CHAPTER 8

 

 

 

I think of the stars

And wonder if your dust

Mingled with mine

Would create new suns

With new sunrises

-Tessa

 

 

 

TESSA

 

She parked her car beside his bus. No one else appeared to be home.

The beach house sat quiet in the golden rays of the setting sun. A deceitful calm which belied what she was about to walk into.

Or at least what she was afraid she was walking into.

The entire drive over, her mind had been a carousel of thoughts. All she could think about was that Kip’s blue bus was the prettiest shade she’d ever seen and she wondered if it was an original color or if it was custom. She was also wondering if he’d ever been camping in the back of the bus. And that thought led to her picturing herself camping with him—which was where her brain would loop back to the start. And she wondered at the sky-blue bus she was following.

Bringing her vehicle to a full stop seemed to trigger all of the fears that had been held at bay during the drive.

And underneath the fear was the sickening sensation that she was already too deep with him. They were new friends. Not the kind to share life and death secrets with.

Yet she felt a certain measure of betrayal even though she knew she had no right to it.

Why was her attachment to him so strong? It didn’t make sense; they had barely just met. But since that day, and every day after, he had become increasingly important to her.

Important. Significant. Consequential.

How was she supposed to ask the questions she had? All the words in the world were swirling through her mind with no hope of reasonable sentences spontaneously appearing.

She stepped out of her car and removed her work blazer. She hadn’t gone home to change. Hadn’t even considered it.

That left her in her high-waisted dove gray pencil skirt and a pale pink satin cami.

As her gray pumps clomped up the wooden steps, she decided she’d shed those once she was inside.

Kip opened the door just as she reached the top. His normally open expression was guarded. Reserved.

“Hey,” she said as he stepped aside to let her through.

She kicked her shoes to the corner where they were engulfed in the pile of over-sized man sneakers. Her bare feet on the wood floor had a grounding effect and she stilled—both in body and mind.

“Have you—uh, did you tell anyone?” Kip asked, averting his gaze and swallowing hard.

Tessa was taken aback. “No. Of course not.”

He closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t even know what to tell… or to whom…who? Whom?”

Kip’s lips twitched with the hint of a smile and Tessa reached for it.

Her fingers grazed his cheek as she cupped the side of his face and her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth.

“Are you going to ruin my day?” she asked, a tightness erupting in her chest at the thought that this beautiful man had a terrible secret.

Kip’s hand covered hers and he forced a smile. “I sure hope not.”

He gripped her hand in his and led her into the kitchen where he nodded to the chair she’d occupied just a few days ago.

“How do you feel about homemade dumplings?” he asked, opening and closing cupboards.

“I feel hungry towards them,” she answered honestly.

Normally, a person doing an activity of any kind while she waited for more information would cause her to think they were avoiding the subject.

But she’d realized with Kip he needed to be using his hands in order to get his thoughts in order.

So, she waited.

“When I was sixteen I was diagnosed with Classical Hodgkin Lymphoma.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you know what that is?”

She swallowed and nodded her head. She knew enough anyway. Her job required her to know all the major cancers.

The definition popped into her head, as if being accessed by a search engine filtering through her brain.

Classical Hodgkin Lymphoma: A cancer of the immune system—marked by the presence of a type of cell called the Reed-Sternberg cell. There are four subtypes based on the shape of the cancer cells. Childhood Hodgkin Lymphoma often occurs in adolescents between 15-19 years of age.

Kip sprinkled some flour onto his workspace on the counter.

“It was fairly advanced when they caught it and we—I—chose to undergo high dose chemo stem cell replacement.”

“That’s—uh…” Tessa tried to work moisture back into her mouth as pages flashed before her eyes detailing the many types of treatment and specifically what her company contributed to.

Kip nodded solemnly at her. He knew what she knew. His treatment had been painful and intense.

“So, as a result, I missed quite a bit of school.”

“Is that why I don’t remember you?” she asked, her voice sounding foreign in her own ears. Foreign and afraid.

Kip hummed in contemplation. “Maybe. But when I was there I didn’t exactly look the same. I was skinny and my hair was thinning. I never lost it all, but I lost a lot. Mostly on top. My friends think I just went bald prematurely.”

“Your hat…” She put together the clues. He always wore the beanie. But especially around his friends. Sometimes he took it off around her. Was that because he felt comfortable around her? Or was it simply an oversight?

He nodded as if he could read her mind. “I always wear it.” He dipped his head to the side in her direction. “Except with you. Sometimes.”

Why me? Am I important? Does his heart do that weird skip thing that mine does when we laugh at the same time?

Focus. Breathe.

Tessa followed her own advice and took an extra breath to redirect her attention.

“But your friends…don’t they know?” she asked, not sure if she believed that a person could hide something as huge as cancer from their closest friends.

“No.” His jaw tightened, and he pursed his lips. “No one knows.” He glanced over at her again. “Just you.”

Okay. So her heart did that weird skip when he looked at her like that too. Or maybe it was the words he’d said and all that they implied.

Skip.

“Wait.” Tessa placed the fingertips of one hand on the table and she frowned in disbelief. “You went through this major life altering event, and you never told anyone?”

He shrugged one shoulder and watched his hands work. “I didn’t want anyone to worry. I wanted at least one part of my life to be untouched by it. They would have treated me…different.”

Tessa’s lips parted but she had no words.

“And it’s not a big deal. Not now anyway. I’ve been ‘better’ for more than ten years. There’s no reason to tell anyone now.”

“Then what were you doing at the doctor’s office today?” she reminded quietly, knowing that after five years of being in remission a person was usually declared “cancer free” and only went back for checkups when necessary.

He sniffed a soft laugh. “I had some weird symptoms crop up last week so I made an appointment with my oncologist just to check. I guess it still makes me jumpy.”

Tessa raked her fingers though her long hair, starting at the temples and ending at her crown where she gripped the strands and held on.

Small beads of sweat had begun to collect at her hairline and she wasn’t even surprised. What did surprise her was the amount of catastrophizing her mind was barreling through.

What if fill in the blank.

A never-ending fill in the blank.

It was a lot to process.

Kip must’ve sensed that she needed a minute because he kept working without saying anything further. For which she was thankful.

Because, what the ever-loving fork?

This not only explained why she didn’t remember him, but also why he was so into yoga. It was a common practice among cancer survivors to help handle stress and regain strength.

Her eyes burned as she pictured beautiful, thoughtful, sweet Kip going through rounds of painful chemo virtually alone.

No one should be alone.

Tessa had never had to be alone. (Which was probably why she was so upset with Spencer for bailing so often these days). But she knew, humans weren’t meant to be alone. They were social creatures despite society’s attempt to popularize the lone ranger mentality.

People needed people. It was just a fact.

That’s when it hit her that if she hadn’t caught him seeing his oncologist, she’d still be unaware. And that he hadn’t been planning on telling her.

Oh, that was some bullshit.

“Kip,” she said, dropping her hands into her lap.

He gave her his attention.

“Caring about people isn’t a burden.”

His eyebrows twitched carefully. “I know.”

“Caring about you isn’t a burden.”

He sucked in a breath and paused.

Tessa rolled her lips inward and stood. She clenched her hands into fists to help keep her focus.

It hurt.

The fresh pain of picturing a young man trying to cope with the kind of treatment he’d endured washed through her chest and burned her lungs. And not just any young man, but Kip. The tenderhearted and affectionate soul she was more than fond of.

It wasn’t fair.

Everything in her cried out to hold him, to shake him, to forbid him from doing that ever again.

But all the words pared down and down and down until she was left with the most basic and truest of sentiments.

“You’re probably not going to be very happy about this, but—” She shrugged, walking closer to him. “I care about you. And that sucks for you, because I’m not going to let you get away with keeping secrets from me. Especially big cancer-sized secrets.”

He tried to interrupt, but she was on a mission. She stopped him by throwing her arms around his neck and holding on tight. He hesitated for the briefest of seconds before his arms encircled her waist and pulled her close.

She buried her face in his neck, emotion clogging her throat. She fought back tears and won as she whispered in his ear.

“You’re important to me. And I care very much what happens to you.”

He didn’t say anything.

But his hug became crushing.

They stood there for a long time.

Just holding on.