Wishful Thinking Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above copyright owner of this book.

  Copyright © 2015 by Gabbie S. Duran

  Cover art by Rebecca Marie of The Final Wrap

  Editing done by Edee M. Fallon, Mad Sparks Editing

  Proofreading done by Jessica Bee of Proofreading By The Page

  Formatting by Stacey Blake of Champagne Formats

  Printed in the United States of America First Edition: September 2015 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data # 1-2703938881

  www.facebook.com/authorgabbiesduran

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Books by the author

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  Epilogue

  American Cancer Society

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Books by the author

  Unspoken Series

  Unspoken Memories

  Unspoken Promises

  Unspoken Endings

  Unspoken Temptation

  Clarity

  With Me

  To my rock star, Danielle. Without you this story would have never became perfection.

  And to my Nana Cuca, who will one day take a piece of my heart with her.

  “READY?”

  My question is posed as if refusing any chance of rejection. I will not take no for an answer. Not with Braden. This means too much to him. His eyes light up and with an ecstatic smile he responds, “As ready as we can be.”

  Returning his smile, I say, “Good. Let’s hurry or else we’ll be late.” He’s already standing when I give the command. Peering down the hall, I find our last coconspirator who will be assisting with the execution of our plan. My nervousness increases with every step towards Braden’s room. I’ve planned every detail down to the minute. One false move or one moment too late and the entire mission will be void, but I refuse to disappoint him. It’s not an option. He will get his wish tonight, even if it costs me my job.

  It’s what I say about every patient and their wish.

  This is not my first mission, nor will it be my last—if I still have a job when we’re done. Every single one takes careful planning, especially those like tonight.

  Glancing towards the two people walking on each side of me, I know it will also be their jobs on the line if we are found out. This isn’t the first time they’ve gone along with my crazy schemes. It’s no secret what I do. My co-workers have labeled me the “Angel of the Ward” for these tasks. However, they both have families to support and selfishly putting their jobs in jeopardy to help me shouldn’t be an option.

  “You both sure about this? You can still back out now and I won’t hold it against you.”

  “If this is your way of thinking you’re going to take all the credit like you did the last time, then you’re drunk on too much caffeine. Go home,” Aidan laughs out.

  “No way. If he wants the stars, I’m delivering him the damn stars and the moon with it,” Katherine conveys from my other side.

  There is no way to resist the smile I am now wearing because of their comments.

  Nearing the room I have spent so much time in for the last six months, my heart becomes heavy and my smile dissipates. I force myself to hold onto the joy I’ve been carrying from the moment I began planning this task.

  Entering room 710, we’re greeted with sorrow-filled eyes, but a hopeful smile. “We’re really doing this?” Braden’s mother asks, sounding hopeful, but unable to disguise the hesitation in her question.

  “I promised,” I declare with a nod. “And I’m keeping my promise,” I add with a wink as I turn to face the person I made my promise to.

  Staring back at me is a weak smile, and I know deep down inside he’s using every ounce of strength to deliver it.

  “Hey there, buddy, you ready to reach for the stars?”

  His smile widens, not by much, but enough for me to know he’s answering with a silent “Yes.”

  “Let’s hurry. We only have forty-five minutes before the security guard decides to get back to work.”

  It isn’t a secret the security guard takes his nightly nap during this hour, but there is no guarantee he is actually taking it and won’t notice the cameras have been adjusted to face the two doors we won’t be using.

  “You have the tank?” I ask Aiden, sounding more like a demand than a request. Reaching under the bed, he retrieves a portable oxygen tank to assist Braden with his breathing. Quickly transferring Braden’s tubing to the portable tank, I place it at the end of the bed near his feet. With the sound of Katherine unlocking the brakes on the wheels of his bed, we begin to push him towards the door. Aidan takes the lead, checking to ensure the hallway is empty. Issuing a curt nod before he rushes down the hallway to summon the service elevator, we follow briskly behind him. The bed begins to pick up speed, making it there just when the doors open. Seconds later, we’re enclosed inside the service elevator and begin our ascent up to the helipad level.

  With a ping, the elevator notifies us we have arrived. The doors glide open with a swoosh and the brisk cold air hits us all, but I’ve prepared Braden for this trip with extra blankets I placed on him minutes before retrieving Katherine and Aidan.

  “Over here,” I say, pointing my chin to the west. I’ve done my research and know it will be the best view for him. God forbid there will be an actual emergency and the helipad will need to be put to use. We’d be done for. It’s a risk, but one worth taking. Bringing the bed to a halt, I look down at my watch, knowing we made it right on time.

  Turning to face the reason for all this, I ask, “You ready?” with a wag of my brows for good measure before looking up towards the heavens with him as the first meteor shoots through the sky.

  The sound of his faint gasp has me peering back down to him. Braden’s eyes have lit up as bright as the stars above us as his lips curl into the widest smile I’ve seen him deliver this last week. His chest is rapidly rising and falling, most likely from the excitement coursing inside of him.

  Looking back up to the sky to take in the view, I am mesmerized by the display. “It’s so amazing,” Braden whispers faintly—three simple words that mean the world to me. “Thank you,” he rasps out seconds later.

  Leaning down, I whisper back to him, “You’re welcome, buddy,” unable to hold back the tear now cascading down my cheek. “Always remember, no matter what happens you reach for the stars.”

  The sound of a sniffle draws my attention to the other side of his bed. Meeting the eyes of his mother, she silently mouths
“Thank you.” I can only respond with a smile because there is no possible way for me to speak. My emotions have obstructed my vocal cords and my heart is a heavy muscle lodged in the center of my chest, slowly shattering with knowing why I’ve risked giving Braden his final wish.

  “Lexie?”

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  He sucks in a deep breath before saying, “Do you think there are stars in heaven?”

  “Of course there are. There is anything your little heart desires.”

  “Even my hot fudge sundaes?” His question causes me to lightly laugh. Of course he asks about his favorite dessert that he has been craving for the past month.

  “Even your hot fudge sundaes,” I reply. “Before you know it, you’ll be having a stomach ache from eating too much sugar.”

  This causes his mother to whimper as she struggles against surrendering to the breaking point. She’s always fought to not break down in front of Braden. She doesn’t want him to see how upset this entire situation makes her.

  He brightens from the response, his eyes returning to the show above us. The entire time my view is locked on the little angel in front of me, knowing everything I’ve done tonight to make this possible is still not enough for him. He deserves more. He deserves a lifetime worth of years to gaze up at the stars, not borrowed hours as we wait, wondering when the end will come.

  Unfortunately, the wait wasn’t long. Braden took his last breath two days later. I was at his side, holding his mother’s hand when he gave his last smile before closing his eyes for the final time. He took a piece of my heart with him at that very moment, but they all have.

  As I remove the glow in the dark stars I’d placed around the room to lift his spirits, my heart returns to a hardened muscle, worsening with every patient I lose. The stars were supposed to represent hope towards a recovery, not a battle lost.

  Every night when my shift started, I would add another star for Braden to gaze at as he fought to break free of the prison his disease had put him in. Near the end, the stars no longer held their joyful meaning; they had slowly turned into a reminder of the days he would have left.

  Each child, as many before him, came through those doors of the pediatric oncology wing with hope in their little hearts, believing they would win the battle against the traitor they had inside of them. Many have gone home, free of the monster they had come with. But others, like Braden, were less fortunate.

  Why does fate have to be so cruel? Why do children have to suffer? But most of all, why does cancer have to be a soul taking asshole sometimes, taking the lives of those battling so hard to fight it? I will never have the answer, but because of never having the answer, I will never give up hope that one day I will no longer have to grant these last wishes.

  It’s because of those young souls that I will keep doing everything in my power to help them fight the asshole that is cancer. Every smile I receive in return is the reason why I love my job so much. I know what it’s like to have hope, and I also know what it’s like to be that family member that loses the battle. But I refuse to give up. If one final wish is what they want before their bright light extinguishes, then one final wish is what I’ll give them, regardless of what I have to do to make it happen.

  Eleven years earlier…

  I’M NEAR. THE SOUND of her giggling leads me straight to her. It feels as if I haven’t heard that sound in eons, but it’s the cause of my own. There have rarely been reasons to giggle, smile, or be happy in a while. My parents had tried keeping Dani’s condition a secret from me at first, but I knew. How could I not? We share the same blood. At one point, we shared the same womb. We were inseparable until last year. Since then, all we ever get are stolen moments from my parents, who fear if she doesn’t rest, she’ll get worse.

  My eyes strain to make out the view in front of me, the glow of the bright stars above is the only light illuminating my path.

  “Dani…where are you?” I draw out, knowing it will make her laugh. As expected, the sound of her suppressed giggle is loud and clear, and on my right. Rushing over to the large tree I know she’s hiding behind, I step around it, jumping to land right in front of her.

  “Caught you.” She lets out a startled gasp, making me laugh before her shoulders drop in defeat.

  “Ah, not fair. You always find me right away,” she whines.

  Smiling with triumph, I explain, “If you’d learn to be quieter, I wouldn’t find you so quickly.”

  Her exhausted, hazel eyes roll at my response. “You’ve always been the sneakier one of us. I swear, it’s what keeps you out of trouble.” We both laugh because it’s true. I’ve always been the sneakier one, but Dani is always one step behind me, causing trouble. Well, until last year when she started getting sick.

  She shoves at my shoulder. “That’s not nice. You scared the bajebies out of me!” she angrily exclaims. “How in the world do you always find me so quick?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “Intuition,” then decide to tease her. “Plus, you suck at being discreet.”

  I’m already turning to walk away when I hear her let out a whimper. With worry, I spin around to face her, a thousand different possibilities coursing through my mind. Most importantly, the guilt of knowing she shouldn’t be out here.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Due to the darkness, I can’t read her expression, but from the sound of her response, I know she’s in pain. Plus, I feel it. I always feel her pain.

  “I cut myself on the tree,” she claims, holding out her hand. The faint glow from the moonlight shows me the blood spreading in the center of her palm.

  Reaching for her hand, I try to get a better look. “Is it deep?” I ask, fearful of the infection it may cause if it is.

  “I can’t tell, but I know for sure it’ll leave a scar. I always end up with them,” she complains.

  “I’m sorry, Dani.”

  She shrugs her shoulders with indifference. “What does it matter, anyway? It won’t be the last. Just be thankful you don’t have as many.” No sooner do the words leave her mouth, she’s just as quickly adding, “I’m sorry, Lexie.”

  Both the words and the realization of how correct she is make my heart shatter in guilt. I hate that she feels this way. Without hesitating, I yank a piece of splintered bark from the tree and dig the point into the center of my palm. The contact of the sharp object slicing open my skin as I pull down shoots a radiating pain straight up my arm. A throbbing in my hand soon follows. Locking eyes with my twin, I tell her, “There, now we’ll have the exact same scar.”

  I can make out her lips trembling as she responds, “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  As if understanding why I did it, she says, “I love you,” as she hugs me. “Thank you,” she whispers into my ear.

  A moment of silence lingers between us before I notice her take in a deep breath. Normally one would think it’s out of sorrow, but these breaths are from exhaustion. Our bond has me feeling it. Pulling back, I tell her, “Why don’t we call it even and get you back into bed?” The suggestion is for her benefit, but her disappointed eyes break my heart. She’s recognized my pity and gets mad.

  “Stop doing that! You promised you wouldn’t be like them,” she declares.

  I did promise.

  “You’re right,” I admit. “I’m sorry, but you look tired.”

  Her pinched lips and glaring eyes remain for another second before her shoulders drop. “I’m not,” she replies, which is a complete lie. She can’t fool me. “I just want to feel normal again, Lexie.”

  “I understand,” I answer too quickly.

  She doesn’t seem too convinced. “Do you?”

  Remaining silent so I don’t have to lie, I have to remember I’m not the one who is sick, even though I feel her pain. If I could trade places with her, I would. All our lives we’ve shared everything. Yet, this is the one thing we cannot share. Fate has other plans and has decided it was Dani who will suffe
r this disease, not me. I’ve spent countless nights wishing it were I in her place, but not all wishes come true.

  As if reading my thoughts, her hand reaches out to take mine. “No matter what happens, Lexie, we’ll always be sisters.” I have to force myself to hold back the tears wanting to emerge. “Until the end,” she finishes.

  The end.

  Two powerful words, since she is nearing it sooner than me. I know. I feel it in the depths of my soul. Every day that passes the telltale signs become more evident. I’ve begged, pleaded, screamed at my parents to do something, but their only answer is “They’re trying.” They have pursued every medical opinion they can for Dani, but nobody seems to have the answer. There is nothing more we can do. Now it is only a matter of how much longer she has. Yet another unsolved question.

  Until then, all I can do is grant her remaining requests…because I love her.

  “Want to stare up at the stars?” I ask, knowing there is no way she can resist.

  “Is this your way of making me rest?”

  “Maybe?”

  “Okay, but only if you let me keep all the shooting stars.”

  “Deal.” How can I argue? She needs them more than I do.

  Slowly walking at her side—because I know how she hates being reminded that she is weak when you try to assist her—I match her steps, just in case she needs me. Mere yards away, she stops before lowering herself down to lie flat on the ground. Lying to her side, we both stare up at the sky full of stars.

  “How to you feel?” I brave to ask.

  “Tired, but happy,” she says and sighs. “I’ve missed this,” she whispers, reminding me of all the times as we were growing up when we sneaked out in the middle of the night to gaze up at the stars.

  “I’ve missed this, too,” I reply, holding back my tears once again.

  The throbbing in my hand reminds me of what I did. Lifting my hand up, I peer at it, finding a large wound now clotting with dried blood. Dani holds up her own hand so our injured palms are side-by-side.

  “Promise me you’ll always remember tonight.”