Elliot sits beside me again. “When did you find out?” he asks.
I swallow the lump in my throat, my stomach churning. “About twenty minutes ago. I came straight here.”
He studies me for a moment.
“You went on your own?” It’s a rhetorical question, of course. “So I take it Caleb and Jessica don’t know.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “No, they didn’t even know I had an appointment. I’ve not said anything to them.”
I don’t even know how I’m meant to say the words.
“What do you need? What can I do?”
I shake my head before scrubbing my palm over my face because I don’t fucking know. “Maybe not tell anyone. I know it’sasking a lot. I don’t even know why I came here,” I say, dropping my hand and looking back at him.
He reaches out for my free hand and squeezes. “Because we’re friends, and deep down, you know I will always be here for you when you need me, always.”
I nod. It’s true, and I miss that friendship. Caleb might act like a bear with a sore head, saying that we have history, but like I always tell him, Elliot was my past. Caleb and Jess are my present, my future.
“I won’t say anything, not even to Lily or the guys, but if you want my advice, you need to tell them, Noah. They’ll want to be there for you.”
He’s right. Of course, he is, but I don’t know how I’m meant to wreck their world, and the life we’re creating together. Things are finally falling into place. We’re happy, and this is going to fuck it all up.
We won’t know the severity of the cancer until my surgery. What if it spreads? What if I need treatment? What if I don’t beat it? What if it beats me?
Fuck!
Could I put Caleb and Jessica through that and make them watch? Like I watched my mum until her final moments.
“Stop it. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
I raise my brow.
“You forget I know you. You’re considering walking away from them. But you and I both know that’s not an option. They are as much an extension of you as you are of them.”
“But what if the worst should happen?” I grit out.
He scrubs his palm on his chin and sighs. “Nothing is ever guaranteed,” he says, raising his prosthetic leg. “But wouldn’t you rather be surrounded by the love of them than doing it alone? After all, if you don’t have them, who do you have to fight for?”
I swirl the amber liquid around and stare at the glass like it holds all the answers before I throw it back.
“Another?” he asks.
With a shrug, I reply, “Why not.” I watch as he pours me another measure and returns, passing it over.
I just want to forget, even for a little while.
I wake with a huge pounding in my head and blink at the light. Too fucking bright. Fuck, how much did I drink last night? I roll over, expecting to find a body beside me, but when my sight clears, I realise I’m alone and in a strange bed.
For a moment, my mind is in a daze, a fog of fuzzy memories and then, like a tidal wave, it all comes flooding back.
I groan, flopping onto my back, covering my eyes with my arm, my head splitting in two.
“Fuck.” My voice is hoarse in the quiet of the room, and I have to take a few deep, calming breaths, but it’s no use. My stomach churns, my mouth waters. Fuck, I’m going to vomit.
I’m off the bed surprisingly fast, considering how I feel, my eyes darting around the room. The open door to an ensuite bathroom has me making a beeline in that direction. I just manage to make it to the toilet in time to dispel the contents of my stomach.
By then, I’m left heaving. I’m practically hugging the toilet bowl.
