Page 39 of Write Me For You

June

Jesse and June’s Happily Ever After

“ H oly shit!” Chris said as the team was called and they ran out into the stadium. It was something to see, one hundred thousand people screaming and dressed in orange.

“I get it now,” Emma said, and looked at me.

“Why it was overwhelming.” When we had gotten back to my dorm last night, I had told her everything.

It took all I had to not allow her to go and find the girls who said things about me and give them a beat down.

But like the best friend she was, she understood why I needed a break from it all.

It was a lot.

“There’s my boy!” Chris shouted as Jesse stepped onto the field.

By the time the second half started, Chris was hoarse from screaming, and my cheeks ached from smiling. Jesse was on fire once more. It was like he couldn’t put a pass wrong; every move he made was perfection.

As a whistle blew, Emma took hold of my arm. “June,” she said, like she’d forgotten to tell me something. “Your story,” she said, and I saw tears quickly fill her eyes. “It’s so beautiful. Brutal,” she said with a watery laugh, “but beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said, embarrassed.

“You know you’re going viral, don’t you?”

I did. But I never really talked about it with anyone. Outside of my family, Jesse, Chris, and Emma, no one knew it was me who was writing the story that had become one of the most read publications on the platform.

My face blazed at Emma’s mention of it. It was what I adored about writing. This thing I did, the worlds I created, the characters I gave life to felt so big and consuming, yet behind the scenes, I could live a normal little life—one of privacy and beauty and peace.

“Kind of,” I eventually answered.

Emma playfully rolled her eyes at me. “Kind of? June, this could be huge for you. Like, life-changing big.” That’s something else that had happened within the past month—the story of me and Jesse at the ranch, about our treatments not working, had exploded.

To be honest, I was trying not to think about it too much.

It all felt a bit overwhelming when I did.

And I didn’t want it to take away my joy of writing.

I wrote because I wanted to. I didn’t think I could cope with the pressure of having to.

A roar from the crowd pulled our attention, and I watched a throw by Jesse sail into the air. He had thrown it so far, my mouth dropped open at the skill…then it landed right in the end zone, in Sheridan’s hands.

The crowd around us lost their minds, and we jumped to our feet. Jesse’s face flashed up on the Jumbotron. My hands were over my mouth, but then my eyes narrowed. Jesse’s team was all jumping around him in celebration, but I was fixated on Jesse.

Every part of me froze. Something was wrong. My heart plummeted when, through the gaps in his helmet, I saw his eyes losing focus. I knew Emma and Chris had seen something too because Chris stopped jumping and Emma gripped my arm.

“Jesse,” I whispered to myself, just as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto the field. A scream ripped from my throat, and I looked to Emma and Chris.

What was wrong? What was happening?

Terror, pure and strong, took me in its hold, and I watched the big screen as medics ran out onto the field and took off Jesse’s helmet. He was unconscious, that much I could see. The crowd began to quiet, realizing that Jesse was down and wasn’t getting back up.

“Get up,” I said to him. “Get up! Jesse, get up!” My voice was shrill and in the silence of the stands, people began looking at me.

My cell rang, and I saw it was Jesse’s mama calling. “Cynthia,” I said by way of greeting.

“What’s happening, June? Is he okay?” The game was televised today, which meant anyone watching this game was watching Jesse on their screens right now—not getting up.

“I don’t know… I don’t know.” My bottom lip wobbled. “I’m scared.”

Cynthia said, “I know you are, sweetie. So am I. But—” she went quiet, then: “June, someone is calling. I’ll call back.”

I nodded like she could see me.

A stretcher was brought out onto the field, and I watched helplessly as Jesse was placed on it, and the medics rushed off the field with the love of my life.

Someone nearby had a broadcast playing loudly on their phone beside us.

“We’re not sure what has happened, but we know that Jesse Taylor is a survivor of acute myeloid leukemia.

In fact, he was diagnosed stage four last year, but he was chosen for a clinical trial that saved his life.

He fought hard to keep his scholarship and his place on the Longhorns.

I truly hope he’s okay, and it has nothing to do with his past health issues. ”

Blood drained from my face. Was Jesse relapsing? Is that what was happening? Chris and Emma must have heard the broadcast too, as when I turned to them, they had paled.

Chris grabbed Emma’s hand, and she took hold of mine. “Let’s go. We’ll find out where he is. He needs us.”

We rushed through the stands, garnering curious stares. Then a whistle blew and the game was back on. I wanted to run onto the field and scream at them all for carrying on when Jesse, my Jesse, had just collapsed. But Chris was pulling us down the stairs, trying to find a way to the locker rooms.

The stadium was huge and packed with security, but just before we reached them, my phone rang again. “Cynthia,” I said.

“They’re taking him to the hospital,” she said, and told me which one. “I’m trying to get cover at work so I can get out there.”

“We’re going now,” I said, running for a nearby exit.

Chris and Emma followed. My head was full, and my nerves had engulfed me.

“I’ve got an Uber coming. Two minutes,” Chris said, and pulled me along to where it was picking us up. I heard an ambulance in the distance and wondered if Jesse was in it.

“June, listen to me,” Cynthia said. “I’ll call ahead to the hospital and tell them you’re coming.

I won’t be able to get there until tomorrow and he needs someone with him.

I’ll get you permission to be by his side.

” Her voice cracked, and it caused my numbness to break and fear to race through me. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, just as a white SUV pulled up beside us. “We’re leaving now.”

“Call me as soon as you know anything,” she said.

“I will,” I whispered, hanging up as Emma pushed me into the car. We set off, and it only took me a few minutes to realize the radio was the commentary of the Longhorns game.

“We’re waiting on any word from the Longhorns on the status of quarterback Jesse Taylor…”

Tears built in my eyes, and Chris leaned over to the driver and said, “Can you turn the channel, bro?” The driver did what he said, but I noticed his curious glances.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Chris said, reaching across Emma squeeze my hand.

“He is,” Emma said, linking her arm with mine. “It was probably just tiredness or overexertion.” They were trying to make me feel better, but none of us were saying what we were all thinking—that his cancer might be back.

Dr. Duncan had said 50 to 85 percent chance of relapse.

The traffic to the hospital made it take forever, and by the time we got there, all my darkest thoughts were filling my body with dread. I was terrified of walking in there and being told he hadn’t made it.

“June?” Chris said, and I realized I was standing, unmoving, in the entryway.

I shook my head, and tears fell from my eyes.

“What if he’s not okay?” My feet were rooted to the spot.

I couldn’t move. “He’s the love of my life, Chris.

He’s my everything.” I looked at my two friends.

“What if he’s not okay?” My voice shook.

“What if it’s back, only this time it takes him from me? ”

“We can’t think like that,” Emma said, but I heard the concern in her voice.

“We have to go in and see how he is,” Chris said, holding out his hand.

I felt like if I took his hand that would make all this real.

And if I didn’t, this would just be a bad dream that I would wake up from.

“June,” he said again, only ripping me from my fear when he said, “he needs you. Jesse needs you.”

My feet began to move then, and the sound of the hospital engulfed us. Chris spoke to a receptionist, and I briefly heard him mention my name, but I just held onto Emma, trying to keep it together.

“We need to have a seat while they find out what’s happening,” Chris said, and led us to a nearby couch. “I’ll get us coffee,” he said, and walked away to a vending machine.

“Are you okay?” Emma said. When I shook my head, she put her arm around me and just stared at the doors that seemed to lead deeper into the hospital.

Chris came back with coffee, but I let mine go cold in my hand. It felt like we waited forever before a man in a white coat came toward us. My eyes widened when I saw it was Dr. Duncan.

He headed straight for us. “Chris, Emma, June,” he greeted.

“Is he okay?” I whispered.

Dr. Duncan regarded me silently, then said, “Please come this way.” My heart beat so fast, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Then it hit me: Dr. Duncan was here—it had come back. Jesse’s cancer had come back.

I didn’t realize I had stopped until Dr. Duncan turned around and said, “Please, come this way, Miss Scott.”

My palms were sweaty as I followed him down a hallway.

It took so long it felt like a marathon until we arrived at a door.

Dr. Duncan walked inside, and a sob tore from my throat when I found Jesse in a bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

He was no longer in his football uniform; instead, he had on a hospital gown and an IV of fluids in his arm.

At my cry, Jesse’s gaze snapped to me, his eyes filled with sorrow.

“Junebug,” he rasped, and I ran to him, throwing myself over where he lay.

I looped my arms around his neck and vowed to never let go.

He wrapped me up in his strong arms and held me back.

I felt wetness on my neck and pulled back to see he was crying too.

“Jesse?” I said, a question in my tone.

Jesse nodded, and I collapsed against on his chest, holding him again.

It was back. The cancer was back.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t lose him. We were just getting started. And, oh God, I had forced us into a break; I had wasted precious time not being by his side.

“June,” Jesse said, and rubbed my back. I lifted off him, and Jesse motioned with his head to the foot of the bed.

Dr. Duncan stood there with a file.

Jesse clasped my hand and squeezed. He was nervous. Of course he was.

“Miss. Scott,” Dr. Duncan said. My heart was in my throat as I waited for what he would say next. “Jesse and I have already discussed this, but unfortunately, his blood work and scans have shown that his acute myeloid leukemia has returned.”

Dr. Duncan’s words circled my head, playing on a constant loop, breaking my heart into tiny fragments. I turned to Jesse. His back was straight, and he nodded. He was so strong. So perfect and brave.

I kissed Jesse’s hand, as Dr. Duncan said, “The good news is, we believe we have caught it early.”

“What happens now, Doc?” Jesse asked.

Dr. Duncan continued to study the file. “The same treatment as before. It worked the first time, so the chances of it working again are very high.”

I dropped my head to lean it on Jesse’s arm. Chemo—aggressive chemo and immunotherapy again. For the next several months.

Football…he won’t be able to play anymore this year…

“Okay,” Jesse said, his voice calm and unwavering. I looked at him then and he met my eyes. “Then I’ll just have to beat it again. Easy.” He tried for humor, but this time, it didn’t land. My lip wobbled and Jesse grew serious. “I’m not leaving you, Junebug. We have too much life to live together.”

I nodded, but sadness had captured my voice.

“I love you,” he said.

Finding my voice, I said, “I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.”

Jesse lifted his fist, and a wide smile took up his face. “Group two for the win…again.”

A strained laugh did slip from my mouth this time. But I held out my fist and bumped it against his. “Group two for the win again.”

And he had to win. I would entertain no other outcome.

Jesse Taylor had to live.