Jen, Davis, and I are led to the waiting room, where we, like the name suggests, are to wait.

The nurse showing us the way doesn't know that I could probably find this room with my eyes closed. That the directions are seared onto the inside of my brain whether I want them to or not.

I freeze in the door. The memories aren't as overwhelming today, since I was here last week, but the fear, the panic, it's just as real, if not more.

I can feel Davis hovering behind me. He doesn't say anything, just patiently waiting while I try to get my breathing under control.

You do not get to freak out right now, Jayden, I tell myself. Sophie needs you to be strong.

Thinking about her does the trick. I square my shoulders, entering the room, and despite wanting to vomit before I inevitably pass out, I walk on surprisingly steady legs towards a chair beside Jen.

"She'll be fine," she says, looking up at me with big, hopeful eyes. I used to mistake Jen for being naive or even wistfully ignorant, but I think that was wrong. Because Jen has been in this situation before. She knows the gravity of what's happening, but she's choosing to believe. And I think, in the face of all this despair, that's pretty fucking strong.

I rest my hands on hers for a second, squeezing. "Yeah."

She has to be fine.

Davis disappears to get us coffee, and when he returns, I can see the uncertainty in his gaze. Is he here to support me or Jen? Who should he sit next to and comfort?

Jen makes the decision easy by excusing herself, saying she'll be back soon.

The surgery will take around three hours, so I understand the desire to not to sit here the entire time.

Honestly, no part of me wants to be here right now. But I need to. I need to sit here and wait and once those doctors come back, I have to be here to hear whatever they have to say.

Whatever the verdict, I need to know.

She promised me to live. I repeat those words over and over, willing her to keep her promise. The fear is winding around my windpipes like vines, and it is becoming hard to breathe.

"Tell me something," I say to Davis.

He's looking at the door, jerking a bit when I address him like for a second he forgot I was here. He takes me in, sipping his coffee. "The pedestal under the Statue of Liberty is one meter taller than the actual statue."

I blink, opening my mouth to speak, blinking again, and then I chuckle, a bit of humor bubbling inside my body, allowing my lungs to expand properly. "What? No, that wasn't... One meter?" I can't help asking.

His lips twitch. "Yeah. Isn't that weird?"

"It's weird that you use the metric system. You know you're in America, right?" I ask in a stage whisper, glancing around us as if to check for immigration, coming to drag him back to Europe or something. Though Davis was born in the U.S just like I was.

"My mum's British, you wanker," he says, not quite able to keep the posh, British accent from slipping out.

My lips curve, and Davis smiles too, a moment of ease between us, before a shadow descents, killing the happiness.

Smiles can't last today.

"What do you want to talk about?" Davis asks, taking another sip of his coffee.

I consider it. I don't really care much. Although weird fun facts weren't what I was going for. Something a bit more meaningful.

"Are you and Jen getting back together?"

Davis blows out a breath of air, looks away from me, and scratches his scalp. "Dude, you sure you wanna hear about my pathetic love life right now?"

"D, I'm panicking, okay. The woman I love is in surgery and I can't think about that, so please just tell me what's going on with you two," I say, my muscles tensing at the fleeting thought of Sophie on the operating table.

His dark eyes soften a bit and he nods. "Okay, um, I don't think 'back together' is the right way to phrase it, though, since we were never really together," he begins, slipping into his lawyer speech, always covering all the bases.

"No one gives a shit about the terminology, man."

He purses his lips a bit, and I know he gives a shit, but he might be the only one. "I don't know what we are, to be honest."

"Do you want to get back together, or start to be together or whatever?" I lean back in my seat, my breathing feeling easier. Yeah, talking about Jen and Davis makes me feel better.

"Of course I do; it's Jen," he says, but then he seems to deflate, leaning his elbows on his thighs. "But it might not be that easy."

I think about the many hoops and pitfalls and whatnots Sophie and I have had to overcome. And every time I thought we were good, that we were past the bad stuff, the ground started crumbling underneath us.

Like right now.

"It never is." I pat him on the back. "Are you finally gonna tell me what you did?"

His shoulders tense, a grinding sound coming from how hard he's clenching his teeth. He sits back up, looking over at me with something akin to shame on his face. "I was an asshole."

I nod, sipping my drink, suddenly feeling comfortable. "Well, I'm an asshole on a regular basis, so if you tell me, I can probably help you fix it."

That makes Davis smile, and with a sigh, he begins explaining.

When he finishes, my jaw has dropped. "Dude..."

I understand why Sophie was pissed. She has always backed her best friend, so of course, she would react that way to Davis' actions. And to some extent, she was right to be mad. But I also get where Davis is coming from, although I don't condone how he handled it.

Davis is the most moral person I know. He holds everyone around him to high standards. To him, the world is black and white. Right and wrong. He's never been very good at navigating the gray areas, where things are rarely as clean-cut as he would like.

Now, it seems, he'll have to learn.

"I know," he says, scrubbing a hand down his face. "So, how do I fix it?"

I think back to a similar conversation the two of us had a long time ago. "Beg. Admit you fucked up, fall to your knees, and fucking beg."

His lips curve. "You think that'll work?"

"That and orgasms always worked wonders on Sophie. Even better if you do both at the same time." I smirk when Davis' eyes widen slightly, and he looks away with a bashful expression on his face.

I narrow my eyes at him, tilting my head. "You two still haven't done it?"

He looks so uncomfortable like he wants the ground to open and swallow him whole. Davis isn't the kiss-and-tell kind of guy, but from the looks of it, there's nothing to tell. "No."

"Dude, you're so whipped."

"I know." His eyes flicker to the door like they have every couple of minutes since Jen left.

"Go," I say, and his head whips around to look at me. "Go find her. Today's not the day to fix it, but you should still go. Help her. She's probably scared."

"What about you?" I can see that he wants to go, but he also wants to support me.

"I'm okay." I will the words to be true. I will be okay when I know she is.

Davis stands, looking at me searchingly, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. Then he nods and walks out.

My breathing becomes labored again. I pull out my phone, texting Ollie to distract myself.

He seems to be doing well with the new family. We've talked on the phone a couple of times and he always sends me the code text in the evening, telling me he's okay.

He says there's another foster kid in the family. A girl a few years younger than him. She's supposed to move back to her mother soon, though. The family is supposedly very homey and domestic. The kind who watches tv shows together every night and makes home-cooked meals.

It's good. If I can't be his guardian yet, it's good he's somewhere like that. That doesn't mean I've stopped worrying. It's a constant churn in my stomach, my brain coming up with all sorts of chaos scenarios. I know just how fast things can change.

He texts back that he's at the skate park with a friend. It's after school, and one of the guys from his class is apparently also into skateboarding, so they've been going to the park by Antonella's house together sometimes. Ollie's new foster parents seem cool with it, which is good.

I haven't told him about what's going on here. I want to wait until I have some good news for him. Ollie might only have been a few minutes old when our mom died, but he's still dealt with too much loss for someone so young.

I hope to spare him any more.

Without Davis or my brother to distract me from the mounting panic, I finally allow myself to dwell in it. I drop my head into my hands and focus on breathing as images from my father and mother's funeral mix in with the mental picture of Sophie being carted off towards the OR.

I can't lose her. I just can't. But in this room, it feels almost inevitable.

I don't notice Jen and Davis returning, too consumed by the past and my fear of the present. It's not until Davis places a hand on my shoulder that I jerk back to reality. I look over at him, blinking his face into focus. It's lined with stress.

"The doctor is here," he says.

I'm out of my seat, searching the room so quickly that I almost keel over as my head swims. My eyes land on the doctor who's approaching Jen. I hurry to her side.

Jen is Sophie's emergency contact, so she's the one who'll receive all these updates. I plant myself beside her, daring the doctor to send me away.

"Jen," the doctor says as she stops in front of us. Her eyes cut to me. "And Sophie's boyfriend, I presume?"

I nod, unable to speak, the fear clogging my throat.

Remember to breathe.

I have to get my heartbeat under control so I'll be able to hear what the doctor is saying over the roar in my ears.

The doctor takes a deep breath, looking between the two of us. Before she speaks, I feel Jen's small palm snake into mine. I grasp her hand, trying to ground myself in this moment.

And then the doctor delivers the news.

It feels like I'm pulling myself out of quicksand. Like I want to move but there's something dragging my body down.

It hurts.

Not in a sharp, piercing way, but a more dull, throbbing kind of pain.

I don't think it's supposed to hurt. I'm not sure why I think that, but there's a conviction in my head that whatever this is, it shouldn't hurt.

But I can't fully grasp it. It's a slippery thought, evading me every time I try to reach for it.

Why shouldn't it hurt?

I don't think it really matters. Because there is something, I'm supposed to remember. Something important, but my hazy brain won't cooperate.

Heavy and drugged.

Drugged?

Oh, right. Anesthesia. My body never did like that. Or maybe nobody's body likes it... I don't know.

I'm still focused on the feeling of the anesthesia wearing off when I hear it. A word spoken so softly that I could have made it up. Floating by on a warm breeze.

"Sophie."

Said with so much longing and tenderness that it makes my heart ache.

Oh, right, my heart. There it is. I can feel it beating in my chest.

"Sophie."

This time it's louder, more like a chant, and the voice is clearer, deep and soft like a caress.

Jayden.

I want to see Jayden.

It's that desire that finally allows me to locate my eyelids. I blink them open, once, twice, the light assaulting my poor eyes, but it doesn't matter.

I search the room, my gaze landing on the figure sitting at my bedside, bent over, his head pressed against our interlocked hands. Jayden.

He's whispering things against my skin, too faint for me to hear.

He looks like an angel.

"Hi," I try saying, my voice hoarse, so it's more of a croak. Jayden's head flies up, eyes landing on me, and he's out of his seat, looming over me.

He looks so happy that I, at first, don't understand why he's crying. "Hi, baby. You're awake; you're okay. Oh, you're okay." He cuppes my cheek, pressing his lips to my forehead, and his tears land on my face.

"How are you feeling," he asks, leaning back with both hands framing my face, examining me.

"Disoriented."

"Thank you for surviving," he whispers.

"I don't think it's my achievement, but I'll take credit."

A smile cracks his face, and he's so freaking beautiful. "Smartass," he mutters, before he leans down and kisses me.

That's how I find the rest of my body. Because Jayden's kiss touches me everywhere, all the way out into my fingertips and down to my toes. Suddenly all my limbs are there, and I can lift them with a little effort.

He pulls away too soon, still crying. "I was so scared," he says, voice breaking.

I reach up to brush my fingers over his cheekbone. "I know. Me too."

I think... I think I'm still scared, but Jayden's happiness makes it feel less important. Like I can wait to acknowledge that feeling. Tomorrow, I can be scared tomorrow.

The door opens. Jayden turns his head, saying something, and then Jen is there. She looks scared, too, her blue eyes wide, a permanently worried v etched between her brows. But she's smiling. "Hi, Soph," she says, patting my hand. "You did good."

"Wow, I'm getting so many compliments I don't deserve. I should have surgery all the time."

Jen laughs, shaking her head and looking at Jayden. He's smiling at her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "She's good."

Jen stay for a while, fussing over me, giving me a glass of water, forcing me to drink the water, asking me if I'm in any pain and where. When Marlene comes in to check up on me, Jen hovers behind her, looking over her shoulder the whole time.

Marlene says it went well. They got most of the cancer, but we won't know more until they get the results from the lymph nodes they removed.

Jayden is on my other side, sitting in the chair and holding my hand in both of his.

Davis comes in too, asking me how I'm doing. Jen seems to gravitate toward him, and when I suggest she goes home and gets some rest, he leads her out with a hand on the small of her back.

I smile at Jayden. "Do you wanna go home too?" I ask. He looks like he could use some sleep. I don't know how he's been the last couple of days, but today must have been an emotional rollercoaster. He's probably exhausted.

"I'm not leaving," he states, squeezing my hand tighter.

"Visiting hours-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"I would like to see them try to throw me out."

He says it with so much determination that I believe him.

When I've had a bowl of clear soup for dinner, Jayden seems to prepare to sleep in the chair, but I scoot over, making room for him on the bed. He looks at me warily, like he's not sure it's a good idea.

"Please?" I ask, batting my eyes for good measure. He caves.

He touches me like I'm something fragile, something precious. Maybe that should annoy me, but I can't help but rejoice in it. Our legs tangle together, and he lays his head on my chest, and I think he might just need to hear my heart beat there in my chest to remind him that I'm alive.

I run my fingers through his hair, looking out over Ann Arbor, the snow falling down slowly.

Jayden is so happy today because I survived. I understand. After his parents' deaths, he has so much fear and pain and loss associated with hospitals and surgeries. Today was the big hurdle for him.

For me, though? The cancer isn't gone. I know that. I'll need more treatment, and even then, if they declare me in remission again, will it ever truly be gone?

I hope so. Oh, god, I hope so.

Something doctor Mallory said to me at one of my appointments sounds in my head.

'You have to live like there's a million tomorrows.'

It terrifies me to fight for what I want, especially right now. Especially when it could all be taken from me in a moment, but I have to take a leap.

So I jump.

"Jayden?" I whisper, unsure if he's asleep. He hasn't said anything in a long while.

"Yeah?" His voice is thick and groggy.

"Do you want to live together?"

He lifts his head, blue eyes searching for me in the dim room. He looks ruffled and so adorably surprised. "What?"

"Not right now, of course. You need to focus on training for nationals, and I have to heal. Jen will take care of me, but maybe we could start looking for a place... If you want?"

He blinks, opening his mouth but closing it again, wetting his lips. "Are you asking me to move in together?"

"I knew you were slow, but not this-" I cut off when he tickles my side, a playful scowl on his face.

"Are you sure?"

"Don't you want to?" I ask, suddenly nervous. I was so sure he would be overjoyed, but maybe I read the situation wrong. Maybe he doesn't need the distraction right now.

"Of course I do," he says, smiling at me, astonished.

"Okay then, so it's settled." I roll my lips into my mouth, the smile tugging at my lips.

"I love you," he says, leaning up to kiss me deeply. "So god damned much."

"I guess you're okay," I reply with a shrug. He's so happy he doesn't even chastise me.

He's playing with my hair, placing kisses all over my face when he draws back, a serious expression falling on his face. "You know I still want custody of Ollie, right?"

I nod. That's always been the plan, even though Ollie has to spend a little while with a temporary family.

"So, what does that mean for us?" he asks tentatively, a nervous set to his mouth like he's afraid I'll jump out of this bed like a spooked animal. I suppose his reaction is somewhat warranted.

"Well, he and I can live there in turns, right? One week for me, one for him." I'm smiling, because I already know he's gonna call me out on being sassy, and he can't quite fight the amusement lighting up his face, but he's still watching me closely. I take a deep breath. "It means that I'll help you. With the custody case and with taking care of him. If you want me to."

This isn't just a jump, it's a leap off a cliff, freefalling without a parachute, and I'm terrified, but it also feels oddly right. Maybe the anesthesia hasn't completely worn off because everything feels slightly more manageable than it did yesterday.

Ollie's a good kid. He needs family. We can be a family.

Jayden's beaming like I just made all his dreams come true, and it makes something tug in my chest. Does he know I still can't promise him forever? I'm not sure now is the right time to say it.

"I have to ask