12. Summer
Summer
The sun has barely crested when I open my eyes the next morning.
I wake alone. Chase’s spot is cold.
Popping my head up, I reach for the bedside and tap my phone to check the time.
5:04 a.m.
The chill morning air hits my exposed skin as I sit up, sending a shiver down my spine. I fell asleep in my sundress.
From downstairs, I hear the faint sound of a door clicking shut.
Ripping the covers back, I scan Chase’s room for a hoodie and tug it over my head before I go search for him.
I find him on the porch steps, barefoot, staring at the grass like he’s never seen something so interesting before. He’s wearing his headphones.
Our shoulders brush as I lower myself beside him and hug my knees. He tugs the earphones loose before shoving them into his pocket.
“What were you listening to?” I ask.
A brief pause before he speaks. “‘Yellow.’”
“Coldplay?”
“Yeah.”
I hum. “I love that song.”
“Me too.”
“Did you get any sleep?”
“A little.”
I look up at the sky. Deep blue bleeds to purple, then pink where it meets the horizon.
Eventually, Chase speaks again. “Dad called. They’re coming home soon.”
“Did he say how she’s doing?”
“Yeah. Said she must have had a seizure. Apparently, it’s normal.
” He huffs, dragging a hand through his hair.
“They did more scans, said the tumor’s pressing on something it wasn’t before.
Apart from that, nothing else has really changed.
They’ve given her some new medication to manage the seizures. ”
I knock his knee with mine. “Hey, that’s good. She’ll be happy to be home.”
He turns his head to look at me. “What was it like?” His voice is quiet. “For your mom, I mean. When she was diagnosed.”
“It was different from your mom. Mine had lung cancer.” I take a deep breath. “It was hard.” I stare at my chipped toenails, letting the memories surface. “My mom was my best friend. We did everything together.”
I remember the way her warm chocolate eyes would crease when she played the piano. How she’d close them and let her fingers take over, her body swaying to the melody. She made music look effortless. As if it lived inside her and she was letting it spill out.
“I think she knew she was sick for a long time before she did anything about it.”
“What makes you think she knew?”
“There were signs, but I was too young to recognize what they were. She was always tired. Really tired. No matter how much she slept, it was never enough. She got so thin. Her clothes that used to fit perfectly would hang off her. Her cheeks were sunken.” I swallow.
“Then she got a cough. It wasn’t bad, but it never went away.
It seemed like she had it forever. Whenever I’d ask about it, she assured me she was fine.
It was only a cold. I believed her because …
that’s what you do, right? You trust your parents. They’re supposed to protect you.”
I think of my father, how her death changed him, and my voice wavers. “By the time she couldn’t hide it anymore and my father convinced her to see a doctor, it was too late. Stage four. Her lungs were riddled with it … she died three weeks later.”
“Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry, Summer.”
“It’s okay.” I give him a small smile. “I’m lucky to have had her as my mom.
I think back to everything we did together—all the little blips—and get to cherish those memories forever.
” I brush a thumb over the pendant at my neck.
“After she died and things with my father got bad, I’d tell myself that I should have done more.
He hates me for it. I should have seen her falling apart in front of me and done something about it. ”
He shakes his head. “That’s not fair. You were only fourteen.”
“I know. But it doesn’t stop me from still wondering if he’s right.” I shrug.
“He’s not.” His voice is firm. “Is that when he started to …” He doesn’t finish.
I give a half shrug. Yes.
“Jesus.”
“Most days I forgive myself. I think she hid her sickness because she didn’t want me to know what dying looked like.” I rest my head against his shoulder. “Even though we didn’t have much time, I don’t feel like any of it was wasted.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “We might still have years.”
I peer up at him. “Then that’s what you hold on to.”
“What did you hold on to?”
A smile tilts my lips. “Music. Every time I play, every song I write, she’s there.”
Carefully, Chase takes my hand in his, linking our fingers together. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
He nods, and we sit there in silence, watching light slice through the clouds as the sun slowly rises. His phone beeps in his pocket. I let go so he can fish it out. He exhales as he reads the message.
“It’s Steele,” he says. “I told him I’d go to the bonfire tonight.”
“I heard about that. Addie messaged me on my break yesterday, begging me to go. Are you going?”
“I was. But now … I don’t think so.” His jaw tenses. “I don’t know.”
“If your mom’s okay, it might be a good idea. You know, get you out of the house for a while. Take your mind off it. It could be fun.”
He watches me for a moment. “Yeah, maybe. Are you going?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
He swallows. “If I go … will you?”
A bonfire isn’t as bad as a party. I could handle that if Chase is going. “Sure.”
“Okay.” He clears his throat. “Cool.”
My cheeks heat as we stay fixed on each other. He’s watching me the way he did the night of Xavier’s party. His eyes slightly hooded, dipping to my mouth. My heart races as the familiar pull returns, tugging me closer. I should resist. I need to resist. But then he shifts an inch, leaning in too.
Don’t do it, Summer. He’s hurting. He’s vulnerable. You’ll just create a mess.
I tear myself away just as Steele’s name flashes on his screen. Chase glances at it, then back at me, clearing his throat.
I stand, jerking my thumb over my shoulder. “I should get going.”
“You don’t have to,” he rushes.
I point to his phone. “He’ll be worried about you.”
I find the hem of his sweatshirt, lifting my arms to peel it off.
“Keep it,” he says.
A gentle smile crosses my face. “’Kay. I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah … I’ll see you later,” he says softly.
He hesitates before answering, twisting away to press the phone to his ear. “Hey, man … yeah, I’m all right. You? … Dad’s bringing her home now … I’m still coming.”
As I walk away, I feel the ghost of his skin against mine.
Once inside my house, I grab my notebook and pen and slide onto the bench at Mom’s old piano, ghosting my fingers over the keys.
I don’t play right away. Instead, I close my eyes and picture Felicity. Smiling and humming as she pipes icing onto cakes, passing me a spoon to scoop up the leftover mixture from the bowl, and my chest deflates.
My heart breaks for Chase and his parents and the long road ahead. Watching the person you love most fade away is a pain nobody can prepare you for.
Hearing about Felicity’s diagnosis serves as a reminder that everything we hold dear, the future we want for ourselves, our dreams, can all be taken away from us in the blink of an eye.
I alternate between playing a few chords and scribbling lyrics onto paper, continuing back and forth until the pages are tearstained and my chest loosens.
Then, I sing.