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I blow out a steady stream of air, needing to focus on this process one step at a time. If I don’t, I’ll freak out. Even though I told him he didn’t need to accompany me, I couldn’t be more grateful for his presence. Mom certainly wasn’t going to do it. She’s pissed that I’m even going through with the testing.
Asher holds open the glass door as we head inside the transplant center and check in at the front desk. After receiving visitor stickers, we’re directed to a bank of elevators to take to the second floor, where we’ll meet with the coordinator who will walk us through the process.
In the quiet of the corridor, my Chucks squeak against the linoleum floor. With my hand tightly clenched in his, he reaches out to stab the button. Once the doors open, we step inside the elevator and wait for the car to rise to the second floor. My chest continues to tighten as a burst of nerves scampers down my spine when the door slides open, and we step into the hallway.
He meets my gaze, scouring it as if trying to pick through my private thoughts. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” he says softly. “No one would blame you for not going through with this.”
It takes effort to gulp down my nerves as I straighten my shoulders. “I won’t change my mind. I just want to get it over with.”
There’s no way I could live with myself if I didn’t at least get tested.
“Okay.” He tugs on my fingers, pulling me to him before wrapping his arms around my body and holding me close. It’s all I can do to stop myself from melting into his warm embrace. There is so much comforting strength to be found in his arms. More than I ever imagined possible. In that moment, I realize how much I need it. Maybe I’ve become a master at projecting outward strength, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t need someone to lean on every once in a while.
How is it possible that Asher has stepped up and become that person?
He drops a kiss on the top of my head before setting me free. A few minutes later, we find the office. I get one step over the threshold before stumbling to a halt when I find Tony, Charlotte, and Kylie already settled in the waiting room.
I wasn’t expecting to see them today.
Especially here.
Tony rises from his chair. “Kylie had an appointment this morning, so we thought we’d stick around for yours.”
Asher’s hands settle on my shoulders, the firm pressure an instant reminder that I’m not alone. He’s here, standing beside me. And that makes all the difference in the world.
I rack my brain for something to say but come up empty. What I refuse to do is pretend that we’re one big, happy family. This man might have been present at the time of procreation, and stuck around until I was six years old, but then he disappeared from my life, leaving me to fend for myself with a mother who could barely take care of herself most days.
Honestly, it’s a wonder I don’t have daddy issues.
I give Asher a bit of side-eye as the other night crashes through my head. The way he took control, commanded me to let go, and then spanked my ass.
Huh. Maybe I spoke too soon.
I shake the errant thought away and point to the front desk. “I should probably check in.”
It’s a relief to turn my back to them as I give the receptionist my name and she hands over a ream of paperwork. Once it’s been completed, I turn in the clipboard and take a seat next to Asher. From beneath the thick fringe of my lashes, I can’t help but study Kylie.
She looks tired. Pale. There are dark smudges under her eyes and her body seems too thin. I didn’t get a chance to meet her before the diagnosis, so I’m unsure how drastic a change there has been in her appearance.
What I can say is that she doesn’t look like a normal, healthy sixteen-year-old. My mind tumbles back to the dinner at their house. The difference in energy levels from her younger brother had been significant. I can’t imagine being her age and facing this kind of medical crisis.
Tony sits next to her while her mother flanks the other side, petting her hair. They couldn’t hover over her anymore if they tried.
A long stretch of uncomfortable minutes slide by before Charlotte meets my gaze. “You must be excited for the fall semester to end.”
It doesn’t escape me that this is the kind of polite, surface-level conversation strangers engage in. No matter what blood ties I have to this family, that’s exactly what we are.
Strangers.
“Yes,” I say with a nod. “Just a couple weeks to go.”
