her at all.
I stand here, numb, just staring at her. My feelings for her and all the confusion and hurt and frustration I feel builds inside me like a monster.
And I let him out.
“I won’t watch you die.” My voice is as bitter and harsh as my words are meant to be.
She looks up at me. Clear eyes meet mine. “I would never ask you to do that.”
I don’t recognize her in this moment. Her eyes are completely empty of emotion. Blank and glassy.
Taylor’s eyes have always been full of something. Whether it was the sadness she always thought she was hiding. Or those rare moments when she would let that sadness slip away and allow herself to be happy. Or those times when her eyes were filled with so much lust and longing for me that I couldn’t breathe while looking at her.
But whether her eyes were filled with sadness or happiness or lust, there was always life in them.
Or maybe there never was. I was just seeing what I wanted to see because I wanted her so badly.
“You need to make me understand, Taylor. Because I don’t understand why you are choosing to die.”
“You don’t need to understand.”
“Yes, I do!” I’m yelling now, and I don’t care. Because I don’t know what else to do, how else to get through to her. “I need to understand why you don’t want to live anymore! You’re asking me to stand back and let you die. You’re asking me to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life. Then, give me the reason.”
Her lips come together, her eyes closing on a long blink. “It’s complicated.”
“Then, uncomplicate it.”
“I can’t.” She shakes her head.
I explode. “You have to! Because I fucking deserve to know the truth!”
“Because I owe them!” she cries, sitting forward. “I have to die because I owe it to them!” The moment the words leave her mouth, she winces in pain. Her brow creases, and her hand comes up to her head, the heel of it pressing against her forehead, as she closes her eyes.
“Taylor…are you okay?” I keep my voice soft, but inside, I’m panicking and afraid and ready to call for the doctor.
“I’m fine,” she whispers. She lays her head back on the pillow, her hand falling away to lie on the bed beside her, her eyes opening.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry for all of this. I didn’t ever mean for you to see me this way.”
“What you mean is, you didn’t ever mean for me to find out.”
She exhales a tired-sounding breath, her fingers curling into the bed covers again.
Her silence gives me my answer.
My heart is aching with every hard beat it takes. I wrap my arms around my chest. I back up, leaning against the windowsill. “So, what were you going to do? You were just going to leave here and go back to Boston? And then what?”
Her eyes come to mine, the answer clear in them.
Die.
She was going to leave here, leave me, and go home to die.
I’m not a crying man. It takes a lot. But, right now, I want to cry.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes, taking breaths to hold it in.
All I want to do is beg her to change her mind. Beg her to stay. Beg her to live.
“I’m sorry I’ve hurt you.” Her soft voice is like a thousand knives plunging into my soul.
I drop my hand, opening my eyes. “You haven’t hurt me. You are hurting me.”
Her bottom lip trembles. She bites it. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
“What did you want?”
She stares into my eyes. I see a flicker of emotion. Real emotion.
And it gives me hope.
Then, her eyes shut down, taking my hope away with it.
“I don’t know. But I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to hurt you. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted.”
My hands curl around the windowsill, gripping tightly.
I need to get to the root of this. She’s talking, but she’s telling me nothing. So, I go back to the words she said before. The words she yelled at me.
“You said you owe them. That you have to die because you owe them. Who do you owe, Taylor?”
I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. I just need her to say it.
I need her talking to me.
She pulls in a deep breath. “My family.” Her eyes come back to mine. “I owe my family.”
“Why?” I ask carefully. Because I know how easily she can shut down when it comes to her family.
I’ve always known losing them affected her badly. I know how hard it is to lose people you love. That’s why I never pushed her to talk. I always figured she’d tell me when she was ready.
I just pray to God that she’s ready now. Because I have a feeling that their deaths is why she’s doing this.
Her lips tremble again, tears glistening in her eyes. She bites down on her lips, taking in a breath. “They died because of me. I owe them my life because I took theirs.”
“Babe…I don’t understand.” I keep saying that same sentence, and I’ll keep saying it until I do understand.
And then, when I do understand why she’s doing this, I will change her mind.
“The list…I wrote it when I first found out I had a tumor. My mother knew about the list. She knew what was at the top of it—go to London. I had always wanted to visit here. So, she and my dad said we would take the trip when I was better. They expected me to get better. They never for a second believed I would die. Their belief made me fight to live.” She lets out a sad-sounding breath. “I should’ve died when I was sixteen. If I had died then, they would all be alive now.
“When I was eighteen, I recovered from the tumor, and we planned the trip to England. All packed and ready to go, we were due to fly out at five p.m. the next day. I would be starting at Northeastern as soon as we got back, and my best friend, Marie, was leaving for New York. She had a place at NYU. I wasn’t going to see her until winter break. I begged my parents to let me stay at her house, so we could have one last girlie night together. They said I could, so long as I was home first thing in the morning.
“When I was getting my stuff to take to Marie’s, I realized my lucky hoodie was dirty. My dad had gotten me it from Harvard. I’d had it for years, and good stuff always seemed to happen when I was wearing it. Once, when I was wearing it, Brian Packer asked me to winter formal. Then, I was wearing it when I made the softball team. Stupid, but I was young, and I thought good stuff would always happen when I was wearing it. Before I left to go to Marie’s, I asked my mom to wash it for me, so I could wear it on the flight. I was nervous to fly, and I figured nothing could happen if I wore my lucky hoodie.
“But I was wrong. It wasn’t lucky at all. My mom must have put it into the wash after I’d gone to Marie’s and forgotten to put it in the dryer straight after. She must have realized right before bed. The dryer was on…it was faulty…and it caught fire.
“Taylor…”
“They didn’t know the downstairs was on fire because they were all sleeping, and the fire alarm didn’t go off.
“A few weeks prior, the fire alarm had kept going off, and it was driving me nuts, so I complained to my dad. He took the batteries out. Said he’d buy another.
“He hadn’t gotten around to it…and the smoke got to them first. The fire marshal told me that they didn’t suffer…”
“Taylor,” I say her name again, moving toward her.
She lifts a hand, stopping me. “I should have died from the first tumor. This is my second chance to get it right.”
“That…no, that doesn’t make sense to me.”
“It does to me.” Her eyes lift to mine.
The grief and pain in them almost bring me to my knees.
“I need to see them again,” she says softly, agonized. “I need to tell them how sorry I am. I need them
to forgive me.” Tears run from her eyes and down her cheeks.
I want to go to her, but I know she doesn’t want me near her.
So, I stand here, helpless.
“Taylor…your family…they wouldn’t want this. They wouldn’t want you to die.”
With her arm, she brushes the tears away. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” I say with certainty. “They loved you. They wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself. When you love someone, you only want the best for them. This isn’t the best.”
“Yes, it is. This is the best for me—paying my penance and being with them. That is what’s best for me.”
“Taylor…please. You need to listen to me. You can’t just give up on life like this.”
Her eyes come to mine. “I’m not giving up on life. I just want to be free of the pain of missing them…free of hating myself for what I did. I want my family back more than anything. And…I need their forgiveness.”
Tears are falling again, running down her beautiful face. And I don’t care if she wants me close or not. I have to be near her.
I sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “Taylor…what happened…it wasn’t your fault. It was a tragic accident. But it wasn’t your fault.”
She shuts her eyes and dries the tears from her face with her hands. Then, she opens her eyes back up and says, “No.” She shakes her head, determined. “It was my fault.”
“I don’t believe that. And I know your family wouldn’t think that either.”
“You didn’t know them, so you can’t make that call,” she snaps.
“No, I didn’t.” I keep my voice gentle. “But I do know you. I know the person they raised you to be—loving, warm, caring, and amazing. So fucking amazing that I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”
She closes her eyes again, but I keep talking, “And I might not have met your parents, but I do know those two people you talked about that day at the university, those two people who fell in love and fought to be together, because I saw them through your eyes, babe. I don’t believe for one second that they would want you to die. They gave you life. They raised you. Loved you. They sat by your side and fought with you through that first tumor when it threatened to take you away. They would want you to fight now.”
“That was before I killed them.” She opens her eyes but doesn’t look at me.