Love Always, Kate (5 page)

I peered
up into his beautiful eyes. I couldn’t form words to tell him how wonderful I thought he was. How much I appreciated him thinking about me this way. I loved his idea.

I nodded.

Damian grinned, reached down, and slipped my black-knit hat off my head. After running his fingers through my hair a few times, he wiped a tear from my cheek.

Tingles shot up my spine, and I shivered at the touch.

He motioned for me to sit. I moved the IV pole behind the toilet and sat facing the tub. I felt Damian comb through the strands. He cut the hair, and I watched my auburn locks fall to the floor. Then he picked up a chunk and handed it to me.

“Here, do you want to keep some of it?
”

I took it
, purposefully touching his fingers. “Thanks.”

I heard the clippers come to life and felt the metal against my head
. My eyes closed, and I listened to the buzz as Damian shaved each individual hair from the top of my head. After a few swipes, he rubbed his hand over the bare skin. He repeated this gesture until all of my hair laid lifeless on the floor.

I
spun around and peered into the mirror. Damian was putting the clippers back into his bag. I swept my hand across the top of my head. The reflection looked normal to me.

I glanced up at Damian. He had a glob of white lotion in his hand, and began to rub his hands together.

He grinned. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring lotion or aftershave.”

I laughed
, thankful he chose lotion, and wondered if he’d really considered aftershave. His hands moved gracefully over my head. I cringed from the cold at first, but his warm hands caressing my head soon relaxed me, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the sensation. He rubbed the lotion in for a few minutes. His fingers moved down behind my ears, to my shoulders, and down my arms. His lips pressed against the top of my head. I swallowed. A wave of emotions washed through me. My hands were settled in my lap and his came to rest on top of mine. I didn’t know whether to move or not. Should I flip my hands over and take hold of his?

When I opened my eyes, he was kneeling in front of me, gazing at me. “You look beautiful.”

My eyes searched his. If it weren’t for the butterflies flying around my stomach telling me otherwise, I would have wondered if he was being a jerk.

He reached up and caressed the side of my face. With a gentle tug on my hand, he lowered me down. I slid off the unromantic porcelain throne and sat on my knees on the floor. Damian placed both hands on either side of my face, his eyes locking with mine. He leaned in closer.

Were my lips dry? Were they supposed to be? What if I sucked at it? I hadn’t brushed my teeth since that morning, and…

Before I had a chance to finish my thought, Damian’s lips were pressed against mine. I closed my eyes, ‘cause that’s what happened on TV, and let my shoulders fall. More questions ran through my mind, the old ones forgotten. Was I supposed to breathe or hold my breath? What should I do with my hands? Should my lips stay closed or open?
Please, oh, please don’t throw up!

I kept my hands on my lap for a moment, but as Damian’s mouth opened and sucked my lower lip between his, my arms wrapped around his neck on their own. He responded by moving his hands to my shoulders and sliding them down my arms. His lips moved over mine tenderly, then he folded his arms around my waist and hugged me against him.

When the kiss ended, I stared at him. Small shivers still raced down my spine, and my whole body tingled. Damian smiled. He kissed the tip of my nose, and his fingertips trailed over the side of my neck. My insecurity dissipated at the expression on his face
.

“
I saw the way he looks at you.”

Now I could see it
, too. It was the sparkle in his eyes. The way the corner of his mouth curved up in an impish grin. He leaned in and kissed my neck where his fingers had been.

“You taste good,” he whispered in my ear.

It could have been the chemo dancing its way through my bloodstream because I was suddenly light-headed. Then again chemo didn’t typically make me feel good.

Damian kissed me on the neck again, and I had never felt the little pin-pricks that covered my body before. I ached to have him kiss me again. I wanted him to envelop me in his arms and draw me into his body and keep
me there forever.

“
Damian isn’t as strong as you are. If he falls for you, and you don’t recover, it’ll kill him.”

I couldn’t speak for Damian. And whether or not it was
a good idea didn’t matter. I knew the moment he pulled out the clippers and looked into my eyes that I was in danger of falling for Damian Lowell.

Chapter
5

November 18

Dear Diary,

He kissed me! A real kiss. One that left me breathless.

I can’t get Damian’s touch out of my mind. I can still feel where his fingers treaded over my skin, where his lips pressed against me. I’d give anything to have them there again. I’ve been lying in bed for the last three hours, staring at my ceiling and picturing Damian’s Caribbean blue eyes. I don’t want to get him out of my head, but I
would
like to fall asleep.

It felt so good to have him want me like that. I felt…normal.

I wish I didn’t feel like this, though. We’re different in so many ways. I hate that I love being swept up in him. I hate how much I want to be with him. I’m opening myself up to get hurt.

He’s not good for me, I know that. But I also can’t stay away from him. Maybe if I wasn’t sick, then…

On the flip side, he’s giving me another reason to fight this as hard as I can. Is that what I want, though? Someone else to disappoint?

My parents are counting on me, too. I don’t want to let them down.

~*
~

This time I really did forget my gloves at the hospital. Technically, I had another pair that I
could
wear, but retrieving my favorite ones gave me a great excuse to see Damian again. I didn’t think I could wait until Monday, anyway. His face filled my dreams, and I woke up once in the middle of the night kissing my pillow…okay, twice…

I half-ran inside and took the elevator to the third floor, a giant
smile plastered across my face. Would he be happy to see me? Would he kiss me again? Probably not in front of everyone. Maybe he’d walk me back to my car and kiss me there? It didn’t matter; I just wanted to see him again. I hoped he wouldn’t be too weirded out, it not being a treatment day and all.

The elevator ride to the third floor took forever. When the metal doors finally opened, I got out and walked to the nurses’ station.

No one was there. I checked the chemo room, hoping to find Leslie. It was empty, too. I walked the length of the hall and found no one. All of the doors to the rooms were closed; they were usually open with the sounds of televisions and family members wafting into the hallway.

I opened the door to the Commons. Two young boys were playing
Mario Kart
on the Wii, and a little girl, receiving her chemo treatment, was sitting on the sofa reading a book. She wore a pink infant headband on her bald head.

She looked up. “Hi.”

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Leslie just told me to stay in here. She
said she’d be back in a little while.”

“Oh. When was that?”

“I don’t know, ten minutes ago? Dr. Lowell is in his office yelling at his son, though, so all the nurses are probably listening in. You know how they are.”

My heart sank. “Thanks,” I murmured.

I twirled around and rushed down the corridor to Dr. Lowell’s office. As I rounded the corner, I saw Leslie, Tammy, and two other nurses attempting to look busy in the same spot. Leslie noticed me first and shook her head. I glanced away and stared at the cracked-open office door.

“What the hell do you care? You’re never around
, anyway.” Damian’s voice boomed down the hall.

“I’m doing the best I can. You’re not making this any easier. At least
I’m
trying,” Dr. Lowell yelled back, though not as loudly.

“You call working sixteen hours a day
trying
? Bullshit, Dad.”

“I asked you to be here with me.”

“No. You want me here to fucking baby-sit me.”

“What else am I supposed to do, Damian? You got yourself kicked out school, I’ve bailed you out of jail twice, you show up here drunk, and now you’re skipping your therapy sessions. I can’t trust you.”

“I’m such a goddamn disappointment to you, aren’t I? If only Liam were here instead.”

Thick silence filtered down the corridor.

“I didn’t say that.” Dr. Lowell’s voice was quiet.

Damian jerked the door open. All of the nurses twirled their heads in different directions. My eyes stayed transfixed on Damian.

“No, Dad, you don’t have to say it. You make it perfectly clear.”

Damian spun on his heel and slammed the office door closed. He started walking down the hall—no way he wouldn’t see me. He paused slightly, his eyes set on mine. His expression was hard and unreadable.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he pushed forward, swept past me, and swore under his breath. Leslie came up behind me as I watched him disappear down the hall.

“What happened?” I asked
, still staring at Damian’s wake.

Leslie shook her head. “It’s not the first time. Before you, Damian showed up drunk every other day or so.”

“That’s what this was about?” I faced her.

She sighed. “It was about a lot of things.”

“Thanks, Leslie,” I said and started jogging after him, I’m not sure why. It wasn’t as if I could do anything about the situation.

The look in his eye as he’d passed me in the hallway scared me. The voice that had spoken so softly to me
turned cruel and edgy as he yelled at his father. I’d never dream of speaking to my parents that way.

I checked the cafeteria first. He wasn’t there. I wandered around the first floor, poking my head into each of the waiting rooms. It was a large hospital, crowded with visitors and full of patients. Damian reeked of alcohol and probably wanted some place where he could be alone. I knew the third floor well, but the rest of the place was like a rat maze. After an hour of searching,
I gave up. He obviously didn’t want to be found.

I slipped
on my hat and walked out into the cold November afternoon. It had begun to flurry, and the wind stung my cheeks. I shoved my bare hands into my coat pockets and stared down at my feet as I walked to my car.

It was a long trek to the back of the parking lot, the only place I could find a spot. My mind wandered, thinking about the Damian I saw today, drunk and screaming. I touched my lips and remembered the warmth of his kiss. The guy who had taken so much care cutting my hair, kissing my bare head, caressing me, couldn’t be the same one I saw today.

“Hey.”

I jerked my head up. Damian stood leaning against my car, smoking. He looked different, not wearing scrubs. His black Columbia coat and faded blue jeans fit him much better than his hospital get-up. I swallowed as I made eye contact. Did he look sad or were his pupils that dilated?

“I was looking for you,” I said. “In there.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere near here.” He stared off in the direction of the hospital and threw his cigarette on the ground.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“Wanna take me home? Doc confiscated my keys.” He had trouble pronouncing the last words.

I nodded. “Sure.”

I unlocked my yellow Bug’s doors. Damian opened the passenger door as I slid behind the wheel. He stumbled only slightly
getting into the car, but fumbled with the seatbelt.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

He gave up and I grabbed it and clicked it for him. He glared at me.

“I don’t need a ticket,” I
said quietly.

“We wouldn’t want Miss Perfect to have
that
on her record, now would we?” he grumbled under his breath.

I shifted my attention to the snowflakes circling around us
. I didn’t know what to say, so we sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the car warm up.

“You’ll have to tell me where to go.”

Damian didn’t say anything. He just stared out the window. I could hear him breathing. Taking my hands off the wheel, I sat back in my seat. I didn’t want to push him, so I waited. Eventually, he sighed and turned to me.

“Uh, I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

“I forgot my gloves.”

So
lame
.

Damian reached down and unzipped his bag. There was a half-
grin on his face as he pulled out my favorite pair of gloves. “I was going to give them to you on Monday.”

If the smell of alcohol hadn’t been burning my nostrils, I would’ve found the gesture charming. I took the gloves from him, touching his hand. “Thanks.”

He bowed his head, refusing to look up when he spoke. “Hey, I’m sorry. Like I said, you weren’t supposed to be here today.”

“Damian, I don’t even know what happened.” I reached and placed my hand over his. He started to withdraw it but stopped. His eyes met mine.

“My dad and I haven’t gotten along in a long time. Sometimes it just…” he paused and rubbed his forehead. “My mom and my brother died. They went out to get a birthday cake for The Good Doctor, and they never came home.”

How drunk was he? Would he remember opening up to me tomorrow?

The idea spurred some bravery within me, and I squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It hasn’t been easy.”

“And the alcohol?”

Damian squinted at the floor and scoffed. He shifted in his seat before meeting my eye again.

“I get it.”

“Get what?” he snapped.

“Losing everything in an instant. Wanting to run away from the emptiness inside.”

Damian didn’t say anything for a while. He stared at our entwined fingers. “I live on Lincoln Place Drive. I’ll show you.”

We drove in silence, except for Damian giving me directions. I turned into the long driveway to a huge three-story brick house. I gaped at the size of it. It was beautiful, with white trimmed windows and evergreen shutters.

I drove up to the first garage door and shifted into park. Damian grabbed his bag and reached for the handle. The door swung open, and he swiveled. “You coming?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” The invitation caught me off guard. I guess I’d assumed he’d rather be alone.

The foyer was bigger than my bedroom. My mouth dropped. No way could my parents ever afford even a fraction of the place. Damian must hav
e noticed my awe as he was halfway down the hallway before coming back for me.

“It’s just a stupid house. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and yanked me into the massive kitchen. My eyes bugged out. It was Martha Stewart’s dream kitchen
, aka my mother’s dream kitchen. Stainless steel appliances accented the black marble countertops and cream-colored cabinetry.

The grip he had on my wrist almost hurt. I tried to tear away, but he held on even tighter. “Damian, let go. You’re hurting me!”

He dragged me over to one of the stools under the breakfast counter. I rubbed my wrist when he let go and plopped down on one of the stools. Glancing over, I saw Damian rummaging through the refrigerator. He yanked out two bottles of beer and started walking over to me.

“Oh no,” I
said, sliding down. I swiped them before Damian had a chance to protest. “I’ll make you coffee.”

Damian’s eyes shot daggers into me. I ignored him and put the alcohol back in the colossal refrigerator. The Keurig sat at the opposite side of the kitchen. I took a gander and opened the cabinet above the machine.
Bingo: K-cups.

I faced him. “What do you want?”

He narrowed his eyes. “A beer.”

I spun on my heel, rolling my eyes. “You’re getting coffee. What kind?” The sternness of my voice surprised me.

“I don’t care,” he mumbled, slouching lower in the chair.

I grabbed a random
cup and stuck it in the machine. “Coffee mugs?”

Damian scowled and pointed one cabinet over. He lowered his head to rest on his arms. I took two mugs, filling mine with hot chocolate and his with coffee. When both cups were full, I sat Damian’s in front of him. He glared at it, glanced at me and took a sip.

We drank our beverages in silence. Every so often, Damian would eye the refrigerator, probably wishing he hadn’t invited me in so he could be drinking his way to oblivion by now. He finished his coffee first and watched as I took a slow drink. When I put the mug back down on the counter, he reached for my hand.

“Come on,” he drawled.

“Where?” I considered pulling away, but didn’t.

“Upstairs.” He stood up and tripped over the leg of the stool. I tried to let go of his hand, but he held on too tight. With a grunt, I toppled to the floor and landed on top of him. He started laughing.

“Couldn’t wait, huh?” He licked his lips seductively and slapped my butt. “The floor might be a little cold, but I’m game.”

Ugh…

He was drunk; I ignored him. He pushed my head down to kiss me. I ducked out from under his grip. Sure, I wanted him to kiss me, but I wanted him to remember it.