The bus ride back home was gloomy. Right after Chris left, I told them I was leaving too. Cassie didn't say anything. I knew she couldn't tell me what was going on because of her stupid principles, but I felt betrayed. I felt like she was keeping things from me. All of them. Especially Chris.

What is going on? Why didn't he tell me?

How could he make love to me and then leave like that?

I had a right to know, though. I loved him and I wanted to be there for him. And if this last day was any sort of indicator, he needed me too. He'd proved it to me. When he kissed me, when he touched me, when he loved me. He had to. I wasn't imagining things. I'd seen it in his eyes.

Mom wasn't home when I came back. Dad told me she had an urgent call from the hospital. I wanted to go to Chris' house, but I wasn't sure he was there. I called him several times, but I was sent to voice mail.

Riley wanted to play UNO with me but she gave up because I just couldn't concentrate. My mind was brimming with different theories to what was happening.

The craziest one was that maybe Caitlin was pregnant. My stomach sank. No. She couldn't be, could she? I mean, she was drinking beer the other night. Pregnant women never drink alcohol, right? Please God, don't let her be pregnant. Please.

It was awful. I was a complete mess.

Mom didn't come home that night. She texted Dad telling him that she had to spend the night. It wasn't that unusual, though. From time to time, if the hospital was short on staff, they would ask her to stay. It didn't happen often, but it did happen.

I couldn't sleep. I tossed around my bed all night, waiting for a text, a call, something from Chris. Cassie had called but I ignored it. First, because it might prevent the phone from getting any kind of signal from Chris and second, because I was pissed. She was holding out to me. It hurt.

When it was time to get up, I dragged myself out of bed, carrying my phone everywhere. Just in case. I would have beaten myself over the fact that he'd called and I didn't have the phone near me. Although, it seemed useless. I called him one more time, but I was sent to voice mail again. Frustration welled in me.

Where the hell is he?

Both my sisters were already inside the car, and I was about to climb inside, when Mom stepped out from the cab that had parked in front of the house. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her whole face was contorted in a painful expression. "Mom?" I stepped to her side as she finished paying the ride.

Her blue eyes turned to me. The hue seemed lighter because they were rimmed with red. "Have you talked to Chris?" she asked leaning on to me. She was completely drained.

My breath caught in my chest. "No," I mumbled, feeling a knot forming down my throat, my chest constricting.

She closed her eyes. "It's Luke." She shook her head, "he's got kidney cancer. He hadn't told us because he didn't want people to know." Her eyes teared up, "but he's in a bad shape." Her voice broke, "really bad shape." She hugged me, crying softly over her friend.

My stomach sank while my eyes brimmed with tears too. Chris knew. It made sense now, how pained and lonely he seemed at times.

He'd been carrying all of it on his own, for who knows how long. Luke was his only family. I couldn't imagine how broken he must feel right now.

My heart soared for him. I wanted to be there for him. I needed him to know that he could count on me.

"Take your sisters to school," Mom pulled away rubbing her eyes with the back of her palm, "Before you go the hospital, okay? I'm going to call your Dad and let him know." She sniffled, stepping away through the small concrete path that let towards our house.

A tear rolled down my cheek as I made my way to the van. I didn't know what to say to my sisters, so I just told them that Luke was in the hospital and that as soon as I knew something else, I'd fill them in.

Luke was a dear friend to the family, we all loved him. He was always amiable and caring. I'd always felt an inexplicable awe at him. He'd taken care of Chris since he was very little, and even though Chris was sort of a rebel in high school, he'd always aced his classes and was responsible in a way his father felt content.

Luke never cared much about the street fighting or the motorcycle because he knew he could trust his son. Chris was a good boy, underneath that bad-ass image he loved to flaunt. They had a great relationship built on trust, respect and love.

For the first time since I came back from California, I drove through the speed limit. I wanted to see him. I wanted to hug him, to let him know that he wasn't alone. Forty minutes later, I parked in front of Boston's Memorial Hospital.

What could you say in this case? I'm sorry sounded lame and shallow; even though I was sorry that Luke was sick, that Chris was hurting.

Then again, the cold way he'd gazed at me before leaving from New York, made me feel on edge. I had no idea what to say or what to do. Nothing was going to make him better. Nothing. I just hoped that the fact that I was here, would mean something.

With a heavy heart, I made my way through the hallways, after checking in with the nurses. Most of them knew me as Sue's daughter, so they were really nice and let me through. When I reached his room, a shaky breath left my lips. Mustering all the courage I had, I knocked on the door. There was no sound from the other side. Warily, I opened it and peeked my head through the crack. "Luke?" I added in a low tone, "Chris?"

Someone coughed inside. Biting my lip, I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Sun light seeped through the window in front of me. A small blue couch was placed right next to it, but it was empty. There was another chair placed next to the bedtime table. A couple of water bottles were on top with a half-filled glass.

My eyes moved slowly to the bed, dreading the moment I laid eyes on Luke. Chris was nowhere in sight, but his father's eyes softened when they locked with mine. His face seemed aged, his skin had a yellowish tint and his eyes were sunken. He forced a small smile and gestured me to get closer to him. My chest tightened as I swallowed hard, trying not to tear up. "Hi," I murmured, leaning closer to kiss him on the forehead. His skin was cold and dry. My heart broke at his state.

How could Chris keep this to himself? I don't think I could be able to, pretending that nothing was happening, if my father was sick as Luke. He'd masked his ache and kept on, day by day, trying to act like everything was fine. His pain runs deep; I knew that much.

Chris had put up this bravado, this mask, so nobody knew how hard it was to go through this. He'd closed on everyone, including himself.

Luke's left hand was bony as he patted the side of the bed. I blinked the tears away, stepping closer to him. I pressed my lips together trying to contain the sob that wanted to burst out as I reached him.

"I'm sorry," his voice was barely a whisper, but I heard him.

Why was he sorry for? For keeping us all out of the loop? For trying to fight something that was completely out of his hands by himself? For putting so much pressure on his son?

A tear rolled down my cheek as I tilted my head. "I'm sorry, too." My voice broke and I choked down a sob. I meant it. I was sorry to see him going through this, for trying to keep it altogether, when it was obvious it was out of his hands.

I understood how frustrated Chris must feel seeing his father like this. Luke's eyes teared up and I couldn't hold the tears back as I hugged him carefully, crying silently with him.

Not a minute later, the door opened and closed with a loud thump. Someone cursed. "Sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to disturb you," a deep voice added as Chris stepped through the room, holding a paper cup, steam swirling out of it. I pulled away from Luke, rubbing my eyes, when Chris's green eyes locked with mine. "What are you doing here?" he asked with a rough voice.

Beside me, Luke coughed. My pulse started to race as I glanced at him, reaching out to the table and holding the glass in my hand. He was still coughing and was starting to wheeze, when Chris stepped closer to the bed. Gently, I pressed the glass to Luke's lips as he finished barking. He swallowed a sip of water before glaring at his son. "Chris," he admonished, his voice too raspy. 

I settled the glass back on the bedtime table, while Chris' green eyes blazed with fieriness. I also noticed that his hands were clenched in tight fists at his side. My chest constricted as a feeling of despair washed over me. I couldn't understand what I'd done to make him act out like this.

Glancing back at Luke, I swallowed hard. "I should go," I stuttered trying to conceal the sorrow out of my voice. He nodded, before another fist of cough hit him again.

"Should I call I the nurse?" I asked Chris in a soft tone, biting my lip. His jaw was set before nodding and tending to his father.

Right.

With a heavy heart, I walked to the nurse's station. I told an old lady what was going on, and she immediately took off towards Luke's room. I followed her with my eyes, until she disappeared inside.

My heart ached, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I stared at the hallway, completely frozen for a moment.

What on earth has just happened?

My stomach churned uneasily as I recalled Chris' eyes blazing at me. Had I imagined it all? It had been less than two days that he was steering me through the Empire State, kissing me under the violent breeze, holding me close and making me feel whole.

Freaking hell.

He was angry. I could understand that. It was him against the world. Only, that he wasn't alone. He had Nathan and Cassie.

He had me.

He fucking had me.

I loved him. I would be there for him. He had to let me in, though. I couldn't try to force anything. Especially now.

Blinking hard the tears that were pooling in my eyes, I padded through the hospital with my heart on my sleeve. Trying not to crumble and giving him the space he clearly needed. I understood perfectly why he'd felt enraged, it wasn't fair that he was angry at me, though.

Unlocking the car, I was pulling open the door, when I heard forceful strides coming my way. My chest tightened when I saw Chris approaching. His stare was heated and his hands were clenched in fists.

"Why did you come?" he stopped in front of me.

I stared at him. Are you seriously asking me this?

"Because I want to be here for you." My brows furrowed. I took a step closer and reached out for him when he raised a palm, stopping me. He didn't want to have me close. The gesture felt like a low blow to my stomach. It was as if he'd built a wall around him, something to keep him standing despite the fact that he was breaking inside. "Chris, I know you're hurting, your dad is—"

"I don't need your fucking pity, Farah," he muttered though clenched teeth.

Completely stunned at him, my arm fell to the side. "I'm not pitying you Chris. I care for you."

He snorted, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "You do? Just like you cared for me a year ago?" My breath caught in my chest. "You want to be here for me? For how long? Until next week? Until the next time you decide that you don't want to have me around?" My eyes brimmed with tears at his words, my heart breaking in pieces. "I have news for you," he took a step closer, almost towering over me. "I don't do dates, Farah. I just fuck girls. What happened the other night, was just a one-night thing. It won't happen again." I swallowed hard, my chest so tight that it physically pained me. "I had a girlfriend, but she showed me that relationships don't work." He gazed at me with blazing eyes. "You broke up with me. You did this. You. Not me. Now you can go back to California and keep on with your amazing life." His lips set on a straight line. "Just like you always do," his tone was bitter as he threw me a glare filled with hatred.

Tears burned in the back of my throat as I glared back at him. "You're not being fair. You're angry," I poked him on the chest, "but you can't dump your shit on me."

He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "You're damn right. I'm furious. My father is dying." His voice quavered. "The greatest man walking next to me is sick and there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. And you know what? He doesn't deserve this. If there's anyone I could trade for him, it would be you."

My stomach plummeted to the ground. "You don't mean that." You can't mean that.

"I don't care about you. You were just a good fuck. That's it. Get over it." He took a step back. His eyes were cold as they ran through me.

I stared at him until he began to blur from the tears that were clouding my vision. My jaw quivered as the sob I was trying to control burst out. I clasped a hand over my lips, but tears started to roll down my cheeks.

Shaking his head, he pulled away. "Fuck this," he muttered under his breath before walking away, stepping on my broken heart with each forceful stride.

Thank you for reading me!