Author: Lisa De Jong

The smile falls from her beautiful face, leaving the sad expression I used to see so often when I first met her. “I never had one,” she whispers, freezing her fingers in place. “You’re my first.”

My chest aches hearing her admit that. She lost so much time because of one asshole, and I’d do just about anything to give those years back to her. I know I can’t, but at least I can give her hope for a future.

Placing my finger under her chin, I bring her green eyes back to mine. “I’m glad I got to be your first, but I want you to promise me that I won’t be your last.”

“Asher—”

“Don’t,” I say, placing my finger over her lips. “I don’t want you to argue with me over this one. I need to know that you’ll be all right. I need to know that you’re happy.”

“I can’t even think about that now. Don’t you get that? I love you so freaking much . . . I can’t see past you, Asher,” she says, closing her eyes. “I can’t.”

“You’re special, Kate. Someone is going to see it just like I do,” I say softly, running my thumb across her cheekbone. “I don’t want to leave until I know you can live without me. And when I say live, I mean smiling. I just want you to be happy.”

“Stop. Please, just stop,” she mumbles, covering her face with her hands.

Using the little bit of strength I have left, I pull her toward me and hold her close to my chest. I hate seeing her like this, knowing that I’ve caused it. No one should ever have to talk to their girlfriend about this shit. It hurts so f**king much, but I push through it because I know she needs my strength.

I don’t want her to feel guilty. I don’t want her to think her life ends after me. She did that once and lost so much because of it.

“I’m sorry. Not because of what I said, but because I had to say it,” I say, combing my fingers through her hair.

“Can we talk about something else? Please.”

I use the hand resting behind hers to pull her closer to me, feeling her warm breath mix with mine. “Loving you is easy, but it makes this so much harder.”

Her warm lips graze mine over and over again. “I love you.”

I hold her close to my chest, and I feel the weight of my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. I don’t want to close my eyes. I hate falling asleep because I’m missing so much of the time I have left with this girl, but control is something I have very little of now.

It’s preparing me for what’s to come.

I want her to be okay . . . it’s what I pray for every time I feel myself drifting. I pray to wake up and see her beautiful face one more time. I pray for a miracle, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I was already given one.

Kate.

Chapter 23

THE FIRST THING THAT CATCHES my eye as I pull down my street is Beau’s old beat-up Chevy. I haven’t spoken to him since I learned Asher’s sick. Not because I don’t want to but because I haven’t had time for anyone else.

Asher and I have been spending every moment together, but once in a while when he’s sleeping, I leave to run a few errands. I hate every minute of it the time we spend apart. I’m always afraid I’m going to miss one of the rare moments he’s awake, or that he’ll take a turn for the worse and I won’t be there for him.

As I stop in my driveway, I remember the relief I used to feel every time I saw Beau was home. I feel a little bit of it right now. I’m half expecting him to come out the front door like he used to but he doesn’t.

Those days are gone.

When I walk into my house, it’s overwhelmingly quiet. My mom’s spot at the kitchen table is empty, and the television is off.

I quickly throw a few items into my duffle bag, not paying any attention to whether they match. I take a couple minutes to leave my mom a note apologizing for all the dirty clothes I left in the laundry room and head back out the door.

The cold air hits my face as I run down my steps toward my car. With any luck, it’ll still be warmed up from the drive over here.

“Kate!” I hear a familiar voice yell from behind me.

I halt in place, hesitant to turn around and face him.

“Kate!” This time, I can tell he’s closer.

Taking a deep breath, I turn and look at the man I didn’t even know I missed so much until this moment. “Hey, what are you doing home?”

“Winter break,” he replies, running his fingers through his hair, “I was hoping I’d see you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t stick around. I have a lot going on right now,” I say, nervously adjusting the strap on my bag.

Beau closes the space between us and lifts the heavy bag from my shoulder, carefully sliding it down my arm and placing it over his own shoulder. “I know. Your mom told me about Asher. I . . . don’t know what to say. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I answer, shaking my head.

He nods, glancing toward the street then back to me. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot,” I say, folding my arms across my body to keep warm. “How long are you home for?”

“Until next Sunday. Look, if you have time, we could get a pizza or something before I go back. Just to catch up.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to. I don’t like to leave him,” I answer, digging my shoes into the light dusting of snow on the ground.

“Do you want me to put this in your car?” he asks, lifting the strap of my bag up from his shoulder. “I have something in my house for you. I’ll just give it to you now.”

Before I even have time to reply, he opens the back door of my car and throws the bag in then opens the driver’s door and starts the engine.

“Wait in the car. It’s too cold for you to be standing out here,” he says as he climbs out and holds the door open for me.

I slide into the seat. I don’t have the energy or the time to argue with him. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I didn’t—”

He shuts my door and quickly disappears into his house. I feel horrible because I didn’t buy him a present. I haven’t had time to think of anyone but Asher.

I lean forward and grip my steering wheel tight as I watch him step outside with a small rectangular box in his hand. Things aren’t as easy between us as they used to be.

He opens the passenger side door and climbs in. “Here. Open it.”

I hesitantly grab the package from his hand and run my fingers over the red ribbon before untying it. I rip the paper, revealing a white box. I carefully lift the lid and peel back the thin foam that covers the top.

What it reveals takes my breath away.

“Do you like it?”

I run my fingers along the smooth wood corners and feel tears building in my eyes. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

“I’ve had it for a while. I have one I keep in my room to remind me of home and I thought you might like it too. You know, to remind you of better days,” he says quietly, never taking his eyes off the picture, “It’s our spot.”

It’s a picture of the lake, taken from the spot on the beach where we usually sit and stare out onto the water.

“Thank you,” I whisper, trying to hold back my tears.

“Now you can go there whenever you need to,” he says, brushing his thumb under my eye, “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I feel bad that I didn’t get you anything.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’ve been busy.”

The way he’s looking at me right now makes me want to wrap my arms around him, but I need to go . . . Asher needs me. “I should probably go in case Asher wakes up.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, he turns his head to stare out the window. “Well, call me if you need me,” he says, turning back to me, “I miss you, Kate.”

I nod, unable to speak as I watch him get out of the car and walk away.

I wish I could take Asher’s place . . . I think it would be easier to die than to live without him. He means so much to me . . . he is the architect of the person I’ve become these last few months. I don’t want to live this life without him. I don’t want to spend a single night without him.

I was living in this horrible nightmare, and he gave me reason to dream again. How am I going to dream when he’s gone?

Why does God always have to take the best? That’s certainly what he’s taking from me.

He‘s taking the best thing that has ever happened to me.

“Do you need any more pain medicine?” I ask, holding his hand in mine. He’s had a mor**ine IV for the last couple of weeks. He’s so weak that he’s been confined to the bed. There are no more fishing trips. No more trips to the diner.

He nods, closing his eyes again. He’s so thin and pale, but what’s dimmed the most is the light behind his smile. I miss it.

It’s been four weeks since we last made love . . . on the night we planned the future we will never have together. Every day, his spirit fades a little more, right along with his strength. Each day he sleeps a little more than the day before.

Today, he’s been asleep all day.

I lie next to him and watch the life being drained from his body. A little bit of his soul is slipping away with it. He’s fading away from me, and soon I won’t be able to touch him with my hands, or feel his warm skin against mine. I want to savor him. Forever.

“Come lay up here with me,” he mumbles, I listen to every word he says because I know the day he says his last words is going to be a knife to my heart.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” I ask, hesitantly. I don’t want to hurt him any more than he already hurts.

“You’re the only thing that makes me feel alive. Now get up here,” he demands, never opening his eyes once.

“Fine, but remember you asked,” I reply, kicking my slippers off. I crawl under the warm comforter and snuggle up to his side. His body is always ice cold now, but I have no problem warming him up.