I don't know who I love more- Cherry/Mia or all of you readers.

I can't decide, so here's a tub of icing. I'll let y'all battle it out! (Random scream from background: "Show the bewbies!")

Chapter Twenty-Six: Fear & Faith

"I'm leaving my football and baseball collection to Jasper. Tell him not to scruff 'em up and that they're in prime condition."

"Uh huh."

"Oh, and I got a stash of candy under my mattress. Give it to Emmett, but only one piece a day until they're all gone. Say to him, 'Rowdy left these for you beyond the grave.' He'll savor 'em more."

"Is that all?"

Rowdy taps his chin and I swear if he could write, he'd scribble up pages and pages for a eulogy.

"Tell Harley Gene boys are bad and to stay away from 'em."

"Rowdy," I sigh. "She's only a couple of weeks old."

"They start early," he tells me dramatically. "That nine month old baby at church was winking at her yesterday."

I'm pretty sure that poor baby had an eye infection, but okay.

I shake my head at his nonsense. "It's only two tubes. One in your arm and one in your foot. You're frettin' over nothing."

Rowdy clutches my arm in panic. "What if I bleed to death? Scoop up my blood, will ya? Keep it in a jar and every summer on this exact date, sprinkle it into the river. My memory will live on forever."

But we won't, I want to say. I'm pretty sure that's where our water comes from.

I kiss my boy's cheek and fluff his pillow on the black leather medical chair. "You'll be fine. I'll be here the whole time. Are you sure you don't want me to call Esme and Carlisle? They'll come if you want them here."

Rowdy shakes his head. "No, Mama and Pop have enough to deal with. They don't need to see this. They said they'll be by later."

Rowdy's hospital room that he'll be staying in is on the third floor, but for now we're on the first level in a small monitoring room. All this fancy machinery sitting next to him scares him out of his mind.

He told me yesterday it didn't.

Liar, liar.

We both turn our heads when we hear footsteps down the hall.

"She's coming," Rowdy whispers with fright in his eyes.

"Who?" I ask.

"The Grim Reaper…"

I try my best not to laugh, but he's making it impossible. He clutches a handful of hair, stressed out as can be. The nurse walks into the room with a smile on her face. "Edward Masen? My name's Emily and I'll be in charge of your plasma exchange therapy this week. We like to call it PLEX around here for short. Anyways, I'm sure the doctor explained everything to you earlier, but do you have any questions?"

"What's that ball there for?" he questions, pointing to the small steel table beside him. "Is that to gag me when I start choking? I throw up easily."

Nurse Emily puts her hand to her mouth and giggles quietly. "No, it's not to gag you. You have to squeeze it during the process."

"For two whole hours?" I ask in shock.

"It stops the blood from congealing." Nurse Emily looks at our confused expressions and clarifies. "Clotting."

Rowdy takes a couple of deep breaths and Nurse Emily begins the procedure. She puts a blood pressure cuff around his arm and Rowdy winces at the sound of the Velcro. "Okay, I'm going to put the needles in. There may be some discomfort, but just sit still okay?"

"I can't exactly run away," Rowdy retorts. I give him the stink eye for being so rude and he looks away. She taps his left arm several times and sticks him with a long needle. Rowdy squeezes his eyes shut as she connects and twists on a long tube. Lastly, she tapes down the needle with medical tape.

"You did well, Edward," Nurse Emily says, patting his arm. "I'm going to do your right foot next and then I'll be all done."

She does just that and Rowdy flinches and grimaces the whole time, even though he can't feel anything down there. So melodramatic.

After she adjust the lines, she props both of his arms over pillows and hands him the yellow squish ball. "This machine is called a cell separator. It's very loud, but just take deep breaths and remember to keep squeezing the ball. I'll come check on you frequently. There's a red call button right here if you need anything."

I move slightly so she can tap a few buttons on the screen and start the machine. She's right, it is noisy, but soothing too. It means Rowdy's on his way to getting healthy. Nurse Emily finally leaves and Rowdy shifts in his seat.

"What do you want to do while we wait?" I pull out a few books and magazines that I can read to him to pass the time.

Rowdy smirks, and it's the only sign of a smile I've seen since we arrived.

"I can think of a few things…"

If I could hit him right now, I would. "You're so … so…"

"Dirty?" he asks, cocking his head to the side.

"Yeah. That." I bite my lip to avoid smiling. "I'm not doing anything with you here. Whatever happened to the whole dying bit from a few minutes ago?"

"I have a lot to live for," he remarks, winking at me. "Are you sure you don't want to? It'll pass the time."

"I'm not sucking your … you-know-what!" I blush and duck my head. He makes me squirm and feel all jittery inside.

"Say it, Cotton. Cock." He teases me and I feel stupidly innocent. How I can do things but not say them is beyond me.

"I ain't saying that, Rowdy." I open a magazine, but the pictures and words blur together. He knows what he's doing and he loves every second of it.

"Cock. Cock. Cock." He says it so many times that he bursts into laughter. "Cockity-cock. Cooo-ooock."

"You're an ass."

I gasp and my hand flies to my mouth.

Rowdy's head leans back, his lips wide open and his teeth a'showin' all through his laughing fit. "I knew you had a mouth on you, girl. That's my Cottonseed!"

I can't punch him directly, but I flick his hand. "You hush! You're making me say bad things."

"Tell me you liked sucking my cock and I'll leave you alone. Promise." His eyes twinkle, full of fibs and mischief.

"No."

"I'm dying, hooked up to all of these tubes, squeezing this damn ball, and you can't even tell me the last words I want to hear before I die? Shame on you." Rowdy shakes his head, pouting as if I'm taking away a final wish.

"You're not dying."

"I've got a twenty-five percent chance of living, Cotton. The docs say I could perish any day now."

W-what? When did the doctor say this? Where was I? How come I don't know these things?

So I swallow my pride and ask for forgiveness as I admit the truth. "Okay … I, um, I loved sucking your cock."

Rowdy clicks his tongue. "Damn, that was hot baby. If I could, I'd fuck you right now."

"ROWDY!"

He laughs as I throw down my magazine in a huff. Crossing my arms, I glare at him. "The doctor never said you were dying, did he?"

"You're so gullible."

This time, I really do hit him.

.

.

.

By the time the nurse wheels Rowdy upstairs and back into his bed, he's exhausted and drained. His arm has a huge bruise on it and he complains his hand is hurting him from squeezing the ball repeatedly.

Rowdy has to sit through the sessions two more times this week and then they'll release him. Nurse Emily said they just want to monitor him throughout the next couple of days and make sure he's not experiencing any adverse symptoms.

Carlisle and Esme stop by, spending time with their son and talking to the doctor. Ma calls to make sure I'm alright and asks when I'm coming home. Esme lies and says she's spending the night, just so I can stay. We all eat gross hospital food and aimlessly watch random TV channels. Rowdy asks where Harley Gene is and Esme tells him Jasper's watching her. He frowns and I know he misses his little sister.

After Carlisle and Esme leave, Rowdy reaches out his weak arms. "Come lie with me."

I glance towards the door in worry. "Ain't the nurses gonna say something?"

"Fuck 'em. I need my baby."

So I take off my white wellies and prop them against the chair. I climb into the small bed and raise the railing on the side so I don't fall off. Rowdy lifts the blanket over us and I cuddle underneath his arm, running my fingers through his disheveled hair.

He's tired, but he's fighting like hell to stay awake. I place my cheek next to his, just to hear him breathe.

It's a beautiful sound—the kind most folks take for granted.

I treasure every one.

"Cotton?" Rowdy moves his arm slightly and I massage it, tracing my fingers over his discolorations.

"Hmm?"

"What would you do if I died?"

I don't respond, the air catching in my lungs. I don't want to talk about things like this. Death isn't a choice for him; I won't let it be.

"You're not dying," I say, repeating my words from earlier.

"No, but let's say I was," he whispers. "Would you miss me?"

"I wouldn't miss you, Rowdy, 'cause I'd die too." I know most people would call it a theatrical statement of young love, but for me it's true. I'd don't know what I'd do without him. You can't live without a heart, and he'd take mine with him.

He hums and I know it's just the sleep talking. "I've been thinking about this whole God thing. Ya know, trying to figure out why it's so important to you. I don't reckon I can I be all spiritual like you are."

"No one's expecting you to be," I reply. "I believe it 'cause … well, I just do. I reckon somebody out there is looking out for me. I like the thought of that."

"It's a good thought to have," he murmurs, yawning. "I just hope God accepts me into Heaven when I die."

I glare at him, wanting him to stop all of the depressing thoughts. "Eventually," he adds.

"He will."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But when I get to those pearly gates, I'm going to have to answer why I didn't have faith like you Baptists do."

"What are you going to say?" I ask. The dim light above the sink flickers and Rowdy closes his eyes.

"I'm going to be honest, Cottonseed. I'm going to look Jesus right in the eye and without fibbing, tell Him the truth…"

Rowdy's hand twitches momentarily as he intertwines our fingers.

"There's no way in the world I could love something else as much as I love you."