Page 108 of Play For Me

My dad is saying something, his voice panicked—because he’s definitely not ever heard me cry like this before. Mom is talking, too, and Aunt Daisy’s grip on my hand feels too tight. But then familiar arms are coming around me, lifting me a little, so gently that I don’t even feel it in my knee. I’m pulled into a solid, warm chest and Sol is cradling the back of my head. I clutch at him, sobbing harder.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice steady and calm. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“I heard it,” I sob. “I swear I heard it pop.”

He doesn’t try to convince me that I imagined it or that I was hearing something else. He just holds me, rubbing firm circles down my back. He manages to get up onto the table with me and he pulls me into his lap while somehow keeping my bad leg still. I turn into him, my face briefly exposed to the room. I get a fleeting glance of shocked, still faces, my family gaping at me like they’ve never seen me before. Then Sol’s whole body seems to surround me, his familiar scent and his comforting warmth filling my senses, blocking me off from the rest of the world. Icling to his neck and cry while he whispers into my ear, over and over again.

You’re so strong.

The strongest person I know.

You’re going to get through this. I’m going to help you.

You’re so strong, Cecelia.

It’s going to be okay.

I’m right here.

I don’t know how long we stay like that, him holding me on the treatment table while I fall apart. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I’m going to regret this later, that I’ll feel embarrassed when I realize that I completely fell apart in front of everyone, but right now, I don’t care. There’s only one person in the world who could possibly make me feel even the slightest bit better and he’s currently holding me tighter than I’ve ever been held before.

Eventually my sobs slow. He doesn’t lessen the pressure of his hold for a while after that, keeping my face tucked into his chest. Finally, his arms loosen and he looks down at me, his expression gentle as he starts to wipe away my tears. I hear a noise behind me and go rigid, remembering how many people had been surrounding my bed before I lost it.

“That was someone out in the hallway,” he says immediately. “It’s just us in here.” I pull back enough to look around and sure enough, my family has disappeared. “Your parents made everyone leave.”

I close my eyes, relieved. I can put off seeing them for a little while, at least. I’m pretty shocked my parents willingly left, though.

“They’re going to wait for Devon in the hall,” Sol says, as if he read my mind. “They wanted to make sure he would give us a minute.”

I start to move away as reality crashes in. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Fuck that,” he says, pulling me right back into him. “You don’t need to worry about that right now, okay? No one is coming in here. Just breathe.”

I give myself a moment to do just that, but it’s hard to stay calm now that my crying fit is over. “What am I gonna do, Sol?” I whisper, my voice cracking.

He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll tell you exactly what we’re going to do. Devon will come in soon and brace your knee, and then we’ll go back to your place. We’ll get comfortable on your bed—maybe watch some of those cheesy horror movies you like. You’ll let me ice your knee and apply compression, and we’ll get take out and relax.” I laugh into his shirt, the sound watery with tears.

“You won’t bug me about my meal plan?”

He chuckles, too. “I won’t say a single word. I’ll even buy you two desserts.”

I snuggle into him, trying to keep from crying again.

“And then what?” I whisper.

“We’ll fall asleep together and tomorrow, I’ll go with you to get your scan. And once we get the results, we can figure out what to do next.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It won’t be easy,” he says. “But I’m going to be there with you the entire time.”

“You promise?” I hate the way my voice sounds, so needy and broken. But Sol just gives me that same sure, even expression he always wears. The one that makes me feel safe and calm. The one that makes me think that maybe everything will be okay after all.

“I promise, Cecelia.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

SOLOMON