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“No. Get over yourself. Why would that upset me?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Feeling defensive, I blurted, “Why would I care how you feel about someone? I don’t like you that way.”
Big. Mistake. But it was too late to take it back. My words almost immediately bit me in the ass.
“You seem to like me a fuck of a lot when you’re drunk,” he quipped.
Shit. I don’t like where this conversation is going. “We were both drunk, Declan. If I remember correctly, you were the one who suggested I show you my tattoo in return for you showing me yours.”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he leaned in so I could feel his breath on my face. “Funny how we were both supposedly so drunk, yet we remember our actions clearly.”
My phone rang, interrupting the tense exchange. Relief washed over me—until my heart sank.
It’s Kayla, my dad’s wife. She never called.
CHAPTER 14
* * *
Declan
“How is everything?” I jumped out of my seat in the waiting room the minute Molly walked through the double doors.
She sighed. “He’s okay. They think he passed out because he’s become anemic. It’s a common side effect of the chemotherapy. The initial bloodwork is back, but they’re going to admit him so they can run some more tests. He also has a pretty bad bump on his head from when he hit the table as he went down. So they’re treating him with concussion protocol, to be safe.”
I raked a hand through my hair. “Okay. That all sounds treatable, right?”
Molly nodded. “Yeah. The anemia is treatable. They’re starting a blood transfusion now, and he’ll go on a regimen of iron pills for a while.” She shook her head. “He just looks so fragile already. It’s only been a little over a month since his diagnosis, and a couple of weeks since I last saw him, yet I can see how fast things are progressing. He’s lost a lot of weight, his skin is sallow, and he looks exhausted. Kayla said he’s been talking about stopping the chemo already.”
“Because of this? Can’t he start again once they get him better?”
Molly was silent for a moment. I watched her face as she swallowed, trying to fight back tears. “He has small-cell carcinoma. It’s metastasized to other organs already, so the survival rate is…” She again tried to swallow and keep the threatening tears at bay. But one giant drop spilled over and ran down her cheek. “His quality of life from the chemo…”
“Come here.” I pulled her against my chest and wrapped her in my arms. Stroking her hair, I wanted to say something, but the sound of her falling apart clogged the words in my throat. Her shoulders shook as she succumbed to her emotions with an aching wail. I hated that all I could do was squeeze her tighter and wish I could take away her pain.
After about ten minutes of standing in the middle of the waiting room, Molly pulled back, wiping her eyes and sniffling.
“Thank you, Declan.”
“For nothing. I’m happy to be here for you.” I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “What happens now? If they’re admitting him, he’ll need some clothes, right? There’s a twenty-four-hour Walmart about fifteen minutes from here. I can run over and get him some pajamas and toiletries and stuff.”
“That’s very sweet of you to offer. But I told Kayla I’d go to their house and get some of his things so he can be more comfortable. It’ll be at least an hour or two before they move him into a room, and they don’t like more than one person at a time in the emergency room with a patient, anyway. No one said anything because I’m friends with a few of the nurses, but I don’t want to take advantage since I work here. I’ll run to his house while they’re admitting him, now that I know he’s stable. But it’s late. I can drop you off at home on my way.”
Like hell was I letting her drive around the city alone in her current state. “I’m coming with you.”
“I’m probably going to be here all night after I go get his clothes.”
I winked, trying to lighten things up a bit. “It’s okay. Going all night is my specialty.”
She rolled her eyes, but I saw the smile in them. A few minutes later, we were back in the car. Molly’s father’s house was a forty-minute drive from the hospital. He’d been at a restaurant when he’d passed out on his way back from the men’s room. I’d been to his house for dinner a few weeks ago, but I’d only seen the downstairs, not the bedrooms, which were tucked away on the second floor. When we arrived, I offered to wait in the living room while Molly went up to pack him a bag, but she asked me to come with her. Apparently, she’d only ever been in his bedroom once, years ago, when he’d first bought the place.
