Page 118 of I’m Already Gone

Just breathe, Ethan. Just breathe.

The door whooshes open, and a nurse steps out. She scans the room, her gaze settling on Lily.

“Hi, Lily. The doctor is ready for you,” she says.

The nurse smiles. Okay, that’s a good sign, right? You don’t smile when there’s bad news. A tiny, desperate spark of hope flickers in my chest. Maybe she read the results, and Lily is all in the clear.

I reach for Lily’s hand, lacing my fingers through hers, and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her grip is surprisingly firm as she squeezes back, a silent exchange that could be meant to steady me, or perhaps herself.

We rise to our feet and follow the nurse through the open doorway.

“How are you feeling, Lily?” the nurse asks as we trail behind her down the brightly lit hallway.

“I’m good,” she murmurs.

“Go ahead and step on the scale to get your weight,” the nurse instructs Lily when we reach a digital scale tucked into an alcove.

I release Lily’s hand, my fingers tingling from the sudden absence of her warmth, as she steps onto the cold metal plate. The numbers flash, then settle.

100 pounds.

My stomach clenches.

I run my hands down my face, dragging them over my head. Nerves coil and burn inside me that make me want to crawl out of my own skin.

“You okay?” Lily asks. I glance down, meeting her gaze. Her brow furrows with concern, her eyes searching mine.

I force a smile. “Yeah. You?” I ask, rubbing her back gently, trying to convey a steadiness I do not feel.

She manages a small, tight smile in return.

Yep. She’s freaking out, too. The thought sends a fresh wave of unease through me.

“Follow me,” the nurse prompts, and we resume our silent procession, turning a corner and heading into room number four.

The nurse takes Lily’s vitals—blood pressure, temperature, and pulse. She asks a few basic questions about how Lily has been feeling, her sleep, and her appetite, then offers a polite smile and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

Lily sinks into one of the two chairs, and I pull the other close, settling beside her. I take her hand again, holding on tight. “Positive thoughts only, Lily,” I whisper, leaning closer. “Whatever happens, I’ll never leave your side, okay?”

She nods and offers me a warm, fragile smile. I lean in and kiss her on the lips.

My mouth lingers for a moment, savoring the softness, before pulling away.

A knock echoes on the door. The door opens, and the doctor steps into the room, her expression unreadable.

“Hi, Lily.” Her gaze shifts to me. “Hi Ethan. It’s good to see you here.”

“Hello, doctor,” I reply.

She walks in, closing the door with a quiet click, and moves toward the sink. She washes her hands, the sound of the running water filling the sudden silence, then pulls a paper towel from the dispenser. She tosses it into the small trash can and walks over to the rolling chair. My eyes are fixed on the file clutched in her hands. She sits down, the file resting on her lap.

“How have you been feeling, Lily?” she asks, her voice gentle, but with an underlying gravity that makes my stomach drop.

“Fine,” Lily replies. “I haven’t been sick much since the last treatment.”

“That’s good,” the doctor says. She crosses her legs, her gaze sweeping between us, then settling on Lily. “After running the latest tests, I’m afraid I don’t have better news.”

And just like that, the ground opens up and swallows me whole. My breath hitches. The air in the room suddenly feels thick, suffocating.