“Hey.”
“Hey.” I kiss him again.
“You taste kind of nasty in the morning.”
I pull away from him and cover my mouth. “Recovered enough to be a brat. I liked you better helpless.”
I kiss the top of his head. He raises his face and catches my mouth. He doesn’t taste that great, either.
“How about we brush our teeth?”
I hurry into the bathroom. I’ve got a toothbrush and stuff in my bag because of the concert. I brush my teeth fast. My hair is a wild mess, but I don’t have time for it. I find Derek’s toothbrush in a shaving kit by the sink, load it up with toothpaste, fill a glass with water, and run a washcloth under warm water, wring it, and head back to Derek.
I catch him disconnecting the tube that goes into his stomach. I stand there dripping while he finishes. “You do that yourself?”
“Half my life.” He pulls the sheet over the plastic port in his stomach. “I used to have to thread a tube up my nose and down the back of my throat. This is easy.”
I go to stick the toothbrush in his mouth.
He snatches it from me. “I’m not paralyzed.” He presses a button, and the head of the bed raises until he’s sitting up enough. He takes a maddeningly long time brushing his teeth. “Where am I supposed to spit?”
I whip a plastic cup off his bedside table and hand it to him. He gives me the toothbrush. I run to the bathroom to rinse it, so I don’t have to watch him spit. Not really a turn on. Neither is a hole in your stomach. Or a syringe taped to your chest.
I get back as he’s taking a last swig of fresh water. I pick up the washcloth—good, it’s still kind of warm—and wipe his face. Slowly. Major turn on. Makes up for everything else.
“Now that feels good.”
I move it down to his neck, run it over one shoulder. “About that sponge bath—”
He tugs me toward him and our lips connect. I manage to get myself onto the bed without breaking the kiss. The head of the bed lowers—smoothly—while his tongue slips softly into my mouth.
I’m lying kind of sideways—half on, half off him. I try to be careful. He’s still so weak, and I don’t want to bump the syringe that drips into the permanent port into his vein hiding just under the skin. “You’re awfully good at making out in a hospital bed.”
“Home-court advantage.” His mouth captures mine again. His hand moves under the loose scrubs top I’ve got on and caresses my back. I didn’t sleep in my bra. I savor his touch on my skin, kiss him harder—roll onto my back without falling off the bed and lie there waiting for him.
He shifts onto his side and caresses my stomach. I close my eyes—every part of me concentrating on his tender, pulsing fingertips.
“Would it kill you this morning?”
“You and your one track mind.” His face clouds up. “Don’t go there, Beth.” He draws his hand away.
I groan.
He lets the mask drop. I see his longing and frustration. “It hurts too much.” His face contorts. “Everything we won’t have.”
I roll on my side, take his face in my hands, and kiss him softly, as gently as I can, and whisper, “When it’s right.”
He turns his face away. “It won’t be, Beth. All I am is disease.”
He lets me kiss him again. I whisper, “Once upon a time there was a hideous beast who met a handsome prince. The prince saw the Beast’s agony and bestowed on it his magic kiss.”
“I’m the Beast, Beth.”
“Shhh.” I place my fingers over his mouth. “The magic kiss changed the Beast forever. She became human. She learned to love and loved the prince with all her heart.”
“And he loved her.”
I hold his eyes as I say, “And they will live happily ever after.”
He doesn’t argue, lets me kiss him again. And again. And again.
There’s a sound at the door, and I jump up, flushed and breathless.
His mom, followed by a solid man about Derek’s height with silver and dark-brown hair, enters the room. My face burns and my antiperspirant fails.
“Hey, Dad.” Derek relaxes back on his pillows as if they didn’t just walk in on us making out in Derek’s hospital bed. “Meet Beth.”
His dad nods at me and winks. Why do these people like me so much? He actually walks over to me and kisses me on the cheek. “Welcome to the team.” He squeezes my elbow and smiles Derek’s melting smile.
His dad turns to Derek and raises an eyebrow. “Rough night?”
Derek reaches for my hand. “Slept like a baby.”
His mom takes up station on the other side of the bed. She examines his empty bag of formula on his feeding IV pole. “Did you take your meds yet?”
“No, Mum. You even beat Meg here.”
“She’s late.” She goes off to find the nurse.
His dad sits down in my chair.
Derek puts the head of his bed up again. “How was work?”
His dad shrugs. “The usual.”
I retreat into the bathroom. When I come back out, his mom is back with Meg and lots of pills. Derek dutifully swallows everything.
His mom notices me standing back by the closet. “I’m going to take Beth home while you get your therapy out of the way. Dad’s staying.”
I don’t want to leave. “Can’t I?”
Derek gets comfortable with his hands behind his head, challenging me to throw that fit I threatened.
“You get some rest, young lady.” His dad can’t help yawning. He picks up the vest and shakes it out.
“I don’t need to rest. Aren’t you tired?”
He shakes his head.
“Come on, Beth.” His mom puts her arm around my waist. “You’ve done enough for now.”
“I want—”
“We’ve got so much to talk about.”
I glance over her head back at Derek. He puts his hand over his eyes and shakes his head.
I stick my tongue out at him. “If that’s the case—sure.”
“When will you be back?” There’s an anxious note in his voice that makes my heart flip.
I glance at his mom.
“A couple hours.”
He points at his mom. “Don’t scare her off.”
His mom makes me phone mine on the drive to his house. My mom doesn’t yell at me, but she says I have to come home tonight and go to school tomorrow.
“But—this is an emergency. I need to stay with him.”
Derek’s mom puts her hand out for the phone. I obey.
“We’ll make sure she gets there. No, no. It shouldn’t be late. She’s been wonderful. All right. Good-bye.” She hands me back my cell.
I slip it into my bag. I don’t dare argue. She’s in control and wants me to know it. “I wasn’t wonderful last night—more like a disaster. Why are you making this so easy for me?”
“He says he loves you. Do you love my son?”
I nod.
“Then why wouldn’t I do everything I can to keep you around? I need an ally.”
“Against him?”
“For him. When he was almost five, a doctor told me he would only last two, maybe three more years. I’ve been fighting since then to prove that man wrong.”
“Derek—resists?”
We get stopped at a red light. “He fought therapy and meds when he was little. Fed his formula to the dog—stuff like that. But that’s all second nature now. He resists in other ways—dangerous ways. For a while it was girls. Then he got together with a nice girl in his choir. But he still needed to rebel. His entire life is drugs—so he didn’t go down that road.” The light turns green. She steps on the gas.
“How could you let him get that motorcycle?”
“He’s nineteen.” She shudders. “His dad was for it. What could I do?”
“He was crazy in Switzerland.”
“Ever seen him on a skateboard?”
Stupid adrenaline. “You should have—”
“Tied him up?”
“Padded cell.”