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But the last time I was in this situation, I was just a kid. Now I’m a grown man. It’s the same but different. More intense.
My body is in the car as I drive to Boston, my limbs making all the right moves to get me there as fast as possible, but it’s like my spirit is detached from the reality of it all. Like I’m hanging in the air, watching and waiting for what’s about to happen.
I thought staying away from Jade would help take away the pain, but the only thing on my mind was: What if this is it? What if the last time I saw her, I was too chicken shit to tell her how I felt? What if—
No, I shake my head, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.I’m not going down that road.
Those are the words I chant on repeat all the way to the hospital.
My tires screech as I slam my foot on the break, pulling my car into the first open parking space I see before rushing out and into the hospital.
The smell of antiseptic hits me the moment the door slides open. I have no idea where I’m going or what I might find. I should have grabbed my phone, but it’s somewhere in my bag, back in the car.
“Shit,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. An older lady gives me a once-over before she pulls away, clutching her bag tighter.
Ignoring her judging stare, I look around, my gaze falling on the map of the hospital and all its departments. I start toward it, trying to form a plan. Maybe I should go to the ER and ask around, although what are the chances of them telling me anything?
I scan the map, my eyes falling on the oncology department. I note the floor number just as the elevator pings. I turn around, taking a step toward it, only to come face to face with Nixon.
I look behind him, needing to see her, needing…
“She’s not here,” Nixon says softly. It’s the first time since this debacle came to light that he sounds like the old Nixon. Like my best friend.
My throat bobs as I swallow, forcing the words out. “Where is she?”
“Surgery.”
With one word, just one single word, the ground parts between my feet.
“No,” I shake my head.
All the moments we had started flashing through my head.
Not enough.
It wasn’t enough.
Nixon watches me for a moment, the realization dawning on him. “She didn’t tell you.”
“We haven’t really been talking,” I snap at him. But it’s not Nixon I’m angry at. It’s me.
I shouldn’t have walked away. I shouldn’t…
“What happened? Is she…”
Is she all right?
Is she alive?
God, let her be alive.
“She’s fine. Or, well, as fine as she can be. Her doctor recommended she do a double mastectomy.”
A double…
I run my shaking hand over my face.
She’s not dying. She’s fighting, fighting to live.
