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“It wasn’t good.” She shakes her head. “Not good at all. But in the end, with his Father’s help, I think we softened the blow a little.”
I can’t even imagine getting news like this. It’s just awful.
“Do you know where he is?” I ask. It seems fitting now that something has been going on, as he hasn’t replied to me all day and, usually, he replies straight away, unless he’s at training.
“He said he was going home.”
“I’ll go make sure he’s okay,” I say as we hug again. “You’re going to get through this, Gillian, you know that, right?”
“I’m trying to keep telling myself that.”
“We’re all here for you, no matter what,” I tell her. “Anything you need.”
“Thank you, Emmerson. For everything.”
She walks back to the house as I pull out my cell and text Taylor to see where he is.
He replies sometime after I’ve gone back into the house.
He says he’s at the lake.
Once we get dad settled, I decide to throw my jacket and sneakers on and head down there on foot, just like when we were kids.
I can’t even imagine what he’s going through right now. I’m sure it’s a lot to take in.
When I get to the familiar bend that we’ve sat at so many times, I see his car.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk up and tap on the passenger side window.
After a moment, it rolls down and I hear Taylor tell me to jump in.
When I open the door and slide into the passenger seat, the first thing I see is him holding a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Taylor… what are you doing?”
He looks at me so intently, I want to break on the spot. He’s definitely been crying.
“Trying to numb things, Em.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“Not bad until this hot redhead messaged me.”
I can’t help but notice he appears to be a little drunk. I glance down at the bottle, but I can’t tell how much he’s consumed because his hand is covering it.
“I heard what happened, Tay. I saw your Mom before I came here.”
He looks out to the lake. “Pretty fucked up shit, isn’t it?”
“Well, it isn’t the best news you’ve probably heard, so I’m sure you’re pretty shocked right now.”
“Yeah… just a bit. You know what the five-year survival rate is if it’s malignant?”
I shake my head.
“Twenty to thirty-five percent!”
“Taylor, I’m so sorry.”
