Page 12 of Write Me For You

“Take walks regularly; see the horses, feed them, groom them at the stables—just make sure you tell us where you are at all times so we can monitor you. Like Dr. Duncan said, the price for this new, exciting treatment is the harsh side effects. We need to be sure you are okay, twenty-four seven.” Neenee smiled, then moved toward the parents for a chat with them.

We patients were silent, reflective, until: “Jesse, bro, give me your hand.” Chris grabbed hold of Jesse’s hand and gripped it in his own. “Why am I being left out of the hand-holding train with y’all?”

I laughed along with Emma at Chris’s petulant expression.

Jesse turned to him. “Sorry, man. I just don’t feel that way toward you.”

Chris threw away Jesse’s hand and moved to the other side of Emma, taking hold of her free hand. “Fine. I’ll hold Emma’s, then.”

Emma leaned into Chris’s arm and rolled her eyes. Their senses of humor matched, and in the past couple of days, they had bounced off one another’s personalities perfectly.

I finally let myself look at Jesse. “You can let go,” I said softly, and nudged my chin to our joined hands. “The scary talk is over for the moment.”

Jesse scrunched his nose up. It was a ridiculously attractive move. “Nah, I’m good.” He squeezed my hand and then looked at the clock on the wall. “Did y’all read the welcome info in the rooms? They’ve put us into groups for the treatment. I’m in group two. What about you guys?”

“One,” Emma and Chris said in unison, they released their joined hands and high-fived when they realized they’d be doing treatment together.

“Junebug?” Jesse asked.

“Two,” I said, my pulse racing, and watched his face light up. A shiver of happiness ran down my spine at that.

“The schedule said group two has an hour until our scans. Want to duck outside for a while? Emma and Chris are up now,” Jesse said.

I glanced across the room to my parents. They were still talking to Neenee. “Okay.” A flutter of nerves burst in my chest.

“Have fun, you two,” Emma said knowingly, and Chris waved goodbye.

I got to my feet and caught my dad’s eye. I pointed outside to let him know where I was going. He nodded, then refocused on Neenee.

I thought Jesse would release my hand as we walked past the other group and out into the hallway, but he didn’t. He tucked his football under his free arm but kept tight hold of me. I gripped my notebook to my chest and already felt words building within me. This feeling…it was new—it was… nice .

Bailey, one of the nurses, walked past us.

Jesse led us down the hallway and into the warmth of the outside.

The smell of fresh air swept over me, and I smiled when the sun kissed my face.

Only then did Jesse’s hand release my own.

As I stepped off the porch and onto the lawn, I looked out to the paddocks where the horses were grazing.

The chestnut gelding I had developed a fondness for looked up and started walking toward us.

I made my way to the fence just as he did.

The familiar smell of horse danced around me.

I knew some people hated it, but it was comforting to me.

The gelding lowered his head, and I ran my hand down his face, over his white blaze.

I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face.

As his head lowered farther, I pressed my forehead to his and just soaked this moment in.

“You really like horses, huh?” Jesse’s gravelly voice came from behind me.

When I turned, he was leaning against a nearby tree, watching me.

I ran my hand down the gelding’s neck and combed my fingers through his silky mane.

“I adore them,” I said, and tucked my notebook in the back pocket of my jeans so I could pat the gelding with both hands.

I chuckled as he bobbed his head for more love when I momentarily stopped.

“I used to ride, did show jumping and dressage.”

“Used to?” Jesse questioned.

I lifted my leg. “Not long after I was diagnosed, I lost a lot of strength in my leg and haven’t managed to regain it.” I shrugged. “It impacted how I rode, so I pulled back from it.” The echo of that heartache still lived inside me.

Jesse approached. It felt like there was a shift to the air as he closed the distance, like he was a force unto himself affecting the air around me.

He reached out and patted the gelding’s neck too.

“My best friend is a cowboy, through and through. I’ve ridden a little with him, but I’m far from good. ”

He leaned over the fence as I kept making a fuss over the horse. He was beautiful.

“I’ve lost a lot of my strength in my throwing arm,” he said, and I looked over at him in concern. He fiddled with his backwards Longhorns cap. “It sucks when your cancer not only takes away your health but what you love doing most too.”

My hands stilled on the horse, and I turned to Jesse.

He was staring out over the paddocks, to the horizon, and I saw a flicker of vulnerability on his handsome face.

This brazen boy had revealed something to me that caused him pain.

He turned to me and gave me a pasted-on smile.

“But I’m determined to get it back.” Jesse presented as a fun-loving jock, and I had only known him a few days, but I could see it was a bit of a mask and there was much more underneath.

But now wasn’t the time to push.

I returned my attention to the horse and fixed his forelock that had gone awry. The gelding turned back to the paddock and walked away. As he left us, I wondered if I’d ever get back on a horse again.

“So,” Jesse said, leaning back against the fence post. “Are you gonna talk to me about that notebook that’s glued to your hands? I’ve been dying to know what it’s about. You haven’t even hinted at it in the past few days.”

I mirrored his stance against the fence.

I was normally reserved about my biggest passion, but with Jesse, even only knowing him a short time…

I felt safe to share. When I looked to him again, he raised an eyebrow and tapped an invisible watch on his wrist. “I’m waiting, Junebug, and you know how limited we are with our time . ”

I shook my head at how he joked about cancer so openly, laughing. “We’re reclaiming that time with this new treatment, remember?” I replied. When he tapped his wrist again, I said, “I want to be a writer— no .” I shook my head. “I am a writer.”

“What do you like to write?” he asked, attention locked on me, as though I was the most interesting person in the world.

I glanced down as I said, “I want to write love stories.”

“ June bug,” Jesse said, pursing his lips. “I didn’t think you had it in you!” He held up his hands. “Wait, are we talking buff fairies and vampires? Were you reading for research?”

I slapped him gently on the arm and rolled my eyes as I laughed again. “I don’t want to write spicy romance, Jesse, though there is nothing wrong with that.” I admonished him with a harsh stare.

He held his hands up in surrender.

I took a deep breath and really tried to convey my dream.

“I love love stories—the kind that has your heart leaping from your chest. Ones that change a reader’s life.

Make them believe in true love. Soulmates.

I want to write at least one great, epic love story that lasts through the ages.

” I felt slightly embarrassed by my confession, but Jesse appeared fascinated.

“You said you want to…” Jesse said, an implied question in his tone.

I sighed. “I haven’t written a single love story yet. At least, not one like I want to.”

“Why?”

I focused on the horses in the distance as I whispered, “Because I don’t know what it feels like.” I turned to Jesse, to see him frowning in confusion.

“What what feels like?”

“Love,” I said on a defeated sigh. “I want to write about love, but I don’t know what it feels like to be in love. Or to be loved.” My heart fell, and for a moment, I let myself embrace a true fear. “And if this treatment doesn’t work…I never will.”

When only silence met my ears, I turned to Jesse to see an unreadable expression on his face. He was still holding the football at his chest, but his attention was focused entirely on me.

The tips of my ears burned under his heavy attention. I played with the end of my headscarf and said, “So now you know what the notebook is for,” I said. “For the day that something happens and I can begin the love story I believe I was destined to write.”

“You have the notebook on hand just in case?” he asked, and I immediately felt silly.

“Stupid, I know,” I said, and stepped away from the fence.

Jesse reached out and placed his hand gently on my wrist, stopping me from heading back inside. “Not stupid,” he said seriously, which made me swallow my embarrassment. “It’s not stupid at all.”

A rare serious expression on his face, he opened his mouth to speak again when Bailey opened the door behind us. “Jesse, June?” he called. “Your group is up.”

I inhaled through my nose and headed back inside. Jesse caught up to me and put out his fist.

I looked up at him, puzzled.

“Group two for the win!” he said, and I met his fist bump with my own.

“Group two for the win,” I echoed, and Jesse took my hand again, leading me inside.

The desire to write something burned through me again. It wasn’t the start of a book. It wasn’t even an idea. But maybe I could write a few sentences—a few sentences about a boy taking my hand in his and how it caused my heart to swell in my chest.

And if I only ever had that, at least it was something.

It was a start.