Page 37 of Write Me For You

Jesse

N eenee didn’t say anything as I climbed in bed next to June. I’m sure she called June’s parents to make sure it was okay, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t leaving her alone. Chris was with his parents in his room. Emma’s body had been taken into the room of rest in the chapel.

I blinked into the dark night, knowing the sunrise was not too far off. I couldn’t make sense of what had happened tonight. My arms were wrapped tightly around June. My chest was wet from her tears. I felt numb. I had no words to say. It just all seemed so unfair.

June slowly moved back, and I took in her tearstained face.

Red blotches mottled her skin, and her eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

She stared at me for a long time, like she was committing me to memory.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much that I don’t know how I’d ever exist without you. ”

Every word sank into my soul, and any pain I had in my body washed away like it was being bathed in golden light.

“Junebug,” I murmured and cupped her cheek. She was telling me just in case. “I love you so much, I can barely contain it.” Her eyes shined, and even though broken, a smile etched onto her lips. I moved in slowly and kissed my girl. I kissed and kissed her, trying to erase the sadness in her soul.

As I pulled back, June said, “You hold my entire heart in your hands.”

I smiled. “And you hold mine in yours.” I lifted her hand and traced her palm with my fingertip. I met her eyes. “If anything happens to me?—”

“Please, don’t,” she whispered. “I can’t hear it right now.”

But I needed to say this. Seeing Emma tonight was proof that anything could happen to us at any time.

I didn’t want anything unsaid. “Junebug, if anything happens to me, I want you to look at the palm of your hand, the one that holds my heart, and know that I loved you more than anyone has ever loved before.”

“Jesse,” June murmured.

“You have been the biggest blessing in my entire life, Junebug. Not football, not anything …but you. I just want you to know that. If all we ever get is a few more weeks at this ranch, then it will be a life well lived.”

June began to cry again, and although the moment was heavy, I felt lighter telling her these things. “You have become my life,” she said. “And for however long we have left, that will never change.”

She flipped my hand over and traced a heart with her fingertip on my palm. I smiled at her. “My heart is in your hand too,” she said.

Leaning over to her bedside table, I found June’s pencil case and pulled out a permanent marker.

Taking off the lid with my teeth, I lay back beside her and opened her hand, palm facing me.

Then I began to draw. June didn’t watch the pen.

She watched my face, like she was committing every part of me to memory.

“There,” I said when I was finished.

June took her intense focus off my face and looked at her hand. The peal of sweet laughter that fell from her mouth made my heart stutter. June flicked her gaze up to me and said, “You couldn’t have just drawn a love heart, could you?”

I put my hand on my chest. “June, jocks can know biology too.”

She laughed again, and then traced the heart I had drawn in permanent black ink—a perfectly sketched anatomical heart that now sat in the center of her palm.

My heart.

June opened my right hand and said, “You need a matching one.”

I held up my hand and drew another anatomical heart on the center of my palm—exactly like June’s.

“There,” she said, and pressed our palms together. “Now we’ll always take care of the other’s heart.” I kissed the heart on June’s palm, and she kissed mine.

The room was silent. I ran my hand over June’s smooth head. “Are you okay?” It was a ridiculous question, but I didn’t know what else to say.

“No,” she said. “Are you?”

I thought of Emma on the bed and felt my chest cave in. “No.”

“I hate cancer,” June said.

I agreed: Cancer sucked. “I do too.”

June played with my fingers, and I dropped a kiss on her head. I had squeezed Emma’s hand as we left her room, and I was startled by how cool it had felt so quickly. As June’s body heat warmed me, I made sure to treasure it—it meant we were still alive.

“All I keep thinking is: What if we do survive? What if the antibodies work this time…only for one of us to relapse?” June’s breathing was choppy, fearful. “All the fighting just to have it happen again.”

The thought sent shivers down my spine. “If that does happen,” I said, “I want it to happen to me.”

“No, Jesse,” June said, shaking her head.

“Yes. God, Junebug, I couldn’t take it if it happened to you. I couldn’t.”

“I feel the same about you.”

I knew she did. But my decision was made. If God wanted one of us to do this all over again, it had to be me.

“I miss her already,” June said. The deep sorrow in her voice destroyed me.

I caught sight of June’s notebook on her dresser. “In our other life, the one you are bringing to reality,” I said, and tipped my chin at her notebook, “keep Emma alive.”

June stilled.

“We may have lost her in this one, but we’re living in the other one too.” I smiled sadly. “In our parallel universe.”

June tried to smile too, then nodded. “She’s alive in our happily ever after. Thriving.”

“Thriving,” I repeated, and held June close as she cried until her breathing eventually evened out, and I listened to her inhales and exhales as she slept.

She loved me and I loved her. I lifted her hand and kissed the heart that now sat on it. This girl truly did have my heart in her hands.

And I was fine with never getting it back.