Fighting For You (Bragan University Series Book 2) Read online

“What makes you say that?” I ask.

  “Shit, if we’re gonna have a conversation about feelings, we’re gonna need to go for a drink.”

  “You’re the one that wanted to talk!”

  “Because I’m a good asshole. I’m gonna hit the shower real quick,” he says, “You should too; you stink.”

  I follow him into the showers. “Where are we going?”

  A chuckle escapes his lips. “Eclipse.”

  “Do we have to sit and talk about our feelings?” I don’t know if I can put mine into words, even knowing that this is probably exactly what I need to do.

  “We can either talk or drink so much we forget our names. Either way, you look like you need a friend.”

  “That doesn’t sound half-bad.” I need a distraction now that practice is over. Maybe a few drinks are just what will get the job done.

  “Do you want it to be just us, or do you want the rest of the guys to join us?”

  “Should I be preparing for an intervention?” I say half-jokingly.

  He nods. “If that’s what you need, we can do that.”

  “I don’t think a full intervention is necessary just yet.”

  “Let’s just do the two of us, then,” Zack says, surprising me. He’s the type of guy that doesn’t settle down with any girl, the guy that teases Colton about being ‘whipped’, yet here he is, being extremely caring about my feelings.

  “Thanks,” I tell him genuinely, glad to have him in my life.

  “Don’t thank me, you’re paying,” he says with a chuckle.

  “If that’s the price I must pay.”

  He smirks. “My company is expensive.”

  These guys have taught me that brothers aren’t always blood.

  29

  Blacking Out

  Zoe

  The one thing I didn’t miss while at the hospital was attending classes, but it’s a welcome distraction. I’m buried in homework, with no time for anything else. That’s the approach I’ve taken with the whole Jesse thing—pretend it didn’t happen. I won’t cry. I won’t stay in the dorm moping around. I’m just going to pretend it’s all okay until it really is.

  Despite how much having my work pile up on my desk sucks, it’s really a privilege for me to have it in the first place. I know I’d never choose the hospital over this.

  Second chance, new approach. I’m going to start appreciating things more and complaining about them less. Let’s see how long that lasts.

  I finish typing the last word on the history essay regarding colonization and save the document. I email it to myself, and then throw my folder in my bag. I have a few minutes to go over to the library and print the essay before I turn it in. The professor says if it’s not in his hand a minute before class officially starts, then it’s an automatic F on the assignment.

  Rushing out of the room, I slam the door closed behind me and forego the elevator, choosing to take the stairs. I run down the steps like they’re on fire. Zooming out of the front door, I run in the direction of the library. I should’ve started this paper when the professor assigned it instead of waiting for the last minute.

  If Emma were here right now, she would’ve said ‘I told you so,’ and she would be right.

  Emma: one.

  Zoe: zero.

  Approaching the student printing center, which is on the first floor of the library, I log on to the nearest computer, finding the document I’d emailed to myself, and hit print. As always, I have to run over to another computer and log on there too so that it finally releases my assignment. I watch each page print slowly as I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Six minutes. I have six minutes to get from this end of campus to the other. Six minutes to have this essay in my professor’s hand before it’s too late.

  Five minutes now because the freaking printer is taking forever. For a second, I think it’s going to jam, and I swear my heart skips a beat.

  Four minutes, and the last piece of paper finally prints. Grabbing my ten-page paper, I run over to the stapler and clip it on the top left as quickly as I can. I run out of there because there’s no way I’m going to make it otherwise.

  Three minutes, and I’m outside, running toward the building my class is in.

  Two minutes, and I can see the building. My breathing is heavy, and I think about how maybe I should spend more time working out at the gym instead of moping over someone that wasn’t mine to begin with.

  I look down at my watch as my feet keep moving. One minute. One minute, and I’m making my way up the steps and into the building. My adrenaline is peaking, like I’ve run a marathon.

  Thirty seconds, and I can see the door to my classroom. I don’t slow my steps because I know the professor wasn’t joking when he said it had to be in his hands a minute before class starts.

  Finally, I reach the door and walk inside, where the professor waits with a hand extended. My heart is beating too fast, my breath escaping me just as quickly. I give the professor the assignment, turn and blink. My head is spinning, the room nothing but a blur. With a gasp, I’m transported back to freshman year—back to the last time this happened.

  Black.

  All I can see is black—shadows and darkness shifting uneasily. I suck in a shallow breath when the fragments of moments come together to form a very unclear picture behind my eyelids. In one frame, I’m arriving at class, handing my professor my essay. In the other, I’m falling to the ground, my body weak. In the third fragment, I hear panicked noises and sounds of people screaming, asking if I’m okay…but I can’t answer them. It feels like I’m not there.

  The distinct sound of an ambulance rouses me, but despite how much I try, I can’t open my eyes. Then, I feel myself being moved.

  Finally, everything goes dark again.

  I manage to pry my eyes open briefly and realize I’m being wheeled into a hospital. The smell, the walls, and the sounds reminding me of every time I’ve been here before. Deja vu. The familiar fear consumes me.

  I’m scared.

  I’m scared of being here again. I’m terrified I didn’t actually get a second chance, but a prolonged first one. I’m afraid I’ve lost the battle I thought I’d won.

  My eyes open and close as I’m taken to the examination room. In there, all I can focus on are the overhead lights. The oxygen mask is doing little to ease my breathing, and although there are mouths moving and conversations happening, I can’t make anything out.

  Water.

  Drowning.

  I feel like I’m being submerged in the ocean and despite how much I try, I can’t get myself to come back up. I can’t get myself to find air, to breathe. So, I give up. I stop trying. That’s when I feel myself lose grip of my reality and give in to the darkness once again—the darkness that beckons me.

  JESSE

  I grab my coffee from the student worker at the café and start walking toward the table where the guys are chatting. On the way, I pass by Emma, who’s sitting with her nose buried in a book.

  “Hey,” I say, giving her a little wave. I don’t know if she’ll reciprocate, especially if Zoe told her everything that happened between us.

  She glances up, gives me a curt nod and returns to her story. Well, at least she didn’t throw the damn book at me.

  “Hey! Did you hear about your roommate?” someone says to Emma as I walk by the table. Instantly, my feet are planted in place. I’m hit with a gut feeling, a familiar feeling, that something’s wrong. I’ve felt this unease all morning, and I can feel it intensify now. It’s the same feeling I had when Zoe didn’t message me back. The feeling I couldn’t shake when I was headed to the hospital to see Hayley that day.

  “What about my roommate?” Emma bites back, ready to defend her friend.

  “She passed out in class this morning!”

  “She what?” I interrupt, the coffee falling from my hands and dropping to the ground.

  The girl speaking to Emma looks at me, frowning. “Yeah, Zoe fainted in class.”
/>   “What happened?” I’m infuriated by the lack of information I’m getting, and by the look on Emma’s face, she is too.

  “She was handing the professor her assignment, then, all of a sudden, it was lights out. She was gone.”

  “Where did they take her? Where is she now?” I demand.

  “How is she?” Emma asks at the same time I do.

  “The ambulance came in. I’m surprised you didn’t hear it.”

  I’m seething, and this girl is acting like it’s a fucking joke.

  “Which hospital?” I ask, but I’ve already come up with the answer. If the ambulance picked her up, they would’ve taken her to the General hospital. They’d have seen her medical history and transferred her over to the Children’s.

  This can’t be happening. She can’t be...

  “I don’t know. I think they just take you to the nearest hospital.”

  Before she can finish her sentence, I’m running out of the café. It’s only when I get to the parking lot that I realize my car isn’t here; I didn’t drive today.

  “I got you,” Colton says from behind me, running straight to his car.

  “Thank you,” I answer, thinking the absolute worst case scenario right now. She fainted. She passed out.

  That’s a symptom of relapse, the voice inside my head tells me—the same voice that didn’t leave my side when Hayley was losing her fight.

  “Get in,” Colton says, and I’m a little shocked to see Chase and Emma already in the back seat. Everything is a bit of a blur. I sit back, foot tapping, headache building, and watch as Colton speeds in the direction of the hospital.

  Zoe.

  Please be okay.

  You can’t leave me.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Chase says, comforting me. For some reason, I realize it’s the nicest tone he’s ever used. That’s not good. It means he’s thinking the worst too, otherwise he’d be telling me to calm the fuck down.

  “It’ll be fine.” Colton echoes his best friend’s sentiments. I don’t say anything. I just sit here uncomfortably and drown in the emotions fighting to overtake me.

  Worry.

  Fear.

  Anger.

  I feel all of these emotions at once.

  Fuck cancer.

  Why have we figured out so much shit but not a cure for it yet?

  She needs to live.

  She can’t relapse.

  This can’t happen.

  Not again.

  I shut my eyes, trying to muster up some sort of inner strength. I tell myself this is different, but it does nothing to relieve the feeling that I’m walking a tight rope and one misstep means I lose everything.

  One wrong move, and I lose the only person who makes me feel things I thought had died with Hayley.

  Fuck.

  She can’t leave me.

  Not like this.

  Not thinking the worst of me.

  Not thinking I was just using her to get over Hayley.

  That couldn’t be further from the truth. I wasn’t using her to get over Hayley. I didn’t want to get over Hayley, I just did.

  Zoe was healing me.

  Zoe was giving me life.

  She needs to know I want her.

  I need her.

  I love her.

  I’m in love with her.

  The realization hits me at the same time that Colton’s foot hits the break in front of the hospital. I fly out of the front passenger seat, heading straight through the double doors and into the emergency room. Running over to the receptionist, I blurt out Zoe’s name, demanding to know where she is. She must’ve recognized me because she tells me where to find her.

  I run up the stairs because the elevator would be too slow. My vision is blurry, my heart hammering against my ribs.

  Not again.

  I make it to the oncology floor, where Zoe has spent the last year either living or visiting. I don’t walk, I run. I run to where I know she’s supposed to be waiting. There are no words I have prepared. No fancy speech. Nothing. The only thing I care about is her. I throw a prayer up to the same God I have prayed to many times before asking for healing. For health. For safety. Though I’m skeptical he’ll listen.

  Five doors, three doors, two doors, one. I come face-to-face with the room Zoe is in. I take a deep breath, forcing the negative thoughts out of my head, and open the door.

  Opening this door is like reliving a nightmare I’ve barely survived before.

  Like last time, the room is spotless. The bed is made. There are no creases, and no flowers, pictures, or active machines. Nothing.

  Dead.

  Dead like when you showed up after class, eager to talk to Hayley and tell her everything that happened at school so you could see her smile as she lived vicariously through you.

  Dead as her lifeless body in the casket.

  Dead.

  No. I won’t accept it. I refuse to accept the same fate twice. But even as I battle the voices inside of my head, my knees give out and I fall to the floor.

  “Zoe…” Her name falls from my lips like another prayer—praying for a different reality—but I know that it’s pointless.

  30

  House Calls

  Zoe

  “Someone’s here to see you,” my mother says as she lets herself into my bedroom. She’s sequestering me here against my will for the rest of the week. Who would’ve thought that exerting myself running would result in me passing out? Not me.

  “Who?” I ask as my mother stands there looking giddy. I wonder who it could be. Emma, maybe? She must’ve heard what happened by now; I’m sure the news made it around the whole school by the time I was placed in the back of the ambulance.

  “You’ll see,” she says cryptically.

  “Mom!” I call to her retreating figure, but she ignores me. I hear voices out in the hallway, and I lean forward a little, trying to catch any clues as to who it might be.

  I’m stunned when I see a familiar face at the door. Jesse knocks on the door frame awkwardly. “Mind if I come in?”

  For a moment, I’m happy until I remember the last time we spoke. I feel my smile drop.

  When I say nothing, he lingers near the door, reminding me of the first time I met him.

  “Hey,” he says quietly.

  I keep my eyes lowered, not ready to get lost in his unwavering, questioning gaze. “Hello.”

  “How are you doing? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” My words are clipped—to the point.

  “Are you sure? What happened?”

  I glance up, feeling disrespectful for not looking at him while he speaks. “Nothing.”

  “It’s obviously not ‘nothing.’ You fainted in class. An ambulance took you to the hospital, and now you’re in bed. Something happened,” he says, frustrated, and I search his face.

  “I was trying to turn something in on time, but I was late, so I ran. I guess I wasn’t supposed to do that, and that’s why I fainted. Dr. Roman said I’m fine.”

  He sighs out loud, and neither one of us says anything else. I shift uncomfortably on the bed, hating how thick the tension is as the silence stretches between us.

  “What do you want anyway?” I spit out. It’s nice that he showed up to make sure I was okay, but that’s not what I need from him. His internship is over, and so is our friendship.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says, walking slowly toward me and taking a seat on the corner of my bed. I lean back against the headboard, watching him—keenly aware of the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way the color returns to his cheeks.

  “I’m okay.” At least physically. Emotionally, it’s a whole different story.

  “What happened? I didn’t get many details at the hospital.”

  My eyes widen. “You went to the hospital?”

  “Yeah, I …” he starts, stops, then scratches his head as if debating how much to say.

  “I’m okay,” I tell him, fee
ling the need to reassure him.

  “You ended up in the hospital…” he says like he’s trying to process it all.

  “They did some tests, but everything is okay.”

  “No relapse?” he asks, and I realize his mind went to the same place mine did—worst case scenario.

  “Nope,” I answer. I was just as relieved as he looks now. I wasn’t sure I’d win if I had to fight cancer again.

  “God, you have no idea how worried I was at the thought of you being in a hospital again,” he says, and it’s followed by an intake of breath that looks almost painful.

  “I have an idea.”

  “You still don’t know what it feels like—to have someone you love lie in a hospital bed, fighting cancer.” He gets up and starts to pace. “You don’t know what it feels like to find out that the person you love…that the girl you love ended up in the hospital,” he finally spits out, and I stare at him blankly.

  “You don’t know what it’s like to drive to the hospital and run all the way up to where she’s supposed to be,” he continues, “and find that she’s not there anymore. You have no idea what I felt!” His voice has risen, cracking slightly at the end. He stops pacing, turns toward me, and meets my gaze. Through his eyes, he shows me the pain, struggle, fear, and worry. I see everything I’ve felt in the past couple of hours.

  “Yes, I lost my high school girlfriend to cancer. I should’ve told you about her, but I didn’t want to. I was trying to hold on to the past. For so long, she was the center of my world. For so long, she was the person I was doing everything for, my motivation,” he says, and I fight the tears threatening to fall.

  Why is he here? Why is he telling me all this now? Why is he breaking me again?

  “She was the only person I ever wanted to be with. And when she passed away, I didn’t think I’d ever be with anyone else. That’s what I told myself. But when I went inside that hospital room and you weren’t there…”

  He stops pacing and sits beside me, close enough to touch me if he wanted.