Dropping Gloves Page 11

  I dug my phone out of my purse. Dr. Oliver’s office was calling. Nausea swamped me almost immediately upon seeing his name flash up on the screen. I pressed my eyes closed, flopped down to lie on my back, and answered the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Katie? It’s Dr. Oliver.”

  Not one of the nurses or a receptionist, even. He was calling me himself. That couldn’t bode well for whatever he had to tell me. Every part of my body tensed in preparation to hear the worst, even though I knew there was no chance he’d tell me over the phone. That wasn’t how doctors worked, typically.

  “I take it my test results are back?” I said, sounding a lot more put-together than I felt.

  “Just got the last of them this morning. I need you to come in so we can discuss what we’ve found and come up with a treatment plan.”

  That definitely wasn’t a surprise. We already knew it was cancer, so at this point, any result would be in-person-appointment worthy.

  “Okay. Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

  “Can you be here at two? I’ll have my receptionist move my schedule around.”

  Two o’clock. Meaning today. I glanced at my watch. Meaning in just over an hour.

  Meaning no time to prep myself for the news I’d been dreading.

  “Yeah,” I said, my tongue thick from the effort of holding back my tears. “Two o’clock. I’ll be there.”

  We hung up, and I pressed my hands to my stomach, wishing it would make the churning stop.

  I probably should have someone go with me in case I had an emotional breakdown and couldn’t drive. That seemed like the smart thing to do, but who?

  Dad was still up at the practice facility, surely. He rarely got home before mid-to-late afternoon these days. He had a job to do, so I shouldn’t call him and ask him to go with me.

  I should call Mom, but I wasn’t sure I could handle her being with me for getting the news, whatever it might be. It would be easier to deliver it to her if I knew what was going on and decided how best to fill her in. At home. On my terms. Nope, definitely not calling her right now.

  For a moment, I tossed around the idea of looking up one of my high school friends. They all had jobs, though, and couldn’t just take off in the middle of a workday with no notice. They had their own lives to lead, and they couldn’t just drop everything to come with me and hold my hand for a doctor’s appointment. This wasn’t an emergency. It wasn’t life or death…well, not immediately life or death, at least.

  In the end, I decided I’d just go alone. If it was too much for me to handle by myself, I could call someone to come and get me or take a cab. Something.

  I dragged myself up from the floor, grabbed my purse, and headed out the front door. I’d just put my key in the lock when Jamie’s car stopped in his driveway. Not only that, but he opened his car door and got out instead of driving into the garage. Under normal circumstances, I would be glad that he’d gotten out instead of pretending he hadn’t seen me. This wasn’t normal, though. This was as far from normal as possible.

  My hands were shaking so badly that I fumbled with the lock. I tucked the stray hair that had slipped out of my ponytail behind my ear and tried to slow my breathing and my pulse so I could get the shaking under control. No go. The keys dropped out of my hand and hit the porch. “Damn it.”

  “You all right?” Jamie asked. He was right behind me, close enough I’d step on his foot if I took a step back. Close enough I could feel the warmth of his body all along my backside.

  “Fine.” I bent down to get the keys.

  When I straightened, he reached for them. Or for me. His hand closed over mine, steady and strong. “You’re shaking,” he said. He put his other hand on my waist, drawing me back toward him. “You’re not cold. What’s wrong?”

  “Why does something have to be wrong?”

  “Because I know you.” He said it so matter-of-factly. And it was the truth. He knew me, maybe better than I knew myself sometimes.

  His body heat enveloped me, even though we were barely touching. He was like a protective shell around me, guarding me from whatever life might throw at me. Or maybe that was just what I wanted him to be, and he was letting me believe in the fantasy for a while. I wanted to lean back against him. I wanted to press my length against his and allow myself to pretend, for a little bit longer, that he could be my harbor in the storm I was about to face.

  “You’re crying,” he said, his mouth just behind my ear. “It kills me when you cry.”

  “Would you believe they’re happy tears? I just bought a house.”

  “But you’re shaking too hard to lock the door.”

  I supposed that meant he didn’t believe my excuse.

  He released my hand, easing the keys into his grip. Then he locked the door for me and nudged my arm until I faced him. His eyes were deep wells of concern, searching me, and he brushed a tear from my cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Tell me. Whatever it is. You said you want another chance. You want me to want you. So tell me.” He chucked me under the chin with his other hand, keeping me from turning away again. “Talk to me.”

  “I don’t even know if it’s anything worth crying over.” That was a lie. Cancer was definitely a cry-making kind of thing, and saying even that much only made my tears kick into overdrive.

  Jamie’s eyes traveled over me, probing as though he could ferret out the answers he wanted with nothing more than his gaze. I couldn’t handle the scrutiny. I felt as though he were peeling away all the layers of secrecy I’d built around myself over the years. If there were ever anyone I could feel safe opening up to about it all, someone I could trust to share my fears with, it was Jamie, but I couldn’t bear the thought of what he might think of me when he knew the truth.

  I tried to shrug away from him, but he slipped an arm around my waist and held me close, and his lips pressed against my temple. And I was toast. I was putty in his hands, his to mold in any way he saw fit.

  “You’re not shaking anymore,” he murmured, his lips still touching my skin. “Tell me, Katie. Let me help.”

  It just wasn’t in me to deny him anything. Not right now. “I have to go get my test results from my oncologist,” I forced out.

  He nodded, his jaw brushing my forehead, and both his arms tightened around me, cocooning me and giving me a safe haven, at least for the moment. I let my head fall forward, nestling it on his shoulder, even though I would make a mess of his shirt with my tears.

  “When?” he asked.

  “Now. He’s fitting me in at two.”

  “Is your mom meeting you there?”

  I shook my head.

  “Your dad, then?”

  I tried to answer, but another sob came out instead.

  “Damn it, Katie. You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

  “No.”

  “You can’t do this alone.” He smoothed a hand over my hair, brushing it back from the tears on my cheek. “Come on. I’ll take you.” He took my hand and led me to his car. I let him because right now, I needed someone to take over. Someone had to take charge, tell me what to do, and make sure I did it. I allowed myself this moment of weakness because conserving my strength was an absolute necessity right now, and would continue to be for a long time to come.

  Kicking cancer’s hairy ass out of my life the first time had taken more than I’d thought I had to give. I didn’t get the sense that this would be one of those things that got easier with practice. I was going to need every bit of strength I could muster and then some if I was going to come out on the other side of this.

  Jamie opened the car door and waited until I was situated. Then he closed the door and crossed to the driver’s side. He put his key in the ignition and started the motor, but instead of shifting into reverse, he reached for my hand.

  I shot my gaze up. His expression was fierce and caring at the same time.

  “I do want you, you know,” he said. “I want you more than I know what to do with. I’ve
never stopped wanting you. I don’t think I ever will, either, and I can’t handle losing you again.”

  I blinked back a couple more tears. He was going to give me another chance. “I’m not going anywhere, Jamie,” I said. “I already told you that.”

  “No, you’re not leaving. And you’re not going to die on me, either. You got that?” He squeezed my hand so hard it almost hurt. “I’m not going to let you. So you just need to get it in your head right now that you’re going to fight this with everything you have and then some. Anything less isn’t going to cut it. All right?”

  I sniffled and put my other hand over the top of his, my insides tingling from all the feelings racing though me. I nodded, never breaking eye contact. “I’ve got it. I’m ready to fight.” If he stayed by my side, I could do anything.

  “Good.” Then he kissed me so hard I felt it all the way down to my toes. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth briefly before breaking off and putting the car in gear.

  My face was still drenched from my crying. I dug around inside my purse to find some tissues. “How is it that I’m always crying when you kiss me?” I finally fished out my tissue pack and took one out to blow my nose.

  He quirked up a grin, glancing at me with a heated expression before backing out of the drive. “Not always. I seem to recall a recent kiss that didn’t involve tears.”

  “Well, there was that one,” I conceded. Still, there needed to be more kisses and fewer tears. It looked like I might finally get my way, too.

  “Thyroid cancer,” Katie repeated after the doctor.

  I clutched her hand tighter, unsure if I meant to reassure her or myself. Now that I’d made up my mind that I couldn’t not have her in my life, the last thing I wanted to do was sit here in a doctor’s office and listen while he told us all the things that might take her away from me. I’d rather be at home with her. Holding her. Showing her how much I wanted her in ways that proved how words failed. That was going to have to wait, though.

  I was just glad she’d let me in to meet with her doctor. This was something she shouldn’t go through alone, not any part of it.

  Dr. Oliver nodded. “Right now, the tumor is small. It doesn’t appear to have spread at this time, but we won’t know for certain until we get in there—”

  “Get in there,” she interrupted. “In my throat.” Her panicked gaze flickered over to me and back to the doctor. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears again. She’d had all sorts of procedures before, so I wasn’t sure why she was freaking out so badly this time.

  He gave her an appraising look. “Yes. You know how this works. We have to remove all traces of the cancer or it will only grow and spread.”

  “I know, but… How close is the thyroid to the vocal chords?”

  Fuck. It hadn’t crossed my mind. If anything went wrong…

  Over the next hour or more, the doctor answered all Katie’s questions and mine as well as he could. Yes, there was a possibility her vocal chords could be damaged in the surgery. No, it wasn’t likely. Radiation first, then chemo, hoping to shrink the tumor as much as possible in order to minimize the risk of complications during surgery. No, he couldn’t guarantee that she would be able to sing again.

  With every question we asked and with every answer he gave, Katie’s tension grew. She was close to falling apart at the seams, and I was the one who would have to catch all the pieces and stitch her back together again.

  I tried to absorb everything the doctor was telling her about the treatment plan he thought was best and the time frame for each component of her care. No matter how clearly he laid it all out there, I doubted she was taking much of it in. She kept going back to the thyroidectomy that would have to be performed. Back to the thought that she could lose the ability to speak or sing or do any of the things that had been her dream since well before I’d met her. Back to the notion that she might lose herself, or maybe the idea of herself that she’d been holding on to for so long.

  We finally finished up. Dr. Oliver handed me a manila folder full of paperwork detailing the treatment plan. I tucked it under my arm and shook his hand, and Katie headed up to the receptionist’s desk to pay for today’s visit.

  “She’s going to need help,” he said once she left the meeting room. “Going through radiation and chemotherapy isn’t easy for anyone, but it seems to be more debilitating in cases like this, when the patient has already been through it before. She thought she’d put it all behind her, but now it’s happening all over again. She’s going to need people to keep her spirits up.”

  I nodded my understanding, still processing everything that had happened in the last few hours.

  “Depression is common in cancer patients,” he added. “And if it becomes severe, it can derail any treatment we can give her.”

  “Are you telling me I need to keep her happy? Because I don’t know if that’s something I have any control over.” In fact, I would wager the opposite was true. There were a hell of a lot of things I didn’t know about life, but I did know that no one could force anyone else to be happy. Life just didn’t work that way.

  “I’m telling you that you need to keep a close eye on her emotional health, not just her physical health. It’s just as important, and just as deadly.”

  “All right.” That I could do. I was already going to be doing it, but it wouldn’t hurt to have it spelled out explicitly like that. “And if she needs help?”

  “Make her get it.”

  Those words were still echoing in my mind twenty minutes later when I parked in front of Webs and Laura’s house. Katie had asked me to come with her and help her explain everything to them, and I didn’t think it was the best idea to let her drive herself anywhere right now, anyway. She kept spontaneously bursting into uncontrollable tears, which I doubted would make for easy or safe driving.

  It felt weird walking up the sidewalk and going through the door with her hand in mine. Weird didn’t even begin to cover it when her parents both looked up from the living room.

  Laura took one good look at her daughter and was instantly on her feet and crossing to us. “What is it? What’s wrong?” She reached for Katie to draw her in for a hug, but Katie inched closer to my side. She shook her head, her eyes flashing over to me in a plea, and Laura visibly blanched.

  “Katie met with Dr. Oliver,” I explained. I worked my hand free and held Katie’s waist, drawing her in as if I could shield her from the world. If only it were so simple.

  Laura’s eyes filled with tears as Katie nestled into my arms. She crossed her arms in front of her since she couldn’t put them around her daughter. “What…” Her voice cracked, and she looked away and put a hand over her mouth.

  “Why don’t we all go sit in the living room so we can talk about it?” I suggested.

  Webs was still in there, his feet up on an ottoman. He shut down the iPad he’d been watching game film on and followed me with his eyes every step of the way as we joined him, Laura trailing behind me and Katie. I was pretty sure Laura had gotten her feelings hurt when Katie had chosen me for comfort instead of her. Maybe because I’d been the one with Katie at the doctor, too. I never wanted to hurt Laura, but I had to admit that it had made my chest puff up a bit when Katie had burrowed in to me.

  Katie and I sat on the love seat across from her father.

  Webs had his eyes zeroed in on me. I suppose it was more us than just me. He focused on how she leaned into me. Was he back to trying to intimidate me? I had gotten past that years ago. Katie was shaking again, like she had been when I’d gotten home from practice this afternoon, so I put a hand on her waist and nestled her closer to my side. When I looked up, I thought Webs gave me a nod. But that couldn’t be. Could it?

  Laura’s banging kitchen cabinet doors drew his attention away from me, at least for the moment. She had gone in there before joining us, and when she returned, she had a bottle of wine and a bunch of glasses on a tray. “Figured we might need it,” she said. “Or at least I will.” She
poured a couple of glasses and offered them around, but no one took her up on it. I figured she would need it more than I would, knowing her as I’d come to over the years. Laura wasn’t an alcoholic. She tended to have a glass or two every evening, for the most part, nothing excessive. But there were definitely times that she used wine to help keep her calm. Once we’d all turned her down, she curled up on the sofa next to Webs, both wineglasses still in her hands. “More for me, then.”

  Webs put an arm around her shoulders as she drank from one of them. Once she was settled and had guzzled about half a glass, he nodded across at us. “All right. What’s the deal? Do we have a plan?”

  Katie swallowed hard enough I could hear it, and her entire body tensed at my side.

  “It’s thyroid cancer this time, not leukemia,” I answered for her, and she softened so much that she melted into my side. Dealing with her parents—her mom in particular—about anything to do with cancer had always been hard for her. I could do it, though. I could take that responsibility from her and let her save her energy for the much bigger fight she had ahead. “Dr. Oliver wasn’t surprised it was a different type of cancer than before. He said that isn’t uncommon after chemo.”

  Laura finished her first glass and set it on the coffee table, bringing the rest of the bottle back to her lap. I kept going, laying out the finer points of everything the doctor had told us. Surprisingly, Laura still had half a bottle left by the time I finished my recitation.

  “So radiation again, then more tests, then maybe chemo, then more tests, then surgery,” Webs said, boiling it all down to the basic parts.

  “And probably more radiation after surgery,” I said, nodding.

  Laura sat up, placing the wine bottle back on the table. “How long are we looking at before surgery?”