I sighed, watching him go, then sipped my water again. I wanted a cigarette. The house was wiped top to bottom, the carpets cleaned. I didn’t want any residue left since Zeke was staying with me most of the time. I’d quit cold turkey and had to weather Zeke’s mood swings as well as my own emotions about his illness; my entire body screamed for one.

I grabbed a pen and chewed on it, staring at the bedroom door. I stood and walked to the bedroom. He was just putting on a pair of sweatpants.

“Hey,” I said. “Can we talk?”

He sighed. “If it’s about my heart, then no.” I made a face. He did, too. “I’m tired of talking about it, Naomi. I just want things to go back to normal.”

“We can get close if you get the treatment you need.”

He sat on the bed and leaned back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Babe. Seriously.”

“Just tell me why. Why are you so against it?”

“I just don’t want to.”

I tilted my head, feeling like his mother instead of his girlfriend. “That’s a shit answer. We’re not talking about you taking me to a chick flick, Zeke. This is your life. I want you to stick around for a long time.”

He hooked his arm over his eyes, seeming embarrassed to say his next words. “What if you don’t stick around?”

“What?” I asked, my voice higher and louder than I’d meant for it to be.

He cleared his throat. “Sometimes people leave. Sometimes they don’t wait.”

“You won’t get treatment because you think I’ll pack up before you get home?”

“It happens.”

I sighed and sat next to him, touching his knee. He’d been abandoned so many times before, I couldn’t blame him for worrying. “I’m not your mom. I’m not Becca. I swear to God, Zeke. I’ll wait for you.”

He moved his arm and locked his gaze on mine. “I’m not chancing it. Not with you.”

My hands tightened into fist. I wanted a cigarette, and I wanted to punch something. “Okay. I’ll be back, but I have to get some air,” I said, standing and turning on my heels.

Zeke sat up. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” I said, gathering my things. “McCormack’s? Maybe for a drive?”

“Don’t go,” he said, his voice small.

I pointed all four fingers at him. “You’re literally throwing a tantrum in my bed. I know everything feels like it’s crumbling around you, but you’re not even trying! Are you just going to sit around here and die?”

His face turned severe. “I’ve lost everything! My career, my future, my family, my health!”

“You have me! You still have your family; what are you talking about?”