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He’d taught me how to be loved.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ares
“Ares, it’s time. We need to take action before this thing starts to get away from us.”
I stared out the window of the local hospital. Queenstown Village had fresh snow. It was nothing like it’d been during the holidays. After my family and I had gotten back from South Carolina, I’d thought my nuts would freeze off in my hometown. No, the snow here back on campus wasn’t like it was there. It was better, light.
It was still snow, though. It was cold, and the air was extremely bitter. It was like the world was just dying all around me, and in a way, it was. It was dead during the winter, but it would always come back.
Dr. Easton sat in front of me. He normally operated out of Johns Hopkins, but when he saw me in person, he came to the local hospital. He arrived a couple months ago and hadn’t left. He’d been here for me. He sighed. “The clinical trial isn’t working. I’m advising we start a standard course of treatment. We need to do that before this becomes something there’s no going back from.”
But the thing was, it was working. At least, it had been. The tumor hadn’t gotten any worse. It was stable, but I guess that wasn’t the endgame. It never had been.
I wet my lips. “A standard course of treatment?”
“Chemotherapy.”
It was like a curse word to me. It represented that my life was going to change, and that my world was going to change. I couldn’t hide chemo from my family.
I could hide this from my family.
“You’re going to need to make a decision.” Dr. Easton leaned forward. He was on the younger side, but I trusted him. I was sure when my grandpa had given me the referral for another doctor, he’d never thought I’d be using it as a way to keep information from my family. If he had, he wouldn’t have given me the referral.
I stared out the window. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I closed my eyes. “Fine. I will. I’ll make a decision.”
It seemed I didn’t have a choice. It was start a standard course of treatment or let this thing take me. It was something I’d barely had to battle before. It’d been so easy. A surgery, some recovery, then I was back on my feet. I’d strong-armed that shit the first time, and there hadn’t been time for the people in my life to truly be scared. I’d handled it back then. I’d beaten it.
And I’d beat it again.
My phone buzzed outside of the hospital, and I was surprised to get the text.
Bru: I’m in town. Want to get coffee?
I didn’t know why he was in town. He was supposed to be at home and taking things easy. He’d worried the fuck out of everyone back at Christmas, but I’d never been prouder of both him and our family. My parents had let Bru talk, and once he had, they embraced what he was going through just like they had me. I’d had a really dark period of my life, but my parents hadn’t freaked out back then. They’d been sad, but they had gotten me through it. They came at the situation with Bru in the same way, and Sloane and our friends had been just as supportive. My buddies had found out shortly after my family’s discussion, and we all had been there for the kid. That was what we did for each other.
Swallowing, I asked Bru why he was here, and he texted back quickly.
Bru: Sloane’s been bugging me to come visit. Says it might help since I’ve been stir-crazy lately.
The kid had been working on himself back at home, but I could imagine being back with just that and nothing else to do was making him antsy.
Bru: Saw her and the guys. They said you were at your doctor’s appointment.
I had been, so I texted that in confirmation. He restated he wanted to see me, and of course, I wanted to see him too. I started to say we could meet up, but he texted me back first.
Bru: Also came to see Fawn today. Just left seeing her actually.
I was sure he had. They were friends after all, and I was glad she had that. A friend.
My thumbs hovered over my phone. It’d been over a week since Sloane had told me Fawn caught her in her dorm’s hallway. It’d been over a week since I’d basically gotten found out, and from how it sounded, Red hadn’t been happy.
My sister had told me she’d cried.
