Love Always, Kate Read Online Free PDF Page A

it.
    “We’re fine.” He took the empty cup from me , then faced Leslie.
    What? Did he just say “we” were fine? As in, him and me together?
    “Well,” she drawled out. “Uh, I guess if everything is under control, I’ll just…”
    Leslie looked at me and sighed. I nodded, hoping to reassure her. I knew what she thought. The look in her eye said, Be careful, Katie . Leslie took a final glance at Damian before she walked out.
    “I’m real popular with the nurses around here ,” Damian jeered at the closed door. “Especially that one.”
    “She’s just protective. This is the last place she ever wants to see any of us who’ve been here and left.”
    Damian sat down beside me and grunted. “I doubt that.”
    “You doubt what?” My eyebrows furrowed. “She cares about us, Damian.”
    “I didn’t say she didn’t,” Damian snapped, his blue irises drilling into mine.
    “Then what did you mean?”
    “The last place she wants to see you is in a coffin.” His words were hard and fell to the floor. As soon as he said them, his sad gaze shifted to his feet.
    Was he thinking about the last place he saw his mom and brother?
    I didn’t say anything. We sat in silence for a few minutes until he shifted his eyes to my lap. “What’s that?”
    “My diary.” It sounded so childish when the words came out. “Uh, cancer diary. It’s my cancer diary.”
    Yeah, nice cover-up, Spaz.
    “So, you write down stuff about cancer?” Damian asked, glancing at me.
    “Yeah. A nurse in my mom’s support group suggested it when I was first diagnosed.”
    “So, you’ve always written in one, huh?”
    I wanted to brush it off like it was no big deal. Just a dumb diary thing. But, honestly, it was a big deal. It helped me more than anything else. “I know it sounds stupid, but the diary gets me. I can talk to my parents, or the nurses, but none of them have to go through this. In reality, I’m alone. So I write down how I feel about having cancer, about the treatment, the side effects, about stares and whispers from kids at school. About anything. It helps me cope—like three-dollar therapy between two pieces of cardboard.”
    Damian chuckled. “C heap therapy.”
    I tilted my head to him and chuckled. “Yeah.”
    The door creaked open, and we both jumped. Dr. Lowell cleared his throat.
    “Sorry to interrupt, b ut, uh, Damian, can I see you for a few minutes? In my office?”
    I couldn’t see Damian’s face, but his hand curled into a fist. “Sure.”
    Dr. Lowell nodded at me, then the door closed. Damian shook his head and muttered something under his breath.
    “Are we still on for dinner in the cafeteria?” he asked, standing up. “Crappy food, but hey, I’m paying.”
    I laughed. “Okay.”
    “When are you done in here?”
    I glanced at the clock. “Forty-five minutes.”
    “I’ll pick you up.”
    “See you then.”
    Damian flashed me a dimpled grin before he disappeared out the door.
    Unable to stop thinking about him, I opened my diary and wrote about our conversation and how he had sat right there while I puked. His expression showed the normal reactions of concern and worry, but there was something else , too. Something I didn’t recognize. I wrote about the feel of his hand on mine. How I couldn’t decide if the butterflies were because of the chemo, the fact that I just finished throwing up, or because his touch felt amazing.
    I was so engrossed in writing that I barely noticed Leslie standing next to me. When I looked up, I jumped.
    “Sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    “Oh. That’s okay. I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, taking a deep breath.
    “Do you mind if I sit?”
    Odd. Leslie had never asked before. “Go ahead.”
    “I wanted to speak with you,” she started. “About Damian.” Leslie was older than my mother with t wo grown children of her own. She’d always treated me as an equal, but this was going to be a “mom” conversation, I could tell.
    “I