I waited for her to come out, bent over the tiny screen, my elbows on my knees, my face in one hand. Finally, after over half an hour, I heard her step down the hall. I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
She wore those same baggy jeans from yesterday and had pulled on a bright pink T-shirt, just as baggy. I didn’t move, didn’t look up until I felt her sink down on the couch next to me, curling her legs underneath her.
I stood up. “You need breakfast,” I said.
She looked away from my gaze. “Not feeling real hungry right now.”
I ignored her, went into the kitchen, stuck a piece of bread in the toaster, scraped a small bit of butter across it, the way I knew she liked it, and brought it back to her, holding it in front of her. “Eat,” I ordered.
With a distinct sigh she pulled it off the plate and took a tiny bite, then pulled it away from her face, taking forever to chew it. I continued to watch her and when she swallowed the first bite I raised my brows at her expectantly. She grimaced and took another bite, tearing it off reluctantly and chewing.
When I was satisfied that she would continue, I sat down on the same spot beside her. She only finished half the toast before she set it on the plate. I didn’t protest. It was better than nothing.
“Heath told me that you know everything,” she finally said in a shaky voice.
I cocked my head toward her, trying to ignore the ice-cold boulder of panic forming at the center of my being. But it wasn’t just panic. It was betrayal. Hurt. Helplessness. God, it was like Bree all over again only ten times worse.
“Do I?” I finally asked in a tight voice.
She blinked. “I was going to tell you right from the start but—” She cut off at my look of disbelief. “I was. That night we hung out at Dale and Boomers…I was going in for the biopsy the next day and I was going to tell you, but…you were stressed and upset about the lawsuit and I didn’t even know if this was going to turn out to be anything so I didn’t say anything.”
I continued to stare at her without responding, with the hope that this would draw out more details. “Adam, it’s been a shitty few months for you and I didn’t want to make it worse. But when the test came up positive…I came over to your house to tell you.”
I blinked and looked away. The day she’d found out about the PI.
“And yeah, I got pissed off because you were trying to take over and take control instead of letting me come to you. I was so angry and I felt betrayed. So I didn’t want to tell you for a while. After that you were pissed because I went to Baltimore and then you started dating other people so I thought it was over—” Her voice trembled and cut off at a sob. She put the back of her hand to her mouth as if to smother it.
I closed my eyes, utterly horrified at what she’d gone through alone—and then thinking I’d moved on with someone else. “One person. One time. And only because…because I thought your going to Maryland meant that you’d decided to move on without me.” I reached out and took her hand in mine. It felt limp, cold. Like death. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Her fingers returned the pressure, but she didn’t look at me. “There were so many times when I wanted to tell you—when I almost told you. But something always stopped me. Or maybe it was just my own cowardice.”
That frustration rose up inside, me, tightened in my chest. “I could have helped you. I would have taken care of you. Fuck, I’d walk through Hell barefoot for you if necessary.”
“You would have taken over.”
I was silent for a long moment, scrubbing a hand over my face. “And my not having any control at all has turned out so well,” I said dryly.
“Adam—”
“You remember when you said I was like a storm blowing you this way and that? And I told you that the storm was life and I was the anchor holding you down. I could have been, for this. I would have been here for you, if you had let me.”
She tilted her face down so I couldn’t see when I glanced at her, but she sniffed a little and swept a tear away with the back of her hand. Long silence stretched between us, thick, solid. I felt lightheaded, disoriented.
“What happens now?” I asked.
She opened her mouth to reply and then shut it. “I—I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Of course she hadn’t. Neither of us had. But Heath’s words were still fresh in my mind. You know what she has to do. I did know. And I had no idea what her reaction would be.
“Well, you should see your doctor first thing on Monday. You’re seeing an oncologist?”