I had a feeling my parents and I were bound to have different definitions of “good to go.”

“He said you could start today, if you want. I really think that’s best,” my mother says as we all stroll through the parking lot. I nod in agreement. Steroids make me sick to my stomach and turn my face red and puffy, like an Oompa Loompa. So Ty should get to see that during the week he’s here. Awesome.

The medical center is the next parking lot over, and I really wasn’t up for having the posse follow me to my next stop. “Mom, why don’t you and Paige head home? Dad can take Ty and me,” I suggest, hoping she gives me this. Please, just give me this.

“Oh, there’s a really cute store that just opened up at the strip mall down the road. Great jewelry. Let’s go; we can meet them after for lunch,” Paige says, tugging on my mom’s sleeve. Her eyes meet mine for a brief second. I may be imagining it, but I think she’s doing me a favor.

“Well…” my mom says, swinging her keys back and forth between my sister and me. I think she’s actually saying “eeny, meeny, miny, moe” in her head. “I guess you know what you’re doing, Cass. You’ve done these before. And we can all meet up after?”

“Sounds good,” I say, tugging on my dad’s arm, dragging him to his car. I’m not giving her a chance to flop on this decision.

“Subtle, Cassidy,” my dad says as he pushes the UNLOCK button and waits for Ty at the side of the vehicle to take his chair for him. I notice my father’s gaze fall to Ty as he lifts himself to the edge of the seat, his arms fully flexed as he swings his body inside. It’s a move that Ty somehow makes look effortless even though there are about a hundred moving parts in his body doing the work. My dad doesn’t stare, but he notices. And I notice that.

My dad pulls up front and drops me off with Ty so we don’t have to travel far while he parks. I sign in and say hello to the nurse working at the station. Her name is Heather, and I remember her without having to check her tag.

“Come on back, Cass. Dr. Peeples sent your files over. It’s a slow time, so might as well get this over with, huh?” I always liked Heather. She was newly engaged the last time I went through this therapy. I see now that she has a band next to the engagement ring, and her belly looks about seven months pregnant.

“This is new,” I say, looking down, and she laughs lightly, rubbing her hand over her large belly.

“Yeah, and I’m about ready to be done with this part,” she says, turning her focus back to my file. “I’ll have this ready to go in about ten minutes,” she says, giving my shoulder a squeeze before she leaves the room to get my dosage. It’s amazing how much of this I remember. It’s like riding a bike, though nothing at all like riding a bike, I muse to myself.

“Wow, you’re like famous here. I bet they have a picture of you. No! A shrine,” Ty says, moving to face me and bumping me with his knees. He can’t feel our touch, but I can.

“You must have missed the sign. We’re sitting in the Cassidy Owens wing,” I say.

“No shit!” Ty says, reaching for my hands. His watch slides forward out of my sweatshirt when I reach to grip him, and he flips his eyes to mine when he notices. No words, just a tender smile, his eyes saying everything that needs to be said.

“Okay, let’s get you hooked up,” Heather says as she comes back into the room with my drip bag ready to hang and a needle ready to pierce my vein.

“Do you mind waiting for my dad in the hall, just so he knows what room I’m in?” I ask Ty while Heather connects the various tubes and begins prepping the IV for my arm.

“You got it, babe,” he says, and I scowl at him for the babe part. “Too late, you’ve already given me babe permission. No going back.”

“Uhm, I’m pretty sure I only okayed baby,” I say.

“You missed the fine print, babe. I get Baby, and ALL derivatives. It’s locked in,” he says, his voice fading as the door closes behind him.

“He’s new,” Heather says, a little gleam in her eye. She knows better than to tease me. She and I talked a lot when I went through this in high school. Teasing was always off the table, because well…boys were always off the table.

“He is,” I say back, unable to help the grin that spreads the width of my face—teeth show and everything.

“I like that boy. You did good, missy. Real good,” she says, nodding for me to turn and face the window. I’m a fainter. “Now this will only hurt for a second.”