Page 68 of We Drank the Dawn

“Doesn’t it, though?” I shoved a hand through my hair. “You’ll be widowed, Sarah. At nineteen years old. The rest of your life will be defined by that.”

“And losing my fiance won’t define my life?”

Our age hit me like a ton of bricks. Was I irresponsible to even ask her right smack in the middle of college? We hardly had enough money for proper dinners between us, and I popped the question like a stubborn bull. All I wanted was her with me forever. But maybe I’d been selfish not to prepare a better future for Sarah. And now, even if I survived cancer, I’d be chasing my tail, dealing with a flux of medical bills and so many doctor visits we’d be dizzy with them. I’d fall at least a semester or two behind in school and I might even lose my scholarships. Then what would I do?

She deserved a decent house, a stable income, and a husband that wasn’t teetering on the brink of death.

Sighing, I dropped my head on the headrest and closed my eyes.

The rain intensified, nearly drowning out the ability to have a conversation. “I think we should…not be engaged…during this time.”

Even though I wasn’t looking, I felt her glare shooting daggers at me. “So what? You want to break up? Or just go back to being boyfriend and girlfriend again?”

“No, I don’t want to break up.” I shook my head. “I just want to hit pause for a bit. This could change the landscape of our future, and I want to prepare and take care of you.”

“I don’t understand. I want to get married. No matter what that looks like.”

“You’re not thinking.” I shook my head. “This won’t be like a romance movie, Sarah. If you’re my wife and I die, you’ll be dealing with so much shit and paperwork and phone calls and doctors and a thousand other things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Let alone my brand new wife. If I had assets that could go to you or even some freaking life insurance, that might be different, but I don’t.”

“But what if I want all that headache?”

“You don’t, trust me.”

She scoffed, angry now. “How would you know what I want?”

I laughed a little then, casting her a smirk. “I’ve spent four years studying your fantasies. You don’t think I know you pretty well by now?”

“Apparently not. Because I sat by your side the first time.” Her white face pinked with anger. “And I’ll do the same thing regardless of our relationship status.”

“You’re going to miss your classes if you⁠—”

“I don’t care!”

“I care, Sarah. You need to get your degree so that you can take care of yourself.”

“Why? Why does it matter? Seriously, Peter. Who cares? I don’t give a rip about getting a college degree when the man I love is fighting for his life again.”

“I don’t want to be engaged while we walk through this because…” I scrubbed a hand over my face, frustrated. “It’s pressure, Sarah. Pressure on me to be something I’m literally going to be incapable of being. I’m not going to be able to provide while we go through chemo, and maybe I won’t even be able to after the fact. What if I have long term health complications? That happens to plenty of repeat chemo patients. I might have heart issues or nerve damage or chemobrain for that matter—maybe I won’t even be able to finish college or think through math problems anymore. Then what?”

My heart squeezed in my chest as possibilities flooded my brain, sending jittery feelings down my arms and up my spine. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck.

So much could go wrong.

A few beats of silence fell before she spoke. “So, let me get this straight…in your mind, it’s better for us not to be engaged so I can cut and run when things aren’t the best case scenario. Am I hearing you right? Because that sounds pretty crappy to me.”

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.” I waved my hands in a horizontal line, noting the way they trembled. “I want you to have a choice—no strings attached.”

At that, Sarah threw open her passenger door and water spiraled into the car, instantly soaking everything as she jammed the release on her seatbelt and stomped off into the rain. “Sarah! What the hell?”

But she slammed the door in my face.

My seatbelt clicked and cool water doused my hair as I ran after her. “Sarah, wait!”

Right as my fingers connected with her elbow, she whirled to face me, driving her finger into my chest. Water had already seeped into her shirt, turning the fabric see-through. Her face now hot with rage, she yelled, “If you think that we could ever go back to a no-strings kind of relationship then we clearly mean a lot more to me than we do to you.”

“Listen to me.” I held her elbows, not letting her escape, even though she struggled. “I did not say that. I adore you, and you know that. But I’m going to ruin your life if⁠—”

“It’s too late!” She shrugged me off with almost manic laughter. “My entire life, since seventh grade, has been about you. Your relapse might as well be my own freaking relapse. If you die, I die. My life will be ruined either way, Peter. I would never come back from losing my best friend⁠—”