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Momma let's out a sniffle, and the hairs on my arms stand up. The horrible feeling that I felt eight years ago hits me hard as I rasp, "No," making her sob.
I hear some rustling before my father's voice comes through the speaker.
"Sarah darling, we need you to come to the hospital."
I let out a sob, knowing her check-up didn't go well.
It's back; I just know it is.
"Sarah, please," my father rasps, and I sit up straight, trying to take a deep breath so I don't pass out.
What am I doing? I cannot fall apart now; my parents need me to be strong. I have to be strong; they don't need me falling apart when their youngest is mostly likely...
I clear my throat, "Right, I've just finished sending off my applications; I'll be at the hospital in twenty."
"Sarah…" my dad starts, but I don't let him finish. Instead, I tell him I'll be there soon before hanging up.
I can't be a martyr; I can't focus on my hurt and pain. My family needs me to be strong.
I have to be strong.
I wipe my face with the back of my hands before getting up. I grab my phone off my desk, where I've just put it, and place it in my jeans pocket, happy that I changed out of my flowery pink dress when I got home this morning before heading downstairs. I ensure everything is locked up before leaving the house. I climb into my truck on autopilot and maneuver the vehicle toward the hospital with a lump in my throat.
Ten minutes later, I arrived at the hospital. The big white building seems to double in size the longer I sit in my truck and watch it. I need to go inside, but my fears will be confirmed if I do. I cannot be selfish, though, can I? Staying here and wanting to fall apart isn't an option; my parents need me, and Mary needs them. With a deep breath, I wipe my face, clearing the tears that had fallen before climbing out of my truck and heading inside while hoping I don't vomit.
As I walk through the doors, I don't look up; my only destination is my sister. I get past the nurse's desk as someone calls out, "Miss, can I help you?" but I ignore her before bumping into a hard body, making me gasp. I look up, and my eyes connect with dark green ones, darker than mine.
The man before me furrows his brows, "Miss, are you okay?"
I shrug, getting out of his hold on my arms. I notice the tattoo's poking out of his white coat, and I know instantly he's part of the local MC. The devil on the side of his neck is proof of that.
The man from the club comes to mind, but I quickly blink the thought away. I haven't seen him again, and funnily enough, I also haven't had sex yet, although apparently Helena has plenty. There was something about her signing up to be one of their women who screwed all the brothers after Brad ended things that went around college for a while. He's now married to a sweet California girl, and they have a little boy together.
I Guess Boldy was a good lay for Helena to take that lifestyle up.
I look at the guy's tattoo again, and he gently smiles, "I promise, I'm a doctor."
I give him another shrug, "People have tattoos." He smiles again before looking at the angry nurse, who I ignored. I clear my throat, "I don't need to speak to her," he tilts his head, and I shrug again, "I know where I need to go, or at least I think I do; I mean, this is the same as last time, so..."
His eyes show compassion, "Are you here for yourself?"
I shake my head and say, "My sister, I think she'll be in the children's ward like last time; she's fifteen."
He nods and guides me to the desk, dismissing the nurse who's looking at me with daggers and at him with eternal love. Poor man, she seems batshit crazy, and that's only from the vibe she's giving.
"Okay, what's your sister's name?"
I swallow hard, "Mary Reynolds."
His eyes come my way quickly, and I nod. He knows her; he knows what's wrong with her. My eyes tear up, a few escaping down my cheeks, and I quickly brush them away and rasp, "It's back, isn't it?"
His eyes turn sad, "I think you should speak to your parents."
I nod, "Just tell me this: before I go to where they are, can she fight it again? Can her body recover a second time?" He goes to open his mouth, but I shake my head, "No, sorry, I just, I need to know so I can prepare myself so I don't go in there and fall apart when right now, my parents' attention should be on Mary, not their 25-year-old daughter who can't keep her emotions in check. I collapsed the first time I was told. I was only seventeen; I was out with friends, dumping my then-boyfriend for screwing my so-called friend, who, by the way, works at your strip club, Shelby." His brows hit his forehead, but I can't stop rambling: "Please, I must be strong. I need to know her chances of surviving this again so I can be there for my parents."
He grips my arm, stopping my words: "Okay, first of all, Shelby is a bitch." I snort because, yeah, that's true, and I rasp, "You also have Helena, who was a frenemy and now lives at your clubhouse. She screwed the guy I was eyeing as a screw you to me because, well, it turns out her fiancé wanted someone like me as a partner; he left her when he found out she screwed the guy I actually wanted."
Damn me and my ramblings.
