Send Me a Sign(39)

Ryan flinched. “Russo knows? That’s why he’s been your shadow all year. I thought he wanted you.”

“We’re just friends.” Right now, with Ryan’s arm around me, I was honestly okay with that. “He lives next door and my mom works with his dad, there was no way to keep—”

“I’m glad you had someone.” He tightened his grip. “It could’ve been me, though. God! And all I’ve done is talk about sex—you should’ve told me to go to hell.”

“I think I did, once or twice.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “You didn’t know. You were acting like any guy would.”

I’d forgiven him, but Ryan wasn’t ready to forgive himself. “Would ‘any guy’ have run away like an * when you told him? Is that what Gyver did when he found out? No wonder you said no to me.”

I pulled away so I was facing him. “That’s not why! You don’t date—how many times did you tell me that last spring? If you hadn’t heard about Hil’s pact …”

“Okay, so Hil’s stupid pact put the idea in my head—so what? I couldn’t stop thinking about it—us. I don’t want ‘a girlfriend.’ I want you.”

Could Ryan handle this? Earlier with Gyver, had that meant anything? Did I want it to? Of course I did, but he didn’t. And I wanted Ryan too. It was a knife’s edge and I wasn’t balanced. It was also ridiculous—how had we gotten from leukemia to crushes?

But crushes are normal and it felt good to worry about something normal. I wasn’t thinking like a cancer patient, but just like me: I wanted this. I wanted Ryan.

But I was a cancer patient and I couldn’t pretend this decision was as simple as what I wanted. Or what he thought he wanted. “You don’t know what you’d be getting into.”

Ryan reached across the bed, threaded his fingers through mine and let our hands rest on my knee. “So tell me.”

Like it was that easy. “Ryan, no. My answer’s no.”

He looked crestfallen—for half a second. “You still don’t think I’m serious.”

“That’s part of it.”

He leaned toward me, dimples flashing in a smile that made my heart skip. “Let me prove you wrong. Fine, say no for now, but give me a chance.”

I stood and stepped away from his touch. “I really don’t think we’ll work—not as more than a casual hookup.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Or maybe we’d be great together.”

“I said no, Ryan.” My voice was more stern than I’d intended, but the sternness was self-directed. I was not going to give in to charm and confidence and dimples. No matter how much my lips wanted me to.

Maybe Ryan would’ve accepted my answer and left. Maybe he would’ve argued. Maybe kissed me. I don’t know because Mom knocked. That was a sign—with Gyver I’d been interrupted before I did anything I’d regret. With Ryan, all distractions waited until after I’d decided.

Mom knocked again, then entered. “Hi, Ryan, it’s good to see you. How are you feeling, kitten? Dad said you slept all day. You look—” She paused, noticing my splotchy face and disheveled hair. “A little flushed. Everything okay?”

“I told Ryan, Mom.”

With a smile locked in place, she said, “Told him what?”

“About the leukemia.” I recognized the warning signs in her posture; Mom was tensing for a tantrum. But she wouldn’t do it in front of Ryan, so I met her eyes.

Her smile didn’t waver. “Dinner’s ready and we’d love to have you join us, Ryan. Why don’t you go downstairs and call your mother? We’ll be down in a minute.”

He shot me a confused glance, but nodded. “Thanks. It smells great.”

She waited until he’d left before whirling toward me. “Mia Ruth, what were you thinking? After we worked so hard for your privacy.”

“I had to tell him.”

“Why? I thought secrecy was what you wanted.”

“But why is it a secret?” It had made sense at one point, now I wasn’t sure.

“It’s what you wanted: no one to know so they would treat you the same.” Her voice was stern and I felt ashamed, like I’d done something wrong.

“I know. But I had to tell him. He asked me out. I had to explain.”

“You and Ryan Winters?” The tension ebbed from her face and grasp. “That’s great, kitten!”

“I said no.”

“But why? It’s Ryan, honey. You used to glow when he’d drop you off after a party, and you’d blush and run to your room if he called.”

“That was last year.”

“So? As you’ve gotten to know him better, you like him less?”

“No.” I sighed. She’d never understand how I could turn him down. In her mind he was perfect—we were perfect together. “It just won’t work.”

“Because you won’t give it a chance! This is exactly what you need right now: a distraction and someone who makes you happy.”

This type of debate could go on all night, or at least until I gave in. I couldn’t concede, but perhaps if I offered her a partial victory. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”