Page 118 of Second Chance Saloon

Jackie went on to explain about something called the number of something repeats, but Mitch wasn’t registering the finer details, until she told him her own genetic test results.

“What does reduced penetrance of a gene mean?” he asked, dreading the answer but waiting for it with bated breath all the same. He should’ve probably known the answer, maybe there had been some class on genetics and inheritance pattern in vet school; in fact, he was sure there was. But right now, all his knowledge had escaped to the furthest corners of his mind.

Jackie gave him a sad smile, adjusting her clasped hands underneath her pillow. “I might or might not develop the symptoms. No one knows, no one will ever know for sure. If I develop them, it might be much later than Weronika did. Or they might not be as severe. Either way, I could pass on a full gene, like Weronika’s.”

“I wish you’d told me.” His voice soaked with a pain he hadn’t known he could ever feel. “I could’ve been there for you. I can’t even imagine how you must’ve felt going through it all alone.”

Her eyes pinned him with a fathomless stare. “I didn’t plan to run. I thought I would tell you, eventually, after I got the results. Then that last night, at the bonfire, when I saw you holding Rose … and when we talked about having children later … that was the last straw. I panicked and did the only thing I could think of: run like a coward.” She shook her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Mitch inhaled, hoping that drawing more air into his lungs would somehow stitch together his heart, which was breaking at an alarming rate as Jackie continued her tale.

“I went to see her, you know?” she whispered, not looking at him. “At first, I went to Paris. I don’t even remember why. I think, in my mind, it was this magical city where everything was possible. I thought it could help me figure shit out. But I’ve never felt more alone than during those four months of being surrounded by thousands of people and not knowing anyone.

“One night, I called my mom. I hadn’t really been in touch with either her or Dad after receiving the diagnosis, and they respected that I needed time. But that night I cracked. I was missing you so much, but also everyone else from the ranch, and Lyla and Nick … I didn’t even say anything, just broke down crying.” Jackie sniffed, a soft smile on her lips. “She was on the next flight to Paris.”

Mitch smiled at her. This sounded so much like Sharon. He knew Fred would’ve done the same if he had been the one Jackie had called. “I’m glad you’ve always had them.”

Jackie blinked, her gaze finding his. “I don’t know if I could’ve done this without them. At first, I was so angry at Dad. He’s worked hard to regain my trust over the years. We made up, eventually. He invested a lot of money into Huntington’s research over the past decade, anonymously, wanting to shield me, I suppose.” She let out a soft sigh. “Mom brought another letter with her. I hadn’t read any of the previous ones; I burned most of them, in fact, but this one, I read by the Seine. It wasn’t from Weronika; it was from her niece.” Her forehead creased. “My cousin, I guess. Anyway, not important. Weronika was getting worse and if I wanted to see her that was the last chance.

“Mom went with me. I’m not even sure what I wanted to get out of seeing her. I guess I thought it might’ve been a kindness. Or maybe I wanted to torture myself, because I saw how devastating this disease is.

“I didn’t go back to Paris after that. I decided to travel, see as much of the world as I could. First stop was Belgium and then … well, everywhere else.” She sighed.

Her fingers tangled into her hair, pulling at the ends. “This is why I cut my hair, too. When I saw Weronika, she looked just like me. Or should I say, I looked just like her. I thought, in some weird way, that if I cut my hair, make myself resemble her less, then maybe I wouldn’t get her disease. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

“Jackie,” Mitch uttered, finding her hand and lacing their fingers together. He wished he could anchor her, help her through these feelings somehow. “I don’t know what to say.”

Tears lined her eyelids. She tore her gaze from his, staring at the ceiling. “I wanted to fix things, when I came back for your graduation, but you seemed happy and I realized that even if I wanted to face living with the uncertainty, I couldn’t do that to you. I also saw that you could move on … I wanted that happiness so much for you.”

“I wish I knew.”

Her head whipped toward him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and soaking into the white sheets. “Why? Because you would’ve stayed with me.”

Her voice was so raw, it fractured his heart in half.

“Of course I’d have stayed. I would’ve done anything for you. Imagining how alone you must’ve been, how hurt …” He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I can’t bear it.”

“That’s why I left. I knew you wouldn’t leave me, and I needed to hope you would be happy. Some days were so dark that the thought of that alone was what got me out of bed.”

She didn’t withdraw her hand. Mitch squeezed it—once, twice; his skin tingled at the contact with hers. It was slightly warmer than it had been at the start of the conversation.

“You said your father has invested lots of money in Huntington’s research? Surely, over the last ten years medicine has moved on,” he said.

Jackie sniffed. “There was recently lots of buzz around a new gene therapy, the first one to successfully treat it. But it’s all so early on and … who knows what’s going to happen.”

“You might never need treatment. You might never have it … You said it yourself.”

Their gazes joined in an implacable lock.

“You can’t predict the future. Who knows what’s going to happen? I might die of a heart attack by the time I’m forty. Or one of us might have cancer. Or get into a stupid accident. I could’ve died when I smashed into that wall. But I didn’t.” Mitch drew a deep breath, his eyes not leaving her face. “You can’t let the fear of something that might never happen stop you from living your life.”

She scoffed, wiping away her free-flowing tears with the back of her free hand. “That’s what my parents always say.”

“They’re right. Hell, judging from the way the world’s going, who knows if we’re even going to be here in twenty years’ time.” His throat constricted, blades of fear slashing through. He breathed through it, steeling himself.

Jackie inched closer to him, pulling her tear-streaked pillow with her. “At first, I was so scared I had it. That I would be one of the unlucky people in this gray category—that’s what they called it—who would develop it. Then, as the years went by, my fear shifted. Because what if I wouldn’t ever get symptoms and I threw away the best years of my life, threw away everything for— no-nothing?” Tears garbled her words, and she pressed her face into the pillow.

Mitch’s heart cracked wide open.