The Ending I Want(98)

But she’s not waking up. She’s not responding at all.

“Why isn’t she waking up?” My voice is panicked.

I’m scared. I’ve never been so afraid in all my life.

And helpless, so very f*cking helpless.

“I don’t know.” Eddie slowly shakes his head.

“You don’t know?” I yell. “You’re a f*cking doctor! You’re supposed to know! You’re supposed to help her!”

Knocking his hand from her face, I cup her cheek and turn her face to mine. “Come on, Taylor. Please open your eyes for me, baby. Please.”

I’ll beg, do whatever is necessary to get her to look at me again.

Please, Boston, please wake up.

I need you to be okay.

But she’s not responding, and I have never felt fear like this before in my life.

Unadulterated fear.

“Has she been ill at all recently?” Eddie asks me.

“No—well, yes. I mean, she gets these headaches from time to time.”

“What kind of headaches?”

“I don’t know! Headaches!” My fear is coming out as anger, and it’s directed at Eddie.

“Do the headaches last for long?” Eddie continues, my anger just brushing over him.

“No.” I shake my head, frustrated. “Well, yes. I mean, they come out of nowhere. She’s fine one minute, and then bam. They knock her off her feet—literally. One time, she vomited from the pain. But she takes these pills that her doctor gave her, and she’s fine a few minutes later.” I look him in the eyes. “That’s what I thought was happening just before she collapsed. She was clutching her head, like she always does when a headache is coming on.”

“Liam”—he slowly says my name. There’s caution in his voice, and it scares the shit out of me—“you say her doctor prescribes her these pills?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of pills are they?”

“I don’t know.” I grit my jaw, frustrated. And she doesn’t have her handbag with her so it’s not like I can check.

I look back down at her, rubbing my hand over her cheek, patting it.

Please, Taylor, please wake up.

“The headaches—has Taylor ever told you what causes them?” Eddie asks me, that f*cking caution back in his voice.

“She had a brain tumor when she was sixteen,” I say, staring down at her. “She said the headaches are a lingering result of that.” But, as I say those words, as I hear them out loud, coming from my own mouth, it’s like I’m slowly slipping underwater.

The headaches.

Her list.

Things to Do Before I Die.

Fuck…no.

I meet Eddie’s eyes, and I see it written there. He thinks…

Jesus, Taylor.

No.

“No,” I say, my eyes filling with tears. I pull her closer to me, holding her close. “It’s not that. It’s not—no.” I firmly shake my head. “If the tumor were back, I would have known. She would have told me.”

Wouldn’t she?

“You’re probably right.” He doesn’t mean that. I can hear it in his voice. The dip in his tone. The way he flickers a glance at Cam. The concern in his eyes when he looks back down at Taylor.

My Taylor.

I hear the scream of an ambulance siren approaching in the distance.

“She’s going to be okay,” Cam says to me. His hand touches my shoulder and squeezes.

I stare blankly at him. Then, I take my eyes back down to Taylor’s beautiful face.

She looks like she’s sleeping.

Pain lances through me. I shut my eyes against the onslaught of emotions.

My mind is running wild with everything she has ever said to me.

“Babe, you’re rubbing cream onto my arse and singing Bieber’s ‘Sorry.’ Really not sure how to feel about that.”

“Maybe I am sorry.”

Sorry. What was she sorry for? The tattoo—back then, I thought that was what it was. But, now, I’m not so sure.

“I’m sorry. I…I can’t stay with you.”

“Two weeks. Two weeks, and that was supposed to be it.”

“You weren’t supposed to fall in love.”

“Don’t talk about you dying so flippantly. Someone like you is meant to live forever.”

She wrote a list.

A list of things to do before she dies.

Jesus. No.

Why didn’t you tell me, Taylor? Why?

She’s sick. She’s dy—

The thought is like a hole being punched through my chest.

No, I can’t—I won’t accept this.

I won’t lose her. Not my Boston.

Why didn’t I see it before now? I should’ve paid more attention.

I hate myself in this moment. Really and truly hate myself.

The pain I’m feeling is like nothing I have ever felt before. It’s unbearable.

Heartbreakingly f*cking unbearable.

I can’t lose Taylor. I won’t survive it if I do.

Then, the paramedics are here, and they’re taking her from my arms, laying her flat on the floor. One is checking her over. The other is asking me questions, but I can’t speak. Eddie takes over, answering the questions.