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“What’s your problem?” she asked.
“I’m not the one with the problem.”
“I’m allowed to be angry,” she told him. “I have an octopus growing in my head.”
Kent scoffed. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Yes. It’s ugly and large, and it’s eating my brain.”
Kent nodded. “You can be angry, Palmer. But you don’t have to be disrespectful,” he told her. He bent down and picked the cup up off the floor and set it in a pile of garbage. “I’m not the octopus.”
“I never said you were.”
Kent said nothing as he ate his lunch. Palmer studied him. She waited for him to look at her, but he wouldn’t. She picked at her yogurt, taking only a couple of bites until her stomach protested. Palmer pushed it away and sighed.
Kent ignored her.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she leaned forward to rest her head on her hands. “This thing . . . one minute I’m fine, and the next it’s like a demon who’s trying to get out.”
Kent rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to goad you earlier.”
“What else are you supposed to do?” she asked. “Placate me? Ignore me? Either way, I’m sure the ugliness will come out in full force.” Palmer covered her face for a moment and then looked at Kent. “I’m not that type of person. I don’t smart off or say mean things, and I hate that this thing makes me act like an a-hole.”
Kent laughed. “I think you’ve earned the right to cuss, if you wanted.”
Palmer shrugged. “It’s not who I am.”
“It doesn’t make any difference if you need to express yourself. Maybe we should find a place where you can stand and scream. Say everything you want to say, without anyone hearing you.”
“You’d hear me,” she said.
“I’ll cover my ears.”
Palmer smiled softly and reached for Kent’s hand. “You’re too good to me.”
Kent raised their hands and pressed a kiss to the back of Palmer’s. He released her hand, gathered their garbage, and took the tray to the trash. Palmer followed behind him.
They made their way to the Jeep. Kent helped her in and then got into the driver’s seat. He drove over to the gas pumps, filled up, and then checked the navigation. “We’re almost there, but we’re going to hit a lot of traffic.”
“Can we skip New York?” she asked him.
He glanced at her and waited.
“I’d rather head to Washington, DC.” In her mind, some sights were far more important than others, and this was one of them.
“We can do whatever you want, Palmer.”
“Will you be mad?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. Besides, I love DC, and I can’t wait to show it to you. Going now will give us more time.”
“Thank you.”
Kent smiled at her and reached for her hand. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m right where I want to be.”
“Me too.” Only she wanted to be alive and with him.
TWENTY-TWO
They arrived in Washington, DC, in the late hours of the night, or was it the early hours of the morning? Kent’s job often required him to stay awake for hours on end, and he’d mastered the art of the quick twenty-minute catnap, but the endless driving wore him out. When Palmer was awake, she kept him company, and when she slept, he let his thoughts wander.
He worried about her and, not for the first time, questioned whether this trip across the country was a good idea. Each day, Kent saw something new in Palmer that showed her health was failing her. The outburst at lunch caught him off guard. He’d expected the behavioral changes but had prayed they wouldn’t show up for another week or two. His sweet, shy, and reserved Palmer had disappeared before his eyes in a matter of minutes, and he hated it.
And he hated knowing and visualizing the tumor taking over her brain. Maybe Palmer was right in calling the tumor an “octopus”—they were always growing and could mimic their environment. The clawlike mass in Palmer’s brain presented like a migraine, but now that its presence was out in the open, the headaches weren’t as bad because everywhere else hurt.
Kent pulled into the check-in-only space in front of their hotel. They didn’t have a reservation there for two more days. Palmer’s request to skip New York City had thrown his planning off course. Palmer was sound asleep, and Kent didn’t want to wake her. He leaned forward and confirmed she was breathing, though, for his own peace of mind. Kent kept the car running, made sure the fob was in his pocket, and exited the vehicle as quietly as possible. He locked the door before closing it and made his way into the hotel, ready to plead with the night manager.
The lobby was quiet and absent of any life. The decor reminded Kent of the lobby at Palmer’s apartment complex, complete with a fireplace. Kent felt the warmth radiating and somehow found the entire setup inviting. The pictures on the internet did not do this place justice.
