He shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly before focusing them on me again. “You mean everything to me,” he finally replies. Just looking at him makes my eyes well up with tears. I’ve seen pain time and time again, but Asher’s living in agony. “Please don’t cry,” he says, running his thumb along my cheek.

“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” I ask, wiping a couple tears from my cheeks. He ignores my question and turns his head to look out the window once again. “Will you please just talk to me?”

“I can’t—”

“Asher, whatever it is, please just tell me,” I plead, wrapping his hand in mine again.

He stays silent, shaking his head back and forth as tears pool in his eyes. He looks so broken . . . beautiful, yet broken. The more I press him, the more I see it. Have I been too buried in my own problems to see his?

“Please,” I plead again.

“I have cancer,” he blurts.

I swallow, trying to turn his words into something else. I couldn’t have heard him right. This can’t be happening. Not now, not to him.

“You what?”

He faces me and I can see the tears falling from his eyes. I hate seeing him like this. I absolutely hate it. “I’m dying, Kate. I have cancer.”

“You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re playing a joke on me.” I hear myself asking through the ringing in my ears.

He shakes his head, and I take a couple steps back. My whole body trembles uncontrollably as my emotions spill over. I must be standing in the middle of someone else’s life . . . this must be a nightmare. I can’t lose him.

“No . . . no . . . no . . . this can’t be happening,” I sob, feeling my knees getting weaker and weaker.

“Don’t cry. Watching you is tearing me apart. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he cries, reaching for my hand. “I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you sooner.”

I fall forward, letting my elbows rest on the bed as my hands tangle in my hair.

I can’t move.

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

When I finally feel like I can speak again, I don’t know what to say. What are you supposed to say to someone who just told you they’re dying? There aren’t any words that will make it better. I stare at his sad eyes as I play his words over and over in my head.

I stand up next to the bed again and lightly brush my trembling hand against his cheek. This time he leans into me instead of looking away. “They have treatments and medicines you can try, right?”

He swallows. “There’s nothing more they can do for me. I have leukemia and I’ve tried everything they’ve suggested, but nothing seems to work.”

“You can at least try, can’t you? Did you get a second opinion? There has to be something they can do.”

“I’ve tried everything, Kate. All they do is make me sick and prolong the inevitable. I went into the city yesterday to try a new drug and look what it did to me. I don’t want to live like this . . .”

“But what if one of those treatments could cure you? I need you, Asher,” I cry, placing my palms on the edge of his hospital bed to hold myself up.

“Do you think I want to leave you? I want to live the life I have left . . . with you. I don’t want to spend it here.” He rests his hand on top of mine and I look up to see tears streaming down his face.

“How long have you known?”

He glances to the window and then back to me. “Almost a year,” he says hesitantly.

If he said anything after that, I didn’t hear it. I thought I knew what pain was, but nothing has ever felt like this. This is excruciating, mind-numbing, heart-aching type of torture. It vibrates through my body, taking anger and confusion right along with it.

He’s known for almost a year, and I only met him a few months ago. He let me fall for him when he knew he was dying. He let me fall for him when he knew he wasn’t going to be my forever. Why would he do that? Why would he let me fall in love with him if he knew he would be leaving me soon?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I cry, placing my hand over my mouth.

“What did you want me to say? Hi, my name is Asher and I have cancer. I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me. Then I got to know you, and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I didn’t want to see you looking at me like you are right now,” he says, his voice trailing off to hide the emotion that seems to be bubbling up inside of him.

I’m so lost right now. I’m torn between yelling at him and comforting him. I hate this! Once again my world has been flipped upside down, and this time there’s nothing I can do to fix it.

I feel like I’m going to be sick. This is too much for me right now. It’s selfish for me to be thinking about myself, but I can’t help it. Asher knew, and he’d kept it from me. I run to the door and leave the room without saying a word. I can’t look back. I just can’t. I stop the first nurse I see by stepping toward her as she walks down the hall.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I ask, all but hyperventilating.

“Go to the end of the hall and take a right.”

I cover my mouth and try navigating the halls through my blurry eyes. “Are you okay?” I hear a nurse ask, but I keep moving until I’m shut inside the bathroom and the door is locked behind me. I crouch down in front of the toilet, emptying my stomach over and over again. Maybe this is just a bad dream that I’ll wake up from soon. I can’t lose him. I just can’t. I’m scared of what life will be like without him.

When I’m done, I scoot so that my back is against the wall and fold my knees into my chest. There’s an insistent squeeze compressing my heart. My head hurts so bad that it’s blinding me.

Cancer. Asher has cancer. I never wanted to hear anyone I love say that word. And Asher . . . he’s too young. He has so much left to accomplish, but he’s not going to get the chance. Maybe if I pray for a miracle one will come. Maybe if I close my eyes this will all be over.

It’s the worst type of nightmare.

The initial shock is starting to wear off, and I know Asher’s going to need me. He’s been there for me over and over again, helping me escape a lot of my fears. Cancer is a scary thing to face, but death . . . I can’t even imagine.

I wipe my eyes and stand up, bracing myself against the wall. I use a long piece of toilet paper to wipe around my eyes, and then rinse my mouth out with water from the faucet. When I look at my reflection in the mirror, all I see is the sad, lost girl I’ve suddenly become again. I thought I had my life all figured out until just a few minutes ago when the words Asher and dying were used in the same sentence. I spent the past few months building this tower out of blocks only to have cancer come and knock it down.

Why?

Why Asher?

I can’t believe this is happening. Not now. Not to him.

I blot around my mouth with a paper towel and pull the door open. I have no idea how long I was in there, and I feel like a zombie as I walk back to Asher’s room. Someone says something to me, but I ignore them. I just want to get back to him; feel his skin on my skin and his heart beating against my palm.

I place my hand on the door handle and take a few deep breaths before opening the door to Asher’s room. I’m trying hard not to cry, but when I open the door I can’t control it. He’s facing the window with tears glistening on the sides of his cheeks. I can’t get a hold of myself, not that I even want to try at this point. My anger has all been replaced with heartache, which is the most painful emotion to deal with.

I clasp his right hand between my hands and stare down at the guy who I thought would be my forever. Now I know that he might not even get a chance at forever, and that’s the biggest lump I’ve ever had to swallow.

He wipes his tears before looking up at me. He cringes as he takes in my red splotchy face. “Please don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“Is it okay if I touch you?” I ask, trying to see where all the tubes are connected. I don’t know why but I need to touch him, to make sure he still exists the way I remember him.

“Everything hurts, but you’re the only one who can make it better,” he says, moving to the side of the bed and patting the space beside him. “Don’t be scared. The only place I have anything is my arm.” He lifts it up, showing me the IV that’s inserted in the top of his hand.

I cautiously sit on the edge of the bed, lifting one leg at a time and moving back to rest my head next to his on the pillow. I’m reluctant to get too close, but there isn’t one thing on this planet that could keep me away from him right now.

“Why did they admit you today?” I ask. I didn’t think about it before, but he’s been sick for months. Why are they just putting him in the hospital now?

“I was dehydrated. They want me here for twenty-four hours of observation and to get some fluids back into my system. I have a mor**ine supply. How can I go wrong with that?” I lift my head and glare at him; I hate that he’s trying to make a joke out of it. There isn’t anything about this whole situation that makes me want to smile, let alone laugh.

“Does it hurt?” I ask, skimming my fingertips over his gown covered chest and stomach.

“It’s been hurting. It hurt way before I even knew I was sick,” he states. There’s an ache in my throat as I listen to him. He’s been dealing with this the whole time he was walking me through my problems. I must have seemed so selfish because I didn’t even notice that anything was wrong with him.

“I wish you would have told me sooner.”

He pulls me closer with his free arm and kisses the top of my head. “This is my punishment for letting Megan die. Some days, I feel like I deserve it.”

I snap my head up and look down at his somber eyes. “Listen to me,” I demand, holding his cheeks in my hands. “You didn’t let Megan die. She made a choice that night too, Asher, and you have to let it go.”