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Eyes closed, he grinned, completely satisfied with his wicked ways.
It caused a fissure of pain to slash straight across my chest until I found it nearly impossible to breathe.
But it was just so hard to believe he was dying and that our options were running thin. If some miracle didn’t happen soon, I’d lose that mischievous smirk of his forever.
I couldn’t imagine a world where he wasn’t in it.
He didn’t even look that sick. Other than the recent weight loss, deep rings forming under his eyes, and heightened rasp in his voice from the cancer in his throat, he was the same old Duke, as ornery and fiendish as ever, full of piss and vinegar.
Except everyone kept telling me lately that we were on the downward slide, and he probably wouldn’t see his twenty-third birthday, which was less than six months away.
Unable to accept that, I bit down on the inside of my lip and tapped my fingers restlessly on the steering wheel as the cancer clinic came into view.
“You’re going to take this new treatment, right?” I asked quietly. “If the test results are good enough, and the doctor recommends it, you’ll say yes?”
A tired sigh exited Duke’s lungs before he shook his head against the headrest and said, “I don’t know, man. Chemo fucking sucks. I told you I was done with that shit last time.”
“I know,” I murmured. I’d been the one to sit beside him through every round; no one knew how much it depleted him the way I did. “But this experimental dosage is supposed to be less aggressive.”
Groaning, he ground the palms of his hands into his eyes before flinging them into his lap and complaining, “I just don’t see the point. At this stage, nothing is going to save me.”
“Hey, you’ve made it two years longer than anyone thought you would,” I argued as I pulled into the parking lot. “That’s not nothing.”
“Yeah, but honestly, we’d only be extending things by a few months. If that. But probably by just weeks. How is that even worth it?”
It was worth it because I needed those few months. Or weeks. Or days. Whatever I could get, I’d take. I needed every single fucking minute he had left. And if he was too worn out to keep fighting, then I’d fight for him. I’d be his damn lungs to keep breathing if I could.
But I knew I didn’t have a say in this, and that shattered me.
“Let’s just see what the doctor has to say, okay?” I allowed, managing to keep my voice steady as I found a shady place to park.
“Or how about this?” Flinging off his seatbelt, he turned to me. “I’ll take the new medicine if you consider getting yourself laid sometime this decade.”
“If you take this medicine,” I promised, my heart leaping with hope. “I will personally ask out your hot coworker tomorrow.”
Didn’t matter how immature and stupid of a deal I thought it was, I was willing to agree to anything.
A huge grin spread across Duke’s face. “Hot, huh? How’d you know she was hot? I thought you swore you didn’t check her out.”
I rolled my eyes and then sent him a glance. “You know I checked her out.”
“Ha!” he crowed, spiking a hand into the air as he gloated. “I knew it. I knew you liked what you saw.” Then he cleared his throat, rattled out a quick cough, and turned serious. “Brother,” he told me solemnly and held out a hand to shake. “You have yourself a deal.”
Thank God.
I shook with him, even as a thrilling anxiety raced through my stomach. There was profound relief that he was willing to consider more treatment. But then thinking about pursuing a woman—especially the beautiful, squirrel-feeding, sandwich eater—filled me with dread. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d asked someone out on an actual date. I didn’t even know how it was done anymore.
Duke would guide me through it, though; I was sure. Hell, his annoying ass would probably be right there between us just as we had teased, and he’d blurt the question to her before I even could.
Smiling over that image, I felt more reassured as we walked toward the clinic. I was going to get more time with my brother because of this; I was sure of it.
Half an hour later, I growled out a livid curse and flung the handful of pamphlets that the doctor had just given me across the room as he and his nurse quietly exited, giving Duke and me time to process our newest circumstances.
“Sons of bitches,” I muttered.
I wanted to blame my brother’s tardiness on this. If only we’d gotten here ten fucking minutes earlier, this wouldn’t be happening. Or the doctors. I mean, hell. Weren’t they supposed to save lives, not announce the end of them? This was total bullshit.
