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“Of course you don’t,” I roll my eyes. “You should have seriously stayed back home. This can’t be good for your leg.”
“My leg is just fine the way it is. Besides, this is good for me. I can watch and learn first-hand.”
“All done,” Nurse Judy says, her attention shifting to Prescott. “You a med student, handsome?”
“Pre-med.”
“He wants to be an oncologist.” I turn my attention to the nurse. “He’s studying for his MCATs, so I’ll get to quiz him.”
Her brows rise in surprise. “Does he now? Well, if you have any questions, let me know.” She places her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll come back to check on you in a bit. In the meantime, if you need anything, just press this button, and I’ll come.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll quiz me?” Prescott asks the moment she’s gone.
“Not like I have anything better to do for the next few hours. And you need to get all the studying in that you can.” I extend my hand. “Gimmie.”
“Or you could try and rest,” Nixon suggests as he brings another chair closer.
I shake my head. “I’m too anxious to rest. So gimme. Let’s see what you’ve got, Dr. Wentworth.”
* * *
This isn’tmy first rodeo with chemo. I drove my mom to countless appointments. I sat next to her those first few rounds when they still thought there was something they could do to help her. When she still wanted to fight.
I thought I was ready.
I thought I knew what to prepare for.
I didn’t know shit.
At first, I was fine. Nixon and I cross-examined Prescott to help him prep for his MCATs. It was fun, and for a while, I actually forgot where and what I was doing. Nurse Judy came and went, making sure that I was okay, and then, before you knew it, it was done, and I could go home.
Halfway to our house, the chills started. Nixon cranked the heat, and I pulled the blanket out of the duffle bag, wrapping it around myself like a cocoon, but I was still shaking. And then, as we were pulling in front of the house, the bile started to rise up my throat. Nixon didn’t even have the chance to stop properly before I unbuckled my seatbelt and stumbled out of the car in time to throw up the little that I had for breakfast.
There was cursing behind me as both men joined me.
“You okay, Smalls?” Nixon asks, crouching down next to me.
“She’s not okay,” Prescott hisses.
A warm hand touches the back of my neck, the goosebumps rising on my skin and making me shiver.
“Let’s get you to bed, okay?”
“Bathroom,” I croak, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My stomach still feels too queasy, and the last thing I want is to puke in my room.
I try to push to my feet, but the wave of dizziness makes my knees quake. I’d probably fall if steady hands didn’t wrap around me.
“I’ve gotcha,” Prescott whispers softly. “Let’s get you inside, okay?”
I shake my head. “Your leg…”
“Fuck my leg.”
“She’s right. You can’t mess up your leg, dude.” Prescott starts to protest, but Nixon is already picking me up and carrying me up the stairs just as the door opens.
“I thought I heard a car—” Yasmin’s voice falters as her eyes fall on me. “Jade? What’s wrong?”
