48. Noah
48
Noah
C hristmas and New Year’s Eve flew by, and all too soon, Zoey is back at the treatment center, going through the worst hell of her life. She’s three weeks in, and every day just gets harder. I hate seeing her like this. I hate seeing how the light in her eyes dulls a little more each time I see her.
She’s seventeen, almost eighteen in a few weeks. This isn’t how she’s supposed to be living. She’s supposed to have the world at her feet with college right around the corner. She’s supposed to be learning how to fly, not crumbling under the weight of her disease.
I know she’s strong enough to pull through this. She has to be. But it’s going to be the biggest fight of her life. She just needs to hold on, endure the worst so we can get to the best days of our lives.
I pull up at the treatment center, letting out a heavy breath, terrified of what I’m about to walk into. Some days she’s good. They’re generally the rest days between doses, but then some days, I see the pain in her eyes, and I know she’s dying inside, silently screaming for me to take her away from this place.
She’s never once told me how badly she’s suffering. She’s trying to protect me from it, doesn’t want me hurting for her, but she should know better by now. I can see right through her. Those dazzling green eyes are like a window right into her soul, and when hers is so entwined with mine, I read her perfectly.
Desperate to get in there and see how she’s doing, I jam my pockets full of supplies and then glance down at the floor space of my passenger side, wondering how the hell I’m going to get her gift into her room without getting kicked out. I could always sneak through her window, but then I have to scale the high fences, and carrying this with me is going to turn it into a chore.
“Shit,” I mutter, realizing I’m going to have to shove it down my shirt.
Reaching into the backseat, I grab my jacket and pull it on before zipping it up, giving myself a little extra padding to conceal Zoey’s gift while hoping like fuck I don’t get sprung before I get to give this to her. She’s going to be so excited. She’s always begged her parents for one, but luckily for her, they can’t exactly say no right now.
Reaching down, I grab her present and place it onto my lap before making sure I have my phone and keys. Then I grab the single tulip off my dashboard before wrestling her present beneath my shirt and deciding this will have to do.
I make quick work of getting out of my car and hurrying across the lot, knowing my luck is bound to run out at some point. Then almost in a sweat, I sign in at the reception desk, hoping like fuck this thing stays quiet. After a weird look from the nurse behind the desk, I race down the hall to get to Zoey’s room.
Barging through her door a moment later, a stupid grin stretches across my face as I spy her sitting up in bed with her laptop open, busily typing away. I can’t help but notice how much weight she’s been losing or the dark circles beneath her beautiful eyes, but I would never point it out.
The second Zoey glances up and takes me in, her gaze narrows. “You look shady as hell, Noah Ryan,” she tells me, suspicion thick in her tone. “Spill it. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing,” I say slowly, kicking the door shut behind me as I creep across her room.
She watches me like an assassin, never taking her eyes off her mark. “Your pockets are bulging like crazy, and you’re wearing the jacket you put in the back of your car that you never use. Plus, whatever you’ve got hidden under there is making you look like you’ve been hitting the gym way too hard and suddenly sprouted ridiculous-sized pecs. Or you got a botched boob job, and if that’s the case, you should be asking for your money back.”
“Ha. Ha,” I say, rolling my eyes as she closes her laptop, offering me her undivided attention. “I’m glad to see the chemo hasn’t burned that sarcasm out of your system.”
“Great news, isn’t it?” she says, her gaze falling back to my torso with a deep curiosity, but when I don’t go to show her, she loses her patience. “Just give it to me already. You’re killing me. You know I can’t handle surprises.”
I laugh and make my way around her bed before propping my ass on the side. “You need to be aware that having this here is definitely going to get us in trouble,” I warn her before handing her the tulip between my fingers, something I’ve started doing every single day to the point her room is flooded with them. “But I couldn’t resist.”
Her brows furrow, her gaze shifting back to mine, as she holds the tulip in her lap, and with that, I loosen my hold around my jacket and pull open the neckline of my shirt before peering down and taking in the big eyes staring back at me. “Come on,” I say, a wide smile stretching across my face as Zoey’s brand-new ragdoll kitten walks right up my chest and pops her head out through the neckline.
Zoey gasps, her eyes going wide as her kitten looks back at her, the two of them meeting each other’s stare. The second they do, it’s like the planets align, and the kitten jumps right out of my shirt and scrambles across the bed, not stopping until she’s purring in Zoey’s lap.
“Holy shit,” Zoey breathes, scooping the tiny thing up into her arms, tears welling in her beautiful green eyes. “How did you know? I’ve always wanted a ragdoll.”
“Zo,” I laugh, giving her a pointed stare. “I know everything there is to know about you. I’ve been there on at least ten different occasions where you’ve begged your parents for one and then had to deal with the fallout when they said no.”
She grins, knowing exactly what I’m talking about, but it quickly fades away as she glances back down at the kitten. “Thank you,” she says. “I love her, but . . . maybe my parents were right to say no. What if I don’t . . . You know, who will . . .”
“I don’t want you worrying about that,” I tell her. “I’ve already cleared it with your parents, and I talked to Hazel. She says if that were to happen, and that’s a big if because it’s not going to happen, then she will look after her.”
“Really?” she asks with wide eyes. “I really get to be a kitten momma?”
“Yeah, Zo. You’re a kitten momma.”
The beaming excitement that shines through her eyes is the best thing I’ve ever seen, and with her kitten wrapped in her arms, she leans forward and presses her lips to mine in a hungry kiss, and I don’t dare hesitate to kiss her back. Only her eyes widen, and she quickly pulls away. “Oh, shit. I’m not supposed to kiss you,” she panics, her hand coming up and wiping over my lips, but I shake my head, lowering her hand.
“You really think a little bit of chemo is going to stop me from kissing my girl?” I ask, pulling her right back in and giving her exactly what she’s been wanting. Fuck the chemo. If it makes me sick, I’ll deal with it, but nothing is going to keep me from showing my girl how much I love her. I resisted during her first round, but seeing her like this has only gone to show just how short life can be, and I want to live it to the fullest.
She holds up the little kitten before bringing her right to her face, unconditional love already shining in her wet eyes. “Don’t cry, baby,” I beg her.
“I can’t help it,” she tells me. “Apart from when I’m with you, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life.”
I smile back at her, absolutely loving seeing her like this. Then trying to keep myself from getting overly emotional and wondering just how many chances I might get to make her this happy again, I stand up and start pulling all the cat supplies out of my pockets.
The kitten watches me like a hawk, eyeing the toys I put down on the bed, more than ready to start chasing them around Zoey’s room. I add treats and a portable food and water bowl to the pile, surprised with just how much crap I was able to squeeze into my pockets.
“Holy shit,” Zoey says, eyeing it all. “Where am I supposed to hide all of this?”
“Your call, Zo,” I tell her. “I can take her home with me tonight and bring her back in the morning or—”
“Hell no,” she says, her brows furrowed, looking appalled at my suggestion. “What kind of momma would I be if I let you take my baby away every night? She’ll stay here with me.”
“You sure, babe? I know you don’t like breaking the rules and having pets in a place like this is definitely against the rules. Dr. Sanchez isn’t going to be down with this.”
Zoey smirks. “Maybe not for you, but when I push the whole therapy kitty angle and tell her how happy she would make all of her patients, she won’t be able to resist. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to advertise that she’s here. I’ll keep her hidden for as long as I can.”
“So, she’s going to sleep under the blankets with you?” I ask, a little jealous.
“Uh-huh,” Zoey smirks. “But don’t be surprised if you get a call in the middle of the night to come and get our cat.”
“ Our cat?”
“Mm-hmm,” Zoey murmurs, her gaze so heavily focused on the tiny bundle of fluff in her lap, adoration shining in her beautiful green eyes. “You’re my person, Noah. So if this little sweet thing is my baby, that means by default, you’re her daddy.”
“Ah, shit.”
Zoey laughs and holds up the kitten, looking over her with deep consideration. “Hmmm, I think I’ll call you Allie.”
My brows furrow, having no idea where she pulled that name from. “Allie?” I question.
Zoey grins wide. “From The Notebook ,” she tells me as though I should have already figured it out. “Noah and Allie. I’ve already got my Noah, but I need an Allie to complete the set.”
I shake my head, letting out a heavy breath as I scooch in beside Zoey on her bed, reaching over to put her laptop somewhere safe before pulling her into my arms as she holds tightly on to little Allie. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better now,” she admits. “It was mostly a shit day. I got a new neighbor, and the walls are paper thin. All I’ve been able to hear all day is how easy she thought her chemo treatment was. I’m about ready to march in there and shove my foot right up her ass.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Worse,” she mutters. “She also likes scrolling through TikTok with the volume all the way up.”
“You only need to get through two more weeks, and then you’re out of here,” I remind her, knowing my words are doing absolutely nothing to make her feel better about her situation.
Zoey lets out a heavy sigh before reaching up and pushing her hair back off her face, only when her hand falls away, she gasps with horror, her eyes widening. My head snaps toward her, trying to figure out what’s wrong when I glance down and find long strands of chestnut hair tangled between her slim fingers.
“No, no, no, no,” she chants as my heart breaks for her. She reaches up again, grabbing at her hair as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing, and sure enough, more clumps of hair come free in her hands.
Fat tears roll down her cheeks, and I take her face, forcing her to look at me as she starts to panic. “It’s okay, Zo. We knew this could happen. It’s just hair. It will grow back.”
She shoves at me, her face falling into her hands. “You’re a guy. You don’t get it.”
“Try me.”
“It’s . . . It’s my hair,” she cries. “To a girl, her hair is part of her identity. Without it . . . it’s just another part of myself I’m losing to this stupid disease.”
She scrambles off her bed before allowing me a chance to argue, and I watch as she presses a hand to the wall, steadying herself as she makes her way into the private bathroom. The door only closes halfway, leaving it cracked just enough for me to see as she stands in front of the mirror with tears rolling down her sunken cheeks.
She pulls at her hair, and thick chunks fall into the basin. When she can’t take it any longer, she collapses against the sink.
Striding into the bathroom, I step in behind her before taking her hips and gently turning her until she crumbles against my chest. My arms lock around her, holding her tight as she cries, the devastation pouring through both of us for two very different reasons.
My hand roams up and down her back, and I hold her there as Allie cries from the bed, wondering what’s wrong with her new momma, too small to risk jumping down on her own.
We stand here for almost an hour as she cries it out, and when she finally pulls out of my arms and wipes her eyes, she turns around, facing the mirror once more. Reaching up to the overhead cabinet above the sink, her hand curls around a box containing hair clippers, and she pulls it down before briefly meeting my questioning gaze through the mirror. “I found it here during my first round of chemo,” she tells me. “I just didn’t think I’d ever have to use it.”
She turns back to me and presses it into my hand, but I take her chin, raising it until she meets my stare. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this today. You can sit with it until you’re ready.”
“So I can get around looking like Angelica’s doll from Rugrats ? No thanks. I’d prefer to just get it over and done with.”
“Okay,” I tell her, placing the shaver down on the edge of the sink. “I’ll get you a chair.”
She nods and turns back to the mirror, those watery eyes tearing me to shreds. Walking out of the bathroom, I grab the chair from beside her bed before stopping and scooping up Allie in my other hand and making my way back.
I find Zoey in the middle of plugging the cable into the outlet and trying to figure out how the shaver works, and I set the chair behind her. She doesn’t hesitate to drop into the seat, and a part of me wonders if it’s because she’s already been on her feet for so long.
She takes Allie and snuggles her in her lap as I take the shaver and switch it on, only I pause as my hand hovers by the top of her head. I meet her gaze through the mirror. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
She shakes her head. “Not even a little bit, but just do it,” she says, a brokenness dulling her green eyes.
My thumb stretches around the shaver to switch it on, and with a heavy breath, I push it back over her scalp, her long chestnut locks falling to the ground at my feet. Zoey cries, holding Allie up to her face and breathing her in as though the tiny little kitten is somehow able to give her the strength that I can’t.
I do it quickly, not wanting her to have to endure this for long, and when I’m done, I lift the shaver to my own head, pushing it through my dark hair before she gets a chance to stop me. Her eyes widen as her jaw slackens. “NOAH!” she screeches. “What the hell are you doing?”
“If you get to be a sexy little baldie, then why the hell can’t I?” I say, really driving home the point that it’s just hair. She’s still fucking gorgeous to me whether her hair is on her head or covering the bathroom floor. It’s not a big deal. Once she’s better and her body has a chance to recover from the chemotherapy, her hair will grow back, and when it does, I’m sure it’s going to be just as beautiful as it once was.
She watches me as I shave my head, and I meet her gaze through the mirror. “You think I could pull off a mohawk?”
A smirk pulls at her lips, and she rolls her eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” she tells me, that smirk only widening, then watching as I go to every effort to shave my whole head except for the strip right down the center, she starts to laugh. “Noah! Stop making me laugh. I’m trying to be sad.”
“Don’t you think you’ve been sad enough?” I ask her. “You’ve cried more tears over the past few months than you have in your whole life, and each one of them has killed me. You’ve already been through so much, and I know the fear of the unknown is terrifying, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy. So whether you like it or not, I’m not going to stop trying to make you laugh because when you do laugh and your eyes light up like Christmas morning, it makes me so fucking happy I could die.”
“That happy, huh?”
“Yep,” I say, nodding as our gazes collide through the mirror. “That fucking happy.”
Zoey just smiles, and I lift my chin just the slightest. “Come here,” I tell her, holding out the shaver. “Finish this for me so I don’t walk out of here looking like a troll.”
Zo laughs and scrambles around, handing me the kitten as she stands on the chair and takes the shaver. I brace my other hand against her hip, keeping her steady in case she falls, and with that, she turns the shaver back on and takes away any hopes I might have had of a killer mohawk.