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Chapter Twenty-four
Abel
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Ican’t get the imageof Finley sitting in that wheelchair out of my head. She looked so frail, so weak, and yet every bit the beautiful woman I fell hard and fast for weeks ago.
I knew she was hiding something from me. She’s been hiding things from me since the moment we met, but I never dreamed this was it.
Hell, I still don’t even know whatthisis.
I keep running over the details in my head. The incision down the side of her head. The port in her chest. The paleness of her flesh. The way her eyes seemed to have lost some of their luster. Like the light was being snuffed out.
Considering she was being wheeled out of the cancer ward, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what all this means. And yet at the same time I can’t make sense of it.
Cancer?
She seemed perfectly fine the night we spent together. Happy. Healthy. Full of life. I would have never guessed there was something wrong with her.
Clearly she had her reasons for leaving me the way she did, with no way of contacting her, but only now am I starting to realize why.
I need answers. I need to know what the hell is going on. It’s been impossible to focus on anything but Finley since I saw her yesterday.
My poor mom had no idea what was going on, and even though I insisted everything was fine, I know she could tell something was up. But I was there for her and I didn’t want to make it about me. She’s having a hard enough time as it is and I’m trying to be there for her in a way I haven’t been in the past.
I stop outside of Finley’s apartment door, remembering how anxious I was the first time I came here. I think I might be even more so now.
Raising my fist, I knock it against the door a couple of times before taking a step back. It’s only seconds before the door swings open and Claire is staring back at me.
“Hi.” She smiles softly.
“Hey.”
“We really have to stop meeting like this,” she jokes, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
“She here?” I cut straight to the chase.
“She is.” She nods slowly, opening the door further so that I can step inside.
I slide past her, hearing the door snap closed behind me seconds later.
“She’s only been home a few minutes so she’s still getting settled. You’ll need to wash your hands before you go back there.” She gestures down the hallway. “And you’re not sick or anything, right?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Okay, good. You can use the sink in the kitchen.” She points to my right.
My eyes do a quick sweep of the apartment. It’s your standard, run of the mill apartment. A living room, dining area, and kitchen all crammed together into a small space–a tiny wall separating the kitchen from the other two rooms.
Sliding into the small galley style kitchen, I make quick work of washing my hands with the antibacterial soap Claire instructs me to use.
When I finish, Claire is standing at the mouth of the hallway waiting for me.
“She’s the last door on the left. She knows you’re here so there’s no need to knock. There are a couple things I need you to know before you go in there.” She waits until I nod before continuing, “She’s going to try to put on a brave face for you and pretend everything is okay when in reality she is very sick. Don’t let her down play it. You deserve to know what you’re getting into before you decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Whether or not this is something you want to continue.”
