“It’s fine. I mean, I’m fine now. It was acute lymphoid leukemia. It has a high survival rate, one of the less aggressive forms of the disease. But I still have to get tested every year, to make sure it hasn’t come back.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Are you okay? Did it come back?” Is that why he was panicking? That was six months ago.

Holy shit, is he dying?

“I’m okay. I’m fine. But it’s always there, you know, in the back of my mind. Will it come back?”

“How did I not know about this?”

“It’s not something I share with anyone except my closest friends. And I was a minor, so it’s not like it’s public knowledge.”

I’m still absorbing the fact he shared something so personal with me, something he hardly tells anyone, when he keeps talking.

“No one is digging up my dirt much to care at this point. Besides, I didn’t want to use my cancer story to succeed. I wanted to do that on my own merits, you know? But every time I go and get tested—like I did that morning—I freak out a bit. And my point is, I guess, I understand what it’s like to feel out of control of your body, and it’s nothing that makes you any less worthy than anyone else. If anything, it makes you stronger.”

I shake my head. “Freaking out over cancer is normal, expected. I never had cancer. I have no reason to be afraid all the time. You do so many things without fear. You came into Blue Wave that first day, and even after the hallway incident, you walked in there and told all of us all about your failures. Total strangers, you just admitted all your mistakes like it was nothing. And in there,” I tilt my head in the direction of the Saloon, “on stage. I could never do that.”

“Sure you could.”

I give a short laugh. “You act like you’ve never seen me present in meetings.”

“Everyone gets nervous in front of a crowd. Including me. You hate talking in front of people, and you don’t like being the center of attention, but the important part is that you do it anyway. We have that in common. You think it makes you weak, but I think it makes you strong.”

If only he knew how long it took me to even brave this conversation. “I can’t believe you get nervous in front of a crowd. You do it with a lot more finesse and a lot less sweating.” I grimace.

He laughs and steps closer. “How’s the sweating right now? Is it okay?”

I shake my head. “It’s dubious at best. Subject to change at a moment’s notice.”