“Are they looking for a cure?” Anchor asks.
The doctor nods. “Yes, there are groups seeking it. That’s the purpose of the trials. It’s everyone’s hope that a cure will be found soon.”
I sniffle. “Any chance that will be in the next six months?”
“There’s no way to know.”
“In other words, no.” I lean against Anchor and give into the tears, shaking and sobbing. I have to get as much of this out of my system before I see her.
Anchor taps my shoulder. “He wants to know if we have any more questions.”
I sit up and look at Dr. Mikaelson. “Not right now. What if we think of something later?”
“You have my number. Also, I’ll give you a list of reputable websites that are filled with information about the tumor.”
“What’s it called again?”
“Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma, or DIPG. Most people just call it DIPG.”
“How did she get it?” Now that I’ve said I don’t have any questions, they’re filling my mind.
“We don’t know what causes it.”
“Is it rare? Is that why they didn’t know what it was in the emergency room?”
“It is very rare, but it’s been getting more attention thanks to social media. Word is really getting out, and as a result, more people are donating funds for research.”
Not that it’s going to help our little girl.
“Are you ready for me to bring her back in here?” The doctor stands.
I nod and wipe my tears away. I’m sure the skin around my eyes is red and splotchy.
Anchor turns to me, the whites of his eyes bloodshot and his skin tear-stained. “Maybe we should wait before saying anything to Kady. It’s too raw.”
“Will it ever not be raw?” My throat closes up and more tears threaten.
The door flings open and Kady runs in, talking about the games she played. She stops mid-sentence. “Why are you guys crying?”
I wrap my arms around her. “We’re sad about your owie. It always makes us sad when you have owies.”
Especially the kind that will eventually take her away from us.
Anchor
DIPG is the worst four-letter word there is.
The past months have both gone by in a blur and also dragged on as if time had stopped. What I wouldn’t give for it to actually stop. So we can keep Kady with us forever. But it’s obvious that won’t happen.
Her crossed eye hasn’t gotten any better and she asked to stop ballet yesterday. The routines get harder each time, and she can’t keep up. The headaches come and go, sometimes getting so intense that she screams until her voice gives out.
I see the light going out from Sutton’s eyes with each new progression of the disease. We’ve taken Kady for radiation treatments, but they’re as traumatic as the scan was, ending up with more sedation.
Both Sutton and I have postponed school indefinitely. The college said they would allow our payments to go toward the next session we sign up for. Though it was nice, and they certainly didn’t have to, it’s hard for us to be grateful because we won’t go back until Kady’s fight with DIPG is over.
The only thing I’m grateful for is all the support we have. Everyone from our families (except for Sutton’s dad’s side, not surprisingly) and Kade’s have stepped in, taking care of her and us. Sutton doesn’t want to sleep at all—she doesn’t want to miss a moment of Kady’s life, whether she’s awake or sleeping.
“Can I get ice cream with Uncle Rogan and Auntie Kenna?”
Kady’s voice brings me back to the present. I’m sitting in Sutton’s dining room with a full bowl of now-cold curry soup in front of me. Sutton is sleeping next to her half-consumed soup.
“Can I?” Kady pleads, squeezing her tiny palms together, her good eye staring directly at me. Her cheeks are a little bigger than normal, a side effect from something to help with her pain—steroids, I think. It’s so hard to keep track of everything.
“Sure. Just stay close to them, okay?”
“Thank you!” She races around the table, and just before reaching me, she stumbles. Her arms fly out in front of her, but she’s headed straight for the corner of the table.
Rogan and I both leap for her and catch her before she hits.
“Sorry.” Kady frowns, then wraps her arm around me. “Samantha said she has a Sparkles stuffy for me.”
“Samantha?” I try to remember who that is.
“From the ice cream place, Daddy. She gave me the stickers that one time, then a mask last time. Remember?”
“Oh, right. Samantha. Yeah. That’s great, sweetie.” I don’t know how I’d forgotten about the girl who had taken such an interest in Kady. At first, I’d worried that the teen would say something hurtful when she saw Kady’s cross-eye but she’d ended up giving her compliments and stickers. But with everything going on, it isn’t actually surprising that I’d forget anything. So little of what used to matter holds any value now. School, work, savings—meh.
Family and loved ones are the only things I care about.
“I love you, Daddy.” Kady gives me a big hug, though it isn’t as tight as it used to be.
I try not to think about that as I embrace her. “I love you too, sweetie. Have fun, okay?”
Kenna gives me a reassuring smile. “We’ll take good care of her, then bring her right back. I just thought she might enjoy getting out of the house.”
I nod a thanks and force myself to let go of her, then watch her walk away with them. Once she’s out of sight, I sit down and eat my soup. Though spicy, I can’t taste it. I barely notice it’s cold.
Every passing day feels like a countdown. One day closer to Kady getting worse. I shouldn’t have, but I’ve searched online and know what havoc the disease wreaks on kids. I’ve watched videos of kids declining until they’re bedridden, then become unresponsive. Some lose consciousness before losing the ability to walk, but from what I can tell, it’s rare. And I hate to say, I don’t know what’s worse. I’m glad I don’t have to pick what happens, but the wondering can drive me crazy in quiet moments like this.
Sutton sits and looks around. She has a line down her face from the table. “Where’s Kady?”
“With Rogan and Kenna. They took her to get ice cream.”
“How did I fall asleep?”
“Because you won’t sleep at night.”
She glares at me.
“I wasn’t trying to be mean. Just pointing out the truth.”
Sutton sighs. “I don’t want to sleep. I can do that later. There’ll be plenty of time when she’s—when this is over.”
“But you’ll be able to give her more when you’re rested. Please sleep when she does.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls it away.
“What if she stops breathing?”
“Is something wrong with her lungs? Is that something we’re supposed to worry about?”
“Stop being sarcastic.”
“Sutton, I’m not. I’m honestly asking.”
She closes her eyes and rubs her temples.
“We’re both tired and under tremendous amounts of stress, but I’m still here for you. Don’t push me away.”
“I’m not trying to.”
Silence settles between us. It’s become so familiar when we aren’t focused on Kady.
“Do you want to go to the living room?” I break the silence. “Might be more comfortable.”
“I don’t care about being comfortable.”
I take a deep breath and count to ten, trying not to react through my irritation. “I’m really trying, Sutton.”
“What do you expect from me?” She finally looks at me, tears shining in her eyes. “My daughter is dying!”
“Kady’s my daughter too. I’m going through the same thing. Let me in. We can help each other.”
“I don’t know that I have it in me to be both her mom and your fiancée. I’m barely functioning.”
“We’d be stronger together if yo
u’d let that happen.”
She doesn’t respond right away. “I’ve lost Kade, and I’m going to lose Kady. I don’t have anything else left to give.”
“Then let me give to you. I don’t have much left either, but I’ll give you what I have if you’d let me.”
She frowns.
“Do you think I’m going to leave you? Is that it?” Irritation burns.
She shrugs.
“Why? I’ve been here for you through everything! Starting from just moments after Kade died. I haven’t left your side for anything. Nothing, Sutton! Everything I’ve done has been for you. Make sure you were okay day after day? Check. Work myself to the bone? Check. Go to school during that time? Check. Take care of you and Kady? Check. Give you my entire heart without asking anything in return? Check.”
Her face falls. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate any of that. I do, Anchor. All of it, but the problem is that I have nothing left to give. Nothing! I’m completely spent.”
“Then at least let me take care of you. I don’t want to lose you too. We’ve both already lost so much, and we know more heartbreak is on the horizon. Don’t push me away. We need each other more now than ever. If I don’t have you through this, it’ll crush me.”
She scrunches her face and her lips tremble. A tear rolls down her face. “Don’t do this to me. Not now.”
My eyes mist. “What am I doing? Let me take care of you, that’s all I’m asking. I’m not asking you to give a single thing.”
She blinks more tears onto her cheeks. “Anchor, I… I…”
My heart shatters. For her, for me, for Kady. “What?”
“I can’t open my heart to any more pain.”
The words slice like a knife. “What are you saying?”
“I just can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Risk it.”
I jump up. “What does that mean? Are you trying to break up with me? Is that what you’re doing?”
She just stares at me, her lips quivering.
“Tell me what’s going on!”
“I don’t have anything to give to a relationship. Nothing.”
“And what do I keep telling you? I’ll give what little I have. Just let me!”
Sutton rests her head on the table and sobs.
More than anything, I want to put my arms around her and comfort her—even if it only lasts a moment. But I’m not sure I can take the rejection right now. I know she’s speaking from a dark place. I’m there myself. The difference is I know we can get out of it together. She can’t see that now.
The question is, do I walk away and give her the space she says she needs, or do I give her the commiseration she actually needs?
“Just go,” she says.
There’s my answer.
I open my mouth to protest, but then I close it. I’ve already said what’s on my heart and she’s refusing it. I storm out of the room, but when I’m halfway down the hall, I turn around and go back to the dining room. “What do you think will help Kady the most? Seeing us together or apart?”
Then I go.
Sutton
I swing alone on Kady’s play set. Dark clouds have settled across the sky to match my mood. Everything about the setting is an exact representation of my destroyed heart.
Lightning flashes in the distance, followed by a crack of thunder so loud, I feel it in my bones. Then large raindrops fall from the sky.
I don’t care enough to budge. The water drenches me in a matter of moments before a bigger, brighter bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, again followed by an eardrum-shattering thunder that runs through me.
My clothes and hair are now thoroughly soaked, clinging to me. Drops trail down my face and arms. It’s as if Heaven itself is crying for me, with me.
I’d probably be smart to get inside. Maybe part of me hopes the storm will take me out. Then I won’t have to deal with anything else wrecking my life. Demolishing my heart.
It would be punishment for what I’m doing to Anchor. I should’ve run after him. Not let him leave the way he did.
He’s completely right in everything he said, but I’m also right. I have nothing to give, and that includes the energy to let him in. I want to, but I can’t. It’s not fair to him.
“Sutton!” His voice echoes in my mind.
I can’t get away from him, even out here.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” Anchor isn’t in my head, he’s behind me.
“I told you to go away!”
“You need to get inside!” He marches in front of me.
I pump harder. “You’d better move before you get hit!”
He crosses his arms over his chest.
The way his shirt clings to him makes my pulse race.
I focus on his stringy hair and pump faster. One or two more good swings and he’ll have no other choice but to move out of the way.
Closer, closer. My feet nearly make contact.
He reaches out and grabs my ankles.
I jerk to a stop at an odd angle. My hands slide on the slippery chain. I nearly let go.
Lightning brightens the dark sky. I can feel the thunder before I hear it.
“Let me go!” I try to kick my legs, but his grip is too tight.
“Not until you’re out of the storm.” His brows draw together.
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Well?”
“Leave, then I’ll go inside.”
Anchor shakes his head. “Not good enough. I need to see that you’re safe in there.”
“Have you always been this frustrating?”
“Have you?”
I squirm to get out of his hold again, but it’s useless. I can always come back out later. Or maybe Kady will be back soon, and I can focus on her. “Fine. Let go, and I’ll go inside.”
“Good.” He lets go, and I sail backward.
I’m tempted to start pumping again, but I dig my feet down and skid to a stop in the now-muddy ground. “Happy?”
“You aren’t inside yet.”
Lightning flashes in the distance as if to prove his point.
I march past him and head for the house. As I pull open the sliding glass door, water pools from my clothes onto the cement. If I walk into the house like this, my mom will throw a fit. Not that I would blame her, because the carpet in the downstairs family room is only a few months old.
“You’re not inside yet.” Anchor leans against the wall and arches a brow.
I start to say something smart, but my tongue refuses to work. Between the way he’s standing and how he’s looking at me, it makes my heart race. I hate that he has this effect on me.
I shouldn’t be attracted to him. Not now. Not with everything going on in our lives. It makes me a horrible person. What kind of person am I to feel like this when my daughter is so sick?
“Are you going to go inside?” He tilts his head.
I glance down to keep from looking at him. Raindrops from my hair roll down my face. I wring out my curls and watch as the water falls to the ground. My clothes are still dripping, so I wring them out the best I can. It doesn’t help much.
I force myself to look at Anchor, focusing on his eyes rather than his physique. The pain I see in them feels like a sword in my gut. I stare at an imperfection in the wood next to him. “I’m going to have to take these off before I go inside.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want you watching.”
“I said I’d go once you’re safely inside.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m out of the storm. The awning is keeping me from the rain.” I glance up at it.
“Still aren’t inside.”
“Fine.” I spin around and grab the bottom of my shirt. It sticks to my skin, making it hard to pull off. I should’ve worn a looser top.
“Do you want some help?”
“I said I don’t want you watching.”
“I’m not, but it’s impossible not to notice that you’r
e struggling.”
“I can get it.” I struggle with it some more, not making any progress.
“If you let me help, I can go back home faster.”
I groan. “Fine.”
Anchor’s fingers brush against mine as he pulls on my shirt. It comes off with ease until it rubs against my face and yanks on my hair. Then it snaps free, taking a few strands with it.
I hear him wring it out behind me. I’m tempted to run into the house to get away from him, but my sweatpants are muddy and still dripping. Mom’s new carpet is cream-colored.
“I’ll go inside, I promise. I’m not going out in the storm like this.”
“I don’t mind waiting.”
“Of course you don’t.” I grab the waist of my pants and pull on them. They stick a little, but not enough that I can’t get them off. I cover my legs with them and spin around. “I’ll take the shirt now.”
His gaze roves over me. “You’re so beautiful.”
My breath hitches. I really hate how he has this effect on me, but I still lose myself in his eyes.
Anchor steps closer and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him. He holds my gaze for a moment before pressing his lips on mine, kissing sweetly at first and then taking it deeper. I fight him for a moment. He lets go of me. Pulls back. Then I let go of my sweats, grab his scruffy face, and pick up the kiss where we left off. He rakes his hands through my hair and moans.
I need this. No, I have to stop this. This is wrong. But at the same time oh-so-right. I don’t know what’s right. What I need. I’m lost in my pit of sorrow and grief. I want to be left alone. But I also want him. The comfort he desires to give me.
I’m a mess. A wreck.
I step back and grab my pants and shirt from the ground.
His wide eyes beg for an explanation.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I run inside, straight up to the bathroom, and lock the door behind me. Then I slide to the ground and sob.
What am I doing, pushing away the man I love? The one person who has been with me through all of the hardest times of my life? Anchor didn’t leave my side when I was mourning Kade. He fell in love with me when I was carrying another man’s baby. He even stayed with me when I thought I might lose the baby, then when I gave birth. And he hasn’t faltered once since then. He stepped in as Kady’s dad. As my support. Working himself to exhaustion between his job and school.
The Only Things You Can Take (Wildflower Romance #2) Page 20
