CHAPTER SIX
1415 Words
Lily
I stepped into the shower and stood there for what seemed like forever. I was in the thick of chemo, we barely had a week until Christmas, and Maverick was home. I hadn’t seen him yet... no, let me rephrase. Our bedroom windows looked in on each other’s rooms, so technically, I had seen him because I’d secretly spied on him. Several times. The latest time, I’d kept all the lights off in my room, made sure the shades were drawn, and took Hunter’s old kid binoculars from one of his “spy” playsets and peeked into Maverick’s room.
His shades were up, and he’d been in his room. sitting on his bed, he was wearing his earbuds and staring down at his phone. He looked like he’d just come from a run, so he was shirtless and sweaty, and all I could think about was how I wanted to run my tongue over the ridges of his stomach.
The tears fell as I covertly watched him, but when he glanced up toward my window (he always looked up... like he knew I was watching him), I’d gasped and fallen against my wall, letting the sobs overtake me as I dropped my head to my knees and cried. God, I missed him. I was desperate for him and wished he could hold me while I was puking, or rub my back while I was in pain, but I couldn’t do that to him. Wouldn’t do that to him. More than anything, though, I missed talking to him. I no longer had that other part of me, and it just felt so, so wrong.
I shook off my sadness and shampooed my hair, my hands pulling away with massive clumps of my hair. I knew this was coming—had been warned—but as more and more of my locks peeled away from my scalp, I felt like I might die. “Mom!” I screamed. “Mommy!”
The bathroom door slammed against the wall. “Lily, what’s wrong?” Dad bellowed, and I heard Rex bark. The dog hadn’t left my side since I’d been diagnosed. Mom was convinced he had detected my cancer even before we did. She was probably right.
“I need Mom,” I rasped.
“I’m here, honey,” Mom said. “It’s okay, Alex. I’ve got her.”
“f**k!” he snapped.
“Lil, I’m here, baby girl. What do you need?” Mom asked.
“All... My hair... It’s...” I couldn’t finish. The sobbing overtook me, and I lowered myself into the bathtub, wrapping my arms around my knees.
She pulled the curtain back a little, and I felt her hand on my head. I looked up at her, and she smiled gently. “You still want to do what we talked about?”
I nodded.
“Okay, I’ll grab the scissors so you can at least finish your shower, and then I’ll get the clippers ready.”
I nodded again, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Lil?”
I looked up at her. “Hmm?”
“This is all temporary, and none of it changes how beautiful you are inside and out. You’ll grow your hair back. I promise.”
“I know that in here”—I tapped my head—“But I really feel like I’m going to be sick.”
“I know, honey.”
“I’m sure that makes me vain or something.”
Mom sighed. “Sweetheart, you’ve got cancer. You get to feel however the f**k you want to feel... and no, it’s not vain. Losing one’s hair is disconcerting. It’s why Rogaine was invented.”
I blinked back tears. “This is probably true.”
She gripped my chin gently. “Beautiful Lily. Nothing takes that away from you, sweet girl.”
“Thanks, Mama,” I whispered.
“I’ll be right back.”
She closed the curtain but returned with a pair of scissors, so I could cut off as much of my hair as possible (there was a lot of it), so it didn’t clog the drain. She then put it all in a baggy and waited while I finished my shower.
I threw on a robe and then sat in front of the vanity in her bathroom. I ran my hands over my short hair and shook my head. “I feel naked.”
“You know, this can wait,” Mom said.
“No. I want to do it.”
Dad walked in. “How about you let your old man handle the clippers.”
I met my dad’s eyes in the mirror and didn’t miss the sheen of tears. “Are you sure, Daddy?”
“Yeah, baby girl. Been doin’ your brothers’ hair for a while now. Think I got a handle on this.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Mom kissed him gently then handed him the clippers and stepped back. As strange as this sounds, having the clippers slide over my scalp felt weirdly liberating. Once it was done, my eyes looked huge, which would take a little getting used to, but other than that, I didn’t look like a freak, so that made me feel a little less devastated as I ran my hands over my head. “This is so weird. I look like a fifty’s alien.”
“You look beautiful,” Mom said. “Kind of like Sinéad O’Connor back in the day.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
Mom sighed. “I know, I’m old. I’ll play you one of her songs sometime.”
“Sounds good.” I slid my arms around Dad’s waist and squeezed. “Thanks, Daddy.”
“All good, baby girl,” he said gruffly. “You go get dressed, and I’ll clean up the mess.”
This was my cue to leave, so I did, knowing Mom would probably need to talk Dad down off a ledge or two before they left their room.
I walked into my room and closed the door, grabbing a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt and pulling them on. I couldn’t stop myself from looking toward my window, stalling when I found Maverick standing at his staring at me.
Shit! I forgot to close the blinds.
His face showed shock, then anger, then confusion. Then he was gone. He’d shut off his light as he stormed out of his bedroom.
I let out a sigh of relief and gathered up my dirty clothes to dump in the laundry room... that was when all hell broke loose.
“Lily!” Maverick yelled, then I heard the low growl of my dad’s voice. “No, goddammit! Where is she?” Maverick continued.
“Maverick!” Dad bellowed. “Get the f**k back down here.”
My door slammed open, and all of a sudden, Maverick was there, standing in my doorway. Breathing hard, his face contorted in rage then concern as his hands fisted at his sides. I dropped the clothes I was holding and grabbed one of the posts of my bed to keep myself from falling over.
“What’s wrong with you?” he demanded.
“I swear to f*****g Christ, Maverick Quinn, you get the hell out of here,” Dad demanded.
Maverick seethed. “I am not going anywhere, Hawk, until I get some answers.”
“Dad, it’s okay,” I said.
“Lily,” Maverick said, his voice low and demanding.
“Let’s let them talk,” Mom said, always the voice of reason.
“You’re an adult now, Mav. Legally, I can beat the s**t out of you,” Dad ground out.
“But it can wait until they talk,” Mom said, pulling my door closed without a backward glance.
Maverick crossed his arms, and I licked my lips. He was bigger. God, he looked good. Sweats slung low on his hips, a tight T-shirt, and bare feet—indicating he still respected my mom enough to remove his shoes at the front door.
“You on drugs?” he demanded.
“No, Maverick, I’m not on drugs,” I said with a sigh. “In what universe would I ever be a druggy?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he seethed, “the one where you start seein’ some other guy and dump my ass.”
“Maverick,” I breathed out, my heart breaking.
- Writer
