"Pull over..." she mumbled quietly from the seat next to him, barely loud enough for him to hear.

"Hmm?" he asked, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead of him as he leaned forward and changed the radio station.

"Nick PULL OVER!" Her voice was urgent now and this time he took note.

"Why do you want me to... OH SHIT!" Nick veered the car quickly to the shoulder of the road as the cars flew past them. They hadn't even come to a complete stop before she flung the door open. The chokes of dry heaving filled the air, followed soon after by the sound of vomit splattering upon the pavement.

Nick's eyes flew open as he gasped, the sounds echoing in his ears, the smell of it still strong in his nose. It took him several long moments to realize he'd only been dreaming.

Only dreaming.

It had been so very real... felt so very real. He had been back in that moment again. Back on the side of that road a few weeks ago, his heart racing, his mind panicked. He could almost feel the bile rising in his own throat just the way it had that day after seeing her so sick on the side of the road.

Yeah. How he wished this was all only a dream.

He had been able to do nothing but sit there in the seat beside her that afternoon and try his best to comfort her through the worst of it. He had rubbed her back and held her hair and told her he was there for her as he tried to reassure her that everything was going to be okay. But the fact was, in those few minutes on the side of that road, he couldn't even convince himself that everything would be okay.

At one point she gasped for air in between wretches, crying out for Nick to make it stop... to just kill her. She asked why God had done this to her.. just, why?

It was a question he had no answer for and a question he'd asked a million times himself.

And he also found himself asking the questions "why him?" that day as she vomitted for probably the 8th or 9th time in the span of only 15 minutes. Why did God do this to him? Why did God choose this girl for him to fall madly in love with only to have her get sick and him not feel like he was strong enough to get through it with her.

In that moment though, a peace had washed over him and he'd found himself taking calm, deep breathes as he ran through in his mind all of the times in his life he'd been terrified of something. Of going on stage to perform in front of millions of fans, of getting on airplanes to fly halfway across the world... and he reminded himself that no matter how hard each of those things had seemed at the time - impossible even - he'd always seemed to somehow make it through... every single time.

With those feelings fresh in his mind he pulled himself together and continued to comfort her until the worst was over before he reached into the back seat and retrieved the emesis basin the hospital had given them (for good reason obviously) and laid it gently in her lap, unsure of how well it would work, but trying to reassure her again that she would be okay... that he would get her home to bed as quickly as he possibly could.

He drove fast that day, disregarding speed limits and doing California rolls at stop signs and though they did have to stop twice more for her to be sick and it took them an extra 25 minutes to get home, they finally made it. And he had managed to comfort her each time they stopped despite his own overwhelming urge to lean out the side of the car and vomit upon the roadway.

When they'd finally reached her parent's house and he'd gotten her safely tucked into bed surrounded by comfortable blankets and basins, Nick slunk to the bathroom, curled up into a ball on the floor of the shower and cried hot bitter salty tears as the water poured down upon him. He'd really, truly doubted his ability to make it through this with her...

And yet, he had.

That had been the first of the three chemotherapy treatments she'd undergone. The three leading up to her surgery... many more they were certain would follow. Each was worse than the one before... but at the same time better, in its own way. The vomitting was worse, the pain was worse, but by the third treatment at least they were both a little more prepared. Nick still hated it... all of it, and of course Grace did too. But he knew in his heart that the cross she had to bare was far more burdening.

With each treatment he watched the woman he loved, once so full of life and energy, love and happiness, slowly slip away. Over the past several weeks he had found himself laying in bed at night just watching her sleep. He found that this was the one time he could look at her and pretend she was still the same Gracie he'd always known. During the day her eyes showed a pain and agony and sorrow that somehow disappeared while she slept. In sleep she looked peaceful and carefree.

And that's how he pictured her this night as he lay in bed drifting back to sleep.

"If I can go through that with her," he told himself, "then I can go through anything."