"You sound happy," Grandma says. "Boy problems must be over."

I am happy. At least about the boy problems. The continuing vagueness about her condition—not so much. "It's good. He's... we're good."

"Good how?"

I fall onto my bed on my back. Press my cell to my ear. It's just good. What else is there to explain? "He forgave me and we—"

"Had makeup sex?"

"Grandma! I swear. You're a pervert."

"Everyone's a pervert, Kay-bear. It's just I don't give a fuck about hiding it. You won't either when you're my age."

"Maybe." A lot of my thoughts are about sex. Dirty sex. And so are Brendon's. And Em is always talking about it. And Dean is obviously dirty as hell. "There's merit to that argument."

"I hate to be a parent—"

"Then don't."

"But if your mother finds out about this—"

"I know. But she can't. I can't afford to rent my own place. And she and Dad can't afford to cover my expenses. This is the only way."

"What if it doesn't work out?"

That's a strong possibility. Brendon doesn't want complicated. And I'm complicated. This whole situation is hopelessly complicated. "I'll figure it out."

"You have somewhere to stay if you need to?"

"Why would I?"

"You never know with men."

"I know."

"You have a place or not?"

"Yeah." Ryan, Dean, and Walker have all made blanket you can crash at my place anytime offers. And plenty of my coworkers like me enough to offer their couch. "I have places."

"Good. Then tell me more about the boy."

"After you help me pick a weekend to visit. The prices are crazy for the next two weeks. But all the weekends after are good. All the way until Thanksgiving. And after. But you won't talk me out of coming before Thanksgiving."

"You should be focusing on school."

"It's a weekend."

She lets out a soft sigh. "It's too expensive."

"It's only a few hundred dollars. I have money saved."

She's quiet for a minute. "Anytime is fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

I look to my computer screen. There are a million options. I find the soonest one that doesn't cost a fortune. It leaves on a Friday morning. The Friday morning after that concert.

I'll be tired at the airport, but that's all the better for sleeping on the plane.

"You think Mom can pick me up from Newark?" I fill in the form. Name. Address. Credit card.

"You're telling her about this?"

"I guess so." Mom has been arguing I shouldn't come. Grandma too. It doesn't make sense. At all. But I can't piece things together from voice alone. I need to look them in the eyes. I need to see for myself. And I will. I'll know in two and a half weeks. "There. I did it. I'll forward you the itinerary."

"Sure. Now tell me more about the guy."

"You know everything about him."

"I know he's tall and hot. That's it."

"He's quiet. Usually, with other people, he's more to himself. But when he's with me, he laughs. And when he smiles... it's like the clouds part and the birds sing. He has the most beautiful smile."

"You're smitten."

"I know. He... he's everything." I get caught up in my gushing. And, for a while, I forget why I'm flying back to Jersey.

I forget that Grandma is sick.

That she won't tell me how sick.

I forget that everything isn't going to be okay.

* * *

After I hang up with Grandma, and finish most of my homework, I boot up a project that's been kicking around my head forever.

My first real piece of original fiction.

Only it's currently three sentences.

He has beautiful lips. They're soft, plush, the perfect shade of rose-pink. I want to dive into those lips and swim forever.

It's supposed to be a coming of age story. About a girl who wants a boy she shouldn't have.

I know, I know, it sounds autobiographical. But it's not. That's the problem. Everyone who reads this will think it's about me.

Or worse, that it's about me and Brendon.

This is the scene where they meet. I have it all in my head. He's across the room at a coffee shop. Sitting there. Reading. Some stranger she never expects to see again.

Until her best friends comes in. Kisses him. Introduces him as her boyfriend, the one who just moved to town.

I have plenty to say about his eyes. His concentration. His hands.

But after that...

It's scary, jumping into a project that will be all mine.

What if I can't do it?

I want to. I want to prove I can. To myself and to Grandma. If she's sicker than she's letting on, if there really isn't much time, then I want her to know I'll be okay.

That I'll keep doing the thing I love, the thing that brings us together.

It's an ugly thought.

If Grandma's dying.

But I let it flow through me. I let it tighten my throat. I let it sit on my chest. I let it make the warm room cold.

I let it make the—

Oh.

There's a knock on my door. Then Brendon's voice. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." My voice is soft. It's hitting me there. "Come in."

He steps inside. Presses the door closed with his back. He looks the same as always—jeans, t-shirt, bare feet—but there's something different about him today. An expression. I don't know how else to explain it.

"Kay." He moves to me. Drops to his knees in front of me. His palm presses against my cheek. A tear catches on his thumb. "What's wrong, angel?"

I want to collapse in his arms and tell him everything. Not just Grandma but all the other ugly stuff in my head. Those words are clutching at my throat.

I need someone to know.

I need them to know and to stay.

"Grandma. I don't know. She keeps saying she's okay. That Mom is over-reacting. That she has plenty of time. But I don't know if I believe her."

He takes my hand between his. Rubs the space between my thumb and forefinger with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Kay."

"Thanks." I blink and a tear catches on my lashes. I've been pushing this away for so long. Can I really hit the release valve? I might overflow. "I just... I don't know what to do. Everyone is treating me like a kid. Like they need to protect me from reality. So I don't know how bad it is. If she's dying... how am I supposed to live in the world without her?"

His eyes meet mine. He nods. An I'm listening kind of nod.

I like that he does that.

That he lets me talk.

Okay, I like almost everything about him.

More even.

"She was my first friend," I say. "She taught me so much. And she's still my confidant. As much as Em is. As much as you are."

"I remember her. She was—"

"Weird?"

His laugh is soft. "Yeah. Fun."

"She is. She's bold and strong and alive. How can someone like that be dying?"

He rubs my hand with his thumb. "It happens to all of us. I know that doesn't help. But—"

"I know. I just... I don't want it to be her. She's supposed to be around to read my first novel. To see my college graduation. To see my wedding. To meet my... well, I don't know if I'll have kids. But if I do. Their lives will be so much richer if they can meet her." I blink back another tear. "I'm sorry. You don't... you don't have anything and I'm—"

"It's not a contest."

"But—"

"Even if it was, you love your Grandma. She loves you. My parents—"

"You didn't love them?"

His eyes go to the hardwood floor. "Things were bad for so long. It's hard to remember anything but my mom staring at me like I was toxic."

"You're not."

He reaches up to brush a hair behind my ear. "Everybody hurts, Kay."

"Like the REM song?"

He laughs. "No. Well, yeah. You can tell me. Anything. You never need to apologize for what's in your head."

I hope that's true.

That he'll accept anything.

I press my lips together. I practice the words in my head. Brendon, I have to tell you something. Something I've never told anyone. I'm broken. I'll always be broken. But I want you to love me anyway.

I can't do it.

I can't open that valve either.

I need to shove all these feelings back to the box where they belong.

So I can make it through...

Through something. I don't know.

His fingers skim my temples as he pulls my glasses off my face. "You miss her?"

"Yeah. It's been good talking more on the phone. But she sounds so alive. Every time she laughs, I think it might be the last time."

He nods. "Are you going to see her?"

"I finally got tickets. In two weekends. It's the day after the concert actually."

"I'll take you to the airport."

"Yeah?"

"Of course." He runs his fingers through my hair. "Anything."

"Will you be there? If she... if she does die."

He stares up at me. "Your parents will realize—"

"I know."

"They won't let you stay here."

"I know."

"You're okay with that?"

Maybe. I don't know. But— "I'll need you there. I'm not sure I'll survive any other way."

"Then I'll be there."

It calms something in me. More than it should. I do trust him. With almost anything. "What was it like when you found out?"

" It was matter of fact. I got this call that told me my parents were in critical condition. By the time I got to the hospital, they were gone."

"Do you wish you'd said goodbye?"

"I don't think about it. I didn't have time. I had to figure out how to be a fucking parent. By the time I had space to breathe, it hurt less."

So he stayed busy. That's good advice. I can do that. I can do busy. But then— "Have you ever stopped and felt it?"

"It's hard to find a part of me that misses them."

"Really?"

"I know. I sound like a piece of shit—"

"No, I get it."

"I'm sure it will be worse for you, Kay. But I'll be there. With whatever you need."

I slink off my chair and wrap my arms around him.

He presses his lips to my forehead.

We stay linked together, breathing together, hearts beating together for ages.

Until there's a sound downstairs. The door opening. And Emma announcing her arrival.

Brendon plants a soft kiss on my lips. "Tomorrow."

I'm not sure what he's promising, just that I want it.

He pushes himself to his feet and slips into the hallway. His footsteps move toward his room.

I push myself into my chair.

Then Emma's footsteps are moving up the stairs and she's knocking on my open door. She peeks inside. "Kay. What happened?"

"Grandma."

She moves into my room and plants on the bed. "You want to talk about it?"

I nod.

And I do.

I tell her a lot.

But it's not enough.

I'm still lying to her about Brendon.

I'm still hiding a huge piece of myself from her. From everyone.