Page 35 of I’m Already Gone

I eyed the box expectantly. He’d never given me a present before.

“Or are you going to keep staring at it, hoping it’ll open on its own?” he asked.

“Shut up.” A genuine laugh bubbled up despite my sore throat, making him grin even wider.

I carefully pulled the satin lilac bow off and unwrapped the tissue paper. My eyes widened. “Oh, Ethan…”

Inside the box was a purple-themed care package. Nestled among crinkled paper was a purple flannel blanket, a pair of ridiculously soft, purple-striped, fuzzy socks, a silky sleep mask with cartoon eyelids etched on it, a couple of calming bath bombs, a tube of lavender lip balm, and a sleek, purple insulated tumbler. The tumbler was already filled with small packets of chamomile tea, and a variety of my favorite snacks were tucked into the corners: mini caramel candies, fruit snacks, and a bag of sour gummy worms.

He reached in, pulling out a small, folded note, and held it out for me. My eyes traced the familiar loops and curves of Ethan’s handwriting.

I will always be there for you. Even when things are at their worst.

I looked up at him, my puffy eyes meeting his. The teasing glint he had in his eyes faded, replaced by something deep and incredibly tender. My heart felt warm and full. His thumb brushed my cheek.

“Promise,” he whispered, his smile softening.

Being sick still sucked, but with him here, it sucked a whole lot less.

“Hey, want me to read to you before I head out?” Ethan asked, coming out of the bathroom.

My grin widened, accompanied by a pleasant sensation that radiated through me. This had been his thing since we were kids.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, pulling the blanket a little higher. “That’d be nice.”

He nodded, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips, and detoured to the bookshelf. He skimmed the spines with his fingers, eventually plucking one out. Spinning on his heel, he walked back to the bed and nudged my foot with his hand. “Scoot your cute little butt over.”

I chuckled but did as I was told, keeping the blanket tucked snugly up to my chin.

He settled beside me on top of the covers, stretching his long legs out.

I squinted at the book in his hand and its familiar, slightly worn cover. “Pride and Prejudice?” I asked, then coughed.

He gave me a deadpan side-eye, a corner of his mouth twitching. “It’s your favorite. Now shut up and let me read to you.”

I sighed contentedly, a smile still playing on my lips, and sank further into the bed. I closed my eyes, listening to the soft rustle of pages, the familiar comfort of his voice, low and steady, beginning to fill the room.

I drifted off to sleep, feeling lucky to have an amazing best friend and boyfriend by my side, looking after me, snot and all. His empathy and the simple act of caring for me meant the world to me. I prayed that this feeling would never go away and that the feeling of never being alone would last forever.

Lily

Sitting on the stool in the shop’s kitchen, my forearms begin to burn from kneading the dough. Each steady push and pull keeps me grounded as I wrestle with my racing thoughts. The constant monologue has been playing on an endless loop in my mind about how I am going to shatter my family’s world with the one word: cancer. I even tried to convince myself to blurt it out, like ripping off a Band-Aid. But there is no easy way.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the bell above the door, alerting me that someone has stepped into the bakery.

“I’ll be right there!” I call out. Standing up from the stool, I wash my hands and wipe down my black apron.

I make my way toward the front counter and freeze when I see Ethan.

What is he doing here? He hasn’t set foot in this bakery since everything fell apart.

Oh, my God. Something has happened to our children.

“Is everything okay?” I ask calmly, even though I feel anything but that.

“Hey, Lily,” he greets me, his voice as smooth as aged whiskey, a sound that soothed me when we were together.

“Is everything okay?” I ask again.