by Ostrow, Lexi
An image of Gabe flashed in her mind, nothing more than how he’d looked the moment she’d accepted a date. Her panic seemed to quell as if merely thinking about something normal helped to calm her down. Her heart still beat rapidly, but she no longer thought she heard the quick pulse and though her mouth still felt filled with liquid, she wasn’t afraid she’d lose the little breakfast she’d consumed.
“I’m fine. Please continue.”
The oncologist nodded but stayed squatting. “After those first two months, we’re going to start you on a drug called Taxol. This will be every other week for another two months. It’s our hope that this will rid your body of the cancer.”
“Isn’t there a lump you should take out?”
“In the past, we’ve done surgery first. The more aggressive chemo treatments allow us to break down the cancer first. If for some reason it is ineffective, the next phase of your plan will be surgery. While it’s impossible to know if it will be a simple lumpectomy or mastectomy, radiation treatment has made it possible to avoid it in many instances.”
The first sigh of relief slipped out. The doctor thought there was a way to treat her without removing her breasts—she could live without her hair. You’ll live without boobs if that’s what it comes down too.
“And what are the percentages this is all I’ll need?”
“I can’t give you that at this time. Your body needs time to respond to the treatment. I assure you,” Judy took Cassandra’s hands and squeezed. “This plan may have been put together on short notice, but it is no less complete. This is the best possible chance to save you right now.”
Words stuck in her throat as the words from the doctor danced in her mind. Chemo. Best possible chance. Respond to treatment. There was no avoiding the flood of tears spilling silently down her cheeks. There was no way to even know if she was still sitting as the weight of the world crashed down on her. Sobs racked through her body, shaking her where she sat. The once silent tears became tumultuous as her cries filled the small office. Mucus filled her nose from crying, and she chocked. Her eyes flew open as she gasped for air. The tacky gray carpet seemed to taunt her as she stared at it, eyes burning with tears.
Only when she stopped crying did she realize Judy was rubbing her hand across her back in circles as a mother might do their child. Her face was a mix of wetness and red, and her chest hurt from the physicality of the fit, but she was done. There were either no tears left, or she’d simply tired herself out.
“I’m sorry,” the words croaked out, and she buried her head in her hands, embarrassment moving in.
“Quite all right. That is a natural response to this situation. As I mentioned, finding others who understand your journey will be important, but so will not being alone during this. While it might seem strange, I encourage you to have a friend stay with you at appointments.”
“I live close by, I use the T.”
“MBTA won’t be a valid option. Your body will be frail, both in between and right after treatments. You can, of course, take an Uber, but having a friend with you will make a difference.”
She was consciously aware of the way she sucked in a deep breath and stared at the other woman. Cassandra had close friends, but many were away in other countries. She had a few connections to uncles and aunts from her foster parents, but it didn’t feel right to burden them with this.
“I will think about it.”
Judy's eyes narrowed, likely displeased with the response, but Cassandra only had that to offer. Living life out of a suitcase for work meant ties were limited while home and being from the system left her with no ties once her adopted parents had died because they’d had no siblings or living parents. It wasn’t that she didn’t want one person to help her fight this, even if she believed she’d only tell work, she knew sooner or later someone else would learn of it.
“Splendid. We need to discuss some of what you’ll experience during your treatment to best prepare you. You need to be aware of what is to come, but if it is too much right now, I can send you to get your blood drawn for the test, and we can speak right after. The space might help you.”
“No.” Zero pause. “I want to know it all right now.” Looking down at her hands seemed more comfortable until she noticed the slight way they shook against her knees. She couldn’t handle staring at the doctor, so she directed her attention at a diagram on the wall. Tears still blurred her vision, leaving her uncertain what she the diagram showed, but still preferred. Cassandra had no desire to see any compassion or sympathy, not right now.
“Alright then. As we discussed briefly, your immune system is compromised, it will only continue to be so as the chemo starts. You will need a clean environment. I am not saying you have to live in a bubble, but you will need to carry hand sanitizer, keep your living area clean and be mindful of your surroundings. Contrary to what most people think, it is not cancer that kills a person, but another ailment caught because the body is too focused on fighting off the multiplying cancer cells.”
“Ironic I suppose.” The sentence slipped out, forcing her gaze over to the doctor. “I’m sorry.”
“It is a harsh reality, but your job is to keep yourself healthy. My job is to kill the cancer.” She smiled a genuine smile that warmed her dark eyes. “Now, we have to keep talking about the hard stuff, just a little longer.”
“I understand.” And she did. Bracing herself, Cassandra curled her fingers around the metal arm of the chair. “What’s going to be the worst part?”
“It is different for everyone—though most women deem the hair loss the hardest to cope with. Physically, the vomiting will take its toll. Your body will be weakened, and the heaving will hurt. That’s why we’ll be providing steroids for nausea, to mitigate any issues.”
She nodded, noticing a strange tingle in the tips of her fingers as she rubbed her hands together. That’s probably all in your head. “I can’t feel my hands.”
“That’s probably nerves, but if you can’t feel them after we take some blood, I want you to come right back.” She finally stood and walked back to stand behind her desk. “You will see your nail beds change—sometimes they grow yellow, other times they crack.”
“Because hair and nails are the same?”
“That is correct. You’ll find yourself having trouble sleeping, or possibly sleeping a lot. Sleep matters, get as much as you can. Your nerve endings will die, maybe not entirely, but at least partially by the third round of treatment. The smallest touch will feel like a hammer coming down. I’m sorry to say there is little we can do for that, except add necessary pain medications if you are in need. That is a bridge to cross once it happens, but I wanted to bring it up as many people were taken off guard by such sensations, and now they’re common disclosures during conversations of this nature.”
“What’s the point?” The bitter sentiment shocked her.
“The point is to live. This will be hard, but you told me you were ready to fight. Whether that’s changed or not, I’m going to fight for you. So will every technician, nurse, diagnostician and anyone else you come into contact with. But our fight only matters if you’re still fighting with us.” Disappointment cast across her face, though she held Cassandra’s gaze.
Tears filled her eyes again, and Cassandra forced off a growl. She didn’t want to cry anymore, crying was tiresome and encompassed more than enough of her youth. “So what I’ve gathered is I can’t travel for work. I can’t be in messy places, and there are going to be moments when my body will betray me more than it already has.” Anger dripped from the words. “And I’m going to fight every single day because there are kids out there that need me to help them get homes.” At that moment, she wasn’t fighting just because thirty was too young to die; but because people needed her more than she needed herself.
Doctor Dresdell nodded slowly, a smile on her lips. “Lastly, I believe the most important thing to cover with you, is a will.”
Once again, the room spun and actually se
emed to have the lights dim. Swallowing, Cassandra closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that when she reopened them, the room would be right again. It was.
“I don’t think I’m ready to discuss that yet, but if there’s information on it, I’ll make myself ready soon.”
She pushed the file folder over to Cassandra. “This is for your records. There are pamphlets inside about everything we’ve discussed. Read them over. My cell number is there as well. Your first appointment has been written down. I hope you understand, we will schedule the rest around your schedule and how your body is responding, but we need to begin.”
There was a fine line between understanding, liking and wanting to throw up. Cassandra wasn’t sure where she fit on the spectrum.
Scared shitless.
“How will we know if I’m okay?” The question was barely above a whisper.
“We will draw blood routinely, but it is unlikely results will occur until after your Taxol treatment. The same blood cell counts that let us know you have cancer will let us know if it’s gone.”
She barely resisted the urge to press her on her breasts. “Why is the lump not being biopsied?”
“We found the marker while doing the blood test, the mammogram confirmed cancer—a biopsy would be overdoing it, and we want to put your body through as few procedures as possible. My main concern for today is finding out if your liver can handle the current treatment plan.”
“What else?”
“That depends, what else do you have questions about?”
Moments ago she’d hundreds of questions lurked in her mind. Now that she had the opportunity to voice them, they vanished. It was as if her brain had been sucked out her ears—minus being able to have that thought of course.
“I can’t think of any.” There was no mistaking the frustration in her words. “How is that even possible? I’ve got cancer, shouldn’t I want to know a million different things?”
“This is overwhelming. You have my number, and I want you to call it. Nothing is a silly question. Not even a small paper cut. Promise me you’ll do that.”
“I do.”
“Good. We’re in this together, Cassandra. I want you to know that. Now, you need to go get your blood drawn. Do you know where?”
A head nod was all she could muster. She was angry with herself for not asking questions. There had to be so many important things she needed to know. Why didn't she remember them?
“Yes, one level up. Same place as always.”
“Call someone, Cassandra. I mean it. It will help.”
“I’ll think about it.” She rose on shaking legs and paused for a moment to ground herself. Life was going to be hard enough without her brain causing her to have fake symptoms or panic attacks. “Thank you, Doctor Dresdell. I’m going to fight. I’m going to win.”
She swore the older woman had a tear in her right eye, but Cassandra couldn’t, wouldn’t, acknowledge it. Instead, she walked out of the office and closed the door.
A tear eked out and clung to the tip of her nose. An irritated laugh drew her eyes closed pulling the last of the tears free. I can’t do this alone. She sniffled and wiped her hand across her eyes to clear the tears.
Without taking time to think about it, she pulled out her phone and opened up texts. The blank recipient field stared at her, and her fingers began to type—Gabe. It was only when his name was actually on the screen that she realized he’d never taken her number. He’d given her his coat, comforted her and had not done anything to push himself on her.
Can I return the jacket tomorrow night? Drinks at Stephanie’s—six?
Clutching the phone, she began to walk to the elevator. She’d never asked a man out before, and even though he’d asked first, it was nerve wracking. She was suffering from cancer, and she’d asked a man out. Nothing seemed as ridiculous as that. Until Cassandra saw her phone light up out of the corner of her eye.
I’m glad you texted. See you tomorrow. Drinks on me.
Relief whooshed out on a sigh. She wasn’t going to drag a kind man into this mess, but she needed normal. Normalcy would help her cope, by acting like everything was normal. It had to work because she didn’t want a pity party from anyone in her life.
Ten
Gabe let out a growl as he looked down at his watch for the sixth time in three minutes. He’d been on edge since leaving Cassandra at the hospital the previous morning. Every step of the journey he’d been by her side, even if she hadn’t known it. Not being there for such a critical moment felt like a betrayal of his duties.
“Except that you are here and unable to be with her at all times because you’re going above and beyond your duty.” The sentiment did nothing to cheer him up. Seeking to save Cassandra’s life had not started admirably, and that would haunt him. “Until you convince the angels to interfere and save her life.”
Meeting her yesterday had triggered something in him.
Something forbidden.
There had never been a question of her beauty, but seeing her with human eyes only served to make her beauty more pronounced. Speaking with her, hearing the sorrow in her voice, was a breaking point. Her smile had been infectious when she’d graced him with one yesterday. In an instant, he understood why she mattered to the children. She understood them, and her happiness was special. All day he thought of nothing save for returning her to the joyful woman who played tag with children. He needed to see Cassandra and make sure she was all right almost as much as he needed to learn about what made her special.
“Which is just the tip of what you’ll need to convince the council to save her.” Adjusting the tie around his neck, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The olive suit was an interesting contrast to his golden skin, and the white shirt was very clean, pure. His hair was not tied at the nape of his neck, but flowing loosely as it always was. Human men did not favor longer hair, but he was not a human.
He looked damn good, and yet, he wondered if Cassandra would agree or if she was merely meeting with him because she felt the calming effect he had on her. Either way, he was going to get what he needed to save her tonight.
The blast of an alarm from his coat pocket was a relief. Reaching inside, he silenced it without looking and headed out the door. It took great control not to take the stairs two at a time. His anxiousness alarmed him, but again, he’d met her face-to-face and could not shake his belief her happiness, and her mission mattered to more than just him.
December was three days away, and he couldn’t help but notice the cold blast of air as it smacked into his chest as he stepped out of the building. The darkness was surprised him as he’d never noticed how difficult it was to see in the dark before. With angel eyes, everything was the same no matter what. Yet now as he walked over to Newbury, there were things in the distance shrouded by shadow—unimportant things, but it was different nonetheless. Cold, bad vision, not flying; there was little appealing to being human except for the warmth that had filled him when he’d taken Cassandra’s hand in his.
Was that just because you’re human? For weeks he’d been attracted to Cassandra Marks. Carlyle told him such an interest was common because she was his charge. Gabe hadn’t questioned it at first but now wondered as the leaves crunched under his loafers, if there wasn’t another reason he was fighting so hard to save one woman.
As a Battle Angel, he’d protected hundreds of humans from demons during wars. Not once had he ever felt compassion or lust—even when helping the Amazonian women. Women who should have appealed to his every desire as a warrior. No, Cassandra Marks called to him far differently. What had started as concern for her life had swiftly altered the moment they’d touched outside the hospital. She was extraordinary, and Gabe knew it now more than ever.
“Gabe!”
The suddenness of hearing his name snapped him from his thoughts. “Cassandra.” The smile that slipped onto his lips was not stoppable, and he didn’t care. She looked mostly the same as she had when she’d entered the T sto
p yesterday. Her now dry beige coat concealed her beautiful curves. Her hair hung in curled tendrils down her back and hideous snow boots were on her feet. What wasn’t the same were her eyes.
They were lined with red, streaks running through them and around her eyelids. She had been crying, a lot. “Cassandra.” He repeated her name when he stepped closer to her and had to ignore the urge to pull her to him. “Are you well?”
“I don’t think there’s any need for discussions of that nature.” She snapped, and she passed him back his jacket. “I want something normal right now.”
The sheer irony in telling that to me . . . an angel. “Very well then.” He let his lips curve into a smile even though he felt like doing anything but smiling now that he knew how poorly she’d been handling her situation without him to guide her. “That for me?” He motioned with his hand toward the jacket under her arm.
“Oh. Yes, of course.” She smiled then as she untucked his coat from her grasp. “I hope it’s all right, I had it cleaned. Can’t be too careful when you’re dealing with this.” Her voice grew softer as she likely referenced her cancer, but she quickly shook her head. “And now I owe you a drink for your kindness.”
“If I’m honest, my kindness held plenty of deceitfulness. I had hoped we would see one another again. I find you remarkably beautiful.” His eyes widened. The last part slipped out unintended.
However, she laughed. In fact, she threw her head back and when she stopped laughing, a smile that reached her eyes lit up her face and settled some of the anger within him.
“So you did lie about your initial motives?”
“Never. I wanted you to have my coat because a no one should be out in the cold in wet clothing. I had intended to wait until you returned my jacket to persuade you into letting me take you out. However, one never knows, you might have taken my coat and run off with it.” He winked at her, the tension in his body slipping away as he was convinced she was able to find even the slightest bit of peace and happiness when near him.
