CHAPTER 23
STELLA
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel sick.
I grab on to Will’s hands as we slip across the surface of the ice, laughing as we struggle to keep our balance. I squeal as I lose mine, letting go of his arms so I don’t drag him down with me, and I fall hard on my butt.
“You good?” he asks, laughing harder.
I nod happily. Better than good. I watch as he takes off at a run, whooping as he slides across the ice on his knees. Watching him makes the hurt from Poe less blinding, filling my heart up to the brim, even though it’s still in pieces.
My phone rings in my pocket, and I ignore it like I have for most of the day, squinting into the distance at Will as he skitters across the pond. The phone finally stops, and I slowly stand, but then it starts chirping loudly, texts coming in one after the other.
I pull out my phone, annoyed, looking down to see my screen filled with messages from my mom, from my dad, from Barb.
I expect to see more messages about Poe, but different words jump out at me.
LUNGS. THREE HOURS UNTIL THEY ARRIVE. WHERE ARE YOU???
Stella. Please reply! LUNGS ARE ON THEIR WAY.
I freeze, the air sucking straight out of my current shitty lungs. I look across the pond at Will, watching as he spins slowly around and around and around. This is what I wanted. What Abby wanted. New lungs.
But I look across the pond at Will again, the boy I love, who has B. cepacia and will never get the opportunity in front of me.
I stare at my phone, my mind whirring.
New lungs means hospital and meds and recovery. It means therapy, and potential for infection, and enormous pain. But, most important, it means I’d be apart from Will now more than ever. Isolation, even, to keep the B. cepacia far away from me.
I have to choose now.
New lungs?
Or Will?
I look up at him and he smiles at me so wide that it’s not even a contest.
I shut my phone off and launch myself across the ice, sliding and skidding my way over, before crashing at full force into him. He grabs on to me, barely managing to hold on and keep us from slamming into the ice.
I don’t need new lungs to feel alive. I feel alive right now. My parents said they wanted me to be happy. I have to trust I know what that is. They’re going to lose me eventually, and I can’t control that.
Will was right. Do I want to spend all my time left swimming upstream?
I push off him and try to spin, throwing my arms out, my face turned toward the starry sky. Twirling around and around on the slick ice, I hear his voice.
“God, I love you.”
The way he says it is so soft and real and the most wonderful thing.
My arms drop and I stop spinning, turning to face him, my breathing coming in short gasps. He holds my gaze, and I feel the same pull I’ve always felt toward him, an undeniable gravity that dares me to close the gap between us. To step across every inch of the five feet.
So this time, I do.
I run to Will, our bodies colliding, our feet giving way as we tumble to the ice, laughing as we land together. I pull his arms around me, resting my head on his chest as the snow falls around us, my heart beating so loud, I’m almost sure he can hear it. I look up at him as he leans in. Each magnetic breath he takes pulling me closer.
“You know I want to,” he whispers, and I can almost feel it. His lips meeting mine, cold from the snow and the ice, but absolute perfection. “But I can’t.”
I look away and rest my head on his coat, watching the snow fall. Can’t. Can’t. I swallow the familiar feeling that pulls at my chest.
He’s silent again, and I feel his lungs rising and falling underneath my head, a sigh escaping his lips. “You scare me, Stella.”
I look up at him, frowning. “What? Why?”
He looks into my eyes, his voice serious. “You make me want a life I can’t have.” I know exactly what he means.
He shakes his head, his face somber. “That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever felt.”
I think back to when we met, then him teetering on the edge of the roof.
He reaches out, his gloved hand gently touching my face, his blue eyes dark, serious. “Except maybe this.”
We’re silent, just looking at each other in the moonlight.
“This is disgustingly romantic,” he says, giving me a lopsided smile.
“I know,” I say. “I love it.”
Then we hear it. Criiick, crack, crick. The ice groans beneath us. We jump up, laughing, and scramble together, hand in hand, to solid ground.