“What do you mean you didn’t want me to stop by?” I ask Stephanie as I try to organize her room the way it was a week ago. She came back to Breezy Beaches yesterday and refused to let me do anything last night. She said she needed to be alone and practically threw me out the door. Today, I didn’t care what she said, I came anyway even with her bitch-o-meter being at an eleven out of ten.

She sits on the bed, glaring at me. “You never fucking listen to me! I don’t want you to come! I’m tired, I’m finally back home and I want to just . . .” She pauses and then groans.

Today is a bad day. She’s struggling to string words together and is getting frustrated.

I wait and then the words burst out. “Settle in! I want to be in this hellhole alone.”

“I am listening. I haven’t really been with you a lot lately.” I try to explain. “I love you, Steph.”

She starts to cough and swats my hand away. “You were at the hospital every single day. I’m asking for a d-d-day to myself! Why is that so hard for y-you? Why can’t you let me be alone?”

I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m trying here. I’m doing the best I can.”

It breaks my heart when she’s like this. I never know what will happen, and fighting with her literally kills me. If tomorrow never comes, I don’t want this to be our last conversation. Whenever it goes down this path, I have to swallow my hurt and anger. I hide the pain and do what I can to try to turn this around. I know what regret feels like, and I never want that for us.

Stephanie goes quiet for a few minutes, touches my shoulder, and then releases a heavy breath. “I hate this f-f-fucking disease!” Tears fill her eyes, and I pull her in my arms. “You sh-shouldn’t have to be around me. I’m mean!”

Rocking back and forth with her in my arms allows me to keep my own tears at bay. It isn’t her fault that she’s having a bad day. It’s the way it goes. Her symptoms are worsening, and we both know it. The outbursts have become more frequent over the last few months, her speech is declining, and the medicine isn’t doing as much for her tremors. Yesterday, the doctor told me frankly that this is the beginning of the decline.

“You’re not mean, you’re doing the best you can.” I know this isn’t her fault.

“I didn’t want to come back here. I wanted to stay at the hospital for longer.”

“Why?” I ask and take her hand in mine. “You hate the damn hospital.”

“I miss Anthony. I liked seeing him every day. I liked knowing he’d stop by the room and talk to me like I wasn’t this poor d-dying girl. He saw me as a girl, woman, whatever . . . the point is that he saw me, Heather. Not the tremors, locking joints, problems remembering . . .”

I hate that anyone sees her that way at all.

“Did you call him?” I ask.

Anthony has been good for her. He was in her room after his shift each day, bringing her comic books and flowers. The bouquet of varying shades of vibrant purple and pink roses with plush hydrangeas mixed in that he brought her was breathtaking. I tried not to make a big deal of it, but the fact that Anthony cared so much made my heart swell.

“No, I’m not going to make him watch me die.” Stephanie is stubborn. She always has been, and I worry she’ll push him away without a chance of any happiness. On the other hand, I can’t imagine what knowing she is dying and having people she loves watch feels like to her.

What can I even say to that? She’s allowed to make her choices, and I have to understand that. Even though I think she’s wrong.

“I wish you’d tell him how you feel. He brought you flowers, and by the looks of it, he cares for you.”

I understand that Stephanie has her own set of issues, far more than I can comprehend, but it doesn’t mean she should just give up.

She snorts. “Okay, whatever. First, the flowers aren’t from him, which I’ve said three times. I told you they just appeared in my room. Second, is that what you’re doing with Eli? Are you telling him how much you want to spend time with him? Are you giving him even the slightest inclination of how much you actually like the guy? No? I didn’t think so.” Gone is the anger in her voice, all I hear now is challenge.

I guess it’s like the saying about glass houses and throwing stones. But it’s different for me. He’s complicated, rich, famous, and doesn’t live here. Why am I going to let myself get tangled in some crazy mess? I’m not.

Do I like him? Yup.

Do I wish I didn’t? Yup.

Does he listen to anything I’ve said regarding what he can expect? Absolutely not. He wormed his way in, and I’m pretty sure he has no intention to leave.

“It’s not the same. He’s got too many question marks around him.”

“You’re allowed to love again. You love me and I’m a giant unknown.”

Loving Stephanie was never a choice, it was absolute. Even with knowing the ending of our story, I wouldn’t make different choices. With Eli, I’m not there yet. I don’t have to let it get that far. Loving another gives them power, it can be beautiful, fulfilling, and as easy as breathing, but if I lose it again, it will destroy me.

I twist the fabric of my shirt in my hands, feeling the threads loosen and notice the similarities in my own life. Each time I think I’m together and secured, something starts to break the bond, and I tear.

“I won’t let myself fall for him, Steph. I like him, I won’t lie, but he’s leaving soon. His life isn’t in Tampa. I’m not moving. I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s going to be me who leaves you, Heather. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but we both know it’s coming.” A tear falls down her cheek and another follows suit.

“Don’t say that.” I beg.

“It’s the truth, and you have to come to terms with it.”

Tears spring in my eyes. I don’t want to lose my sister. The thought of living in a world without her is intolerable. I’ve lost more than any person should, and life isn’t done taking from me yet. Stephanie, she’s mine. I’ve cared for her, watched her grow, packed her lunch, dressed her for prom, and the idea that I won’t have her in my life is too much.

Sometimes it’s all just too much.

“We have time.” I will the words to be true.

“I’m saying that when I go, I want to know you’re okay. Don’t you get it? As much as you love me, I love you more. You are my whole heart, and you have no idea how much anger I have inside me about this d-d-disease. It’s taken everything from you, Heather. It took your money, your husband, your whole life! I need to know you have someone!”

“Stop it! Stop it right now!” I yell back at her, swiping the tears from my cheek. “We’re not going to do this.”

“We have to do this. We have to talk about it.”

I don’t want to. I want to forget and enjoy what time we have. I get to my feet and move around the room, trying to stop the tears that keep falling. I turn my back to her, looking out the window. Maybe I’m weak, but it’s easier than facing her. “I can’t lose you.” My voice cracks with so much pain that I could splinter.

“Heather, look at me.” I turn and meet her blue eyes that shimmer with unshed tears. “You will never lose me. We didn’t lose Mom and Dad, we just can’t see them anymore.”

This time, it’s my hands that are trembling. I move closer and reach out to touch her face. “I love you so much.”

“I know,” she murmurs.

“I hate this.”

“Me, too.”

“Do you forgive me for yelling? Are we good?”

Steph smiles and takes my hand. “If you want me to be good, you have to promise me you’ll stop pushing everyone away. You have to tell me that you’ll let your heart be open. Can you do that?”

I’ve never lied to Stephanie. It’s one thing that I’ve always prided myself on. I tell her the truth, consequences be damned. Words matter and promises are meant to be kept.

“I promise to try.”

Stephanie’s eyes narrow. “Try?”

“Yes, I’ll try to be open. I’ll try to let Eli in a little, or if not him, some other jackass who will only fuck with my head.”

That’s really what it comes down to . . . men are liars. They say they’re one thing and they never are. Matt said he loved me, that he’d honor and cherish me, and the first time shit got rough, he bailed. Cherish my ass.

“I swear, the older you get, the more dramatic you are. I think he’s different.”

“Based on all your time with him?” I challenge. She’s never met him, so I don’t know why she’s so quick to defend him. Maybe because he’s the first guy to actually try since Matt.

“No, based on the way your face lights up when you say his name.”

I don’t do that, do I? No. I don’t think I do.

She laughs and points at my face. “You even do it when you think of him.”

“Whatever.” I’m going to have to work on that. I really hope he doesn’t notice. He’s good at getting me to do things as it is, if he has a read on me, I’m screwed. I think back to our last date and how sweet he was. Not many guys turn down a chance to get laid, but he did. I fell a little bit for him in that moment.

It was the first time in a long time that anyone put my needs above their own. I’m usually the one who has to sacrifice, and it was nice to have the shoe go on the other foot.

“Earth to Heather!” She waves her hand in my face.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Uh-huh. Can you help me?” Stephanie asks.

My arm hooks under hers, and she slowly climbs out of bed. For the last month, her physical therapist has been pushing her to use her muscles as much as possible. She was in a wheelchair for four months, and with a lot of work, she was able to walk a little with the walker. That progress seems to be deteriorating as well. She sits up and stretches her limbs.

I watch my baby sister bite down whatever discomfort she’s feeling and get to her feet with shaky legs. I quickly move to support her. Her eyes say everything her voice doesn’t. The appreciation that I’m here and sorrow that she needs me shines as bright as the full moon outside the window. She and I take a few steps and grab the walker. We move without hurry through the halls as she tells me more about Anthony.

After another hour, I can see the exhaustion settling into her features.

“I’m going to head home. Can I see you tomorrow?” I know that I’m spending the day with Eli, but I need to see her. After the conversation earlier, I think we are both coming to grips with the future. My mother used to tell us to hold on to the things we can control and let everything else go. She insisted that wasting time was never a good thing. She was right. I can’t control Steph’s disease, but I can control how I handle the time we have left together. I’m going to make the most of it, cherish it, and hope I don’t break when it ends.

Steph smiles and touches my arm. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Do you think on our next date we can do something in the afternoon?” I ask Eli, who’s standing in my living room while I pour another mug of coffee. Last night was tough. I couldn’t fall asleep until after two, and not wanting to look like crap, I was up early fixing my face.

“Oh, we’re going on another date?” Mischief is laced in his deep voice. “I thought you weren’t into me? I thought you friend-zoned me? I knew you couldn’t resist.”

I walk out of the kitchen and roll my eyes. Damn him and all his arrogance. “You’re the one who keeps calling these dates and showing up at my house. If anyone is into anyone . . . it’s you who is into me.”

There. Take that. I’m not chasing him, and I’m going to remind him of that.

He shrugs and pulls me against him. “I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m into you.”

My arms rest on his shoulders, and I smile. “Sometimes I still think this is a dream.”

“Would you believe me if I said I feel the same, too?”

I shake my head, because I can’t see why he’d think that. Eli is the dream come true. He’s the wish upon a star that girls spend their nights hoping for. Yet, he’s in my living room. I can’t tell you the nights I would dream about this very thing happening.

“Well, I keep waiting to find something about you that I don’t like, but even the things that would normally annoy me, like trying to push me away so damn hard, only make me want you more. I’m just glad you’re starting to cave.”

“Who said I’m caving?” I goad him a bit. I enjoy our banter.

“I’d say the boat was a good indication I’m no longer friend-zoned.”

“I can put you back there if you’d like?”

Not that whatever we’re doing is serious. It’s only been two dates and one hell of a night. But it’s definitely more than friends. I mean, Brody is my friend, and we sure as hell don’t rip each other’s clothes off. We’ve gone fishing, and not once did I end up grinding against him.

Eli’s arms tighten, forcing my body to be even closer to his. “I don’t think I was ever there, and I don’t think friends do this.”

In an instant, his lips press against mine, and the flutter in my belly grows stronger. Eli’s musky cologne envelops me, and I commit it to memory. I want to remember each detail regarding this moment. How his lips feel against mine, the way the callus on his thumb roughly grazes the skin on my cheek, and how he tastes. It’s cinnamon and the hint of toothpaste. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll have this memory to hold on to.

His tongue seeks entrance, and I give it willingly. I don’t even pretend to fight him. I want it. When he touches me, I can’t help but find myself craving everything he’ll give. I tell myself, and everyone else, that there’s nothing here, but when he’s close, I can’t pretend. Eli breathes life into a heart that was deflated. A heart that never thought it would beat again is once again thumping at a steady pace.

He kisses me hard, forcing my feet to move with him. My back presses against the wall, and he pours himself into each movement. I’m trapped between the cool wood panel and the heat of Eli’s body.

Everything is a contrast between wanting more from him and wanting things to end before it’s too late to walk away.

I need him to leave, but I’m desperate for him to stay.

I say there’s nothing between us, and yet the idea of him leaving is enough to make me scream.

I drop the mug to the floor, not caring that it shatters. My fingers grip his neck as I hold his lips to mine.

I drown in this kiss.

I die in this kiss.

I come to life in this kiss.

Eli pulls back and gives me a cocky smirk. “Do your friends kiss you like that?”

Instead of telling him the truth—that no one kisses me like that—I inhale and then sigh. “You know, I’m not even sure that was a kiss. It felt . . . a little . . . weak.”

“Weak?”

“Yeah, it was okay, but you know . . . nothing to write home about.”

“Really?” He pushes his hips forward, allowing me to feel that he’s very affected by our kiss. My head falls back, and I use every ounce of strength inside to keep up my bravado. “You think so?”

“I’m just telling you how it is.”

I’m playing with fire and I welcome the burn. I see the heat in his eyes, and I’m more than willing to dance closer to the flames.

Eli studies me like a lion about to strike his prey. Each movement is calculating, and I know I’m going to be one happy gazelle. His lips hover above mine, washing his warm breath over my own. I keep my eyes open, playing the part I’ve created. My pulse races as he stares at me.

His hand grazes my neck, sliding down my shoulder before he runs his fingers across my arm. “I know you’re lying, baby. I know because of the way you kiss me.” His lips barely touch mine before he retreats, and I smother a whimper. “I know because I can feel how hot you are. I can see the way your body is asking for me, even if you’re not. If I touched you, Heather, would you come? Would you fall apart at my touch?”

I could come just from this. “Maybe you should find out.” I dare him again.

Eli smiles and leans back so we’re no longer touching. His hands frame my head, using the wall to keep him upright. “I have plans today for us, but tonight, baby . . . tonight we’re going to find out a lot.”

I move forward, kissing him softly. “We’ll just see about that.”