Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Hawk slips his hand into mine as we walk back to the waiting room, and I let him. His palm is rough and steady, and for a second I can almost believe I’m just another woman leaving another doctor’s office.
But I’m not.
I’m a woman with ghosts that never stop screaming.
And the girl I couldn’t save is waiting for me in every shadow.
If this is the last day I ever see the sun as a free woman, at least I’ll remember how it feels on my skin.
What I don’t tell him is that the hardest part is yet to come.
Because tomorrow morning, I’ll put on the blue dress the Chef asked for and I’ll go to him.
Alone.
And I’ll make sure that this time, someone else gets to walk away.
I try to sniff back tears.
I’m unsuccessful.
27
HAWK
Daniela’s crying before I even realize what’s happening.
“Hey,” I murmur, turning toward her. “What’s wrong?”
She wipes at her cheek, but another tear slips free. “Nothing,” she says. “It’s just… This waiting area… It reminds me of my father’s office.”
Her voice is tight and strangled. She doesn’t elaborate, and I can tell she’s not going to. I want to press her, but there’s something fragile in her right now. I feel like if I push, she’ll shatter completely.
God knows she has enough other things on her mind.
We walk toward the truck. Did I make a mistake, bringing her here? With everything else going on?
But I need to know.
I need to know what our future looks like. Whether we have one at all.
And she deserves to know, too.
A woman dressed in a tailored brown suit calls her name. Daniela looks at me, hesitant, like she’s considering bolting for the exit. I stand before she can.
“It’s the counseling session,” I say. “It’s mandatory.”
“I don’t want to.”
“They won’t process the test without it.”
She huffs. “Fine.”
“You want me to come with you?”
Her voice is small. “Can you?”
“I can do anything,” I say softly.
She smiles, just barely.
We follow the woman past the lab where Dani’s blood was drawn to an office.
“I’m Dr. Pickway,” she says. “Please take a seat.”
Daniela sits on the sofa in front of the counselor’s desk, and I sit down next to her. Perhaps too close. But she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Ms. Agudelo,” she says, nodding. “I understand you’re here for genetic testing?”
“Yes,” I say. “We’re doing the Huntington’s panel. I called earlier.”
“I was addressing Ms. Agudelo.”
Daniela fidgets. “Yes. But Hawk made all the arrangements, and I want him here for this session.”
Dr. Pickway nods. “Of course. Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”
Daniela’s fingers twist together in her lap. I hate how small she looks in that chair.
I rest my palm against the back of the sofa, close enough to touch her but not actually doing it, because if I do, I’ll want to pull her into me and never let go.
Dr. Pickway folds her hands on the desk. “Today’s session is meant to prepare you both for what comes next. The test has been expedited, so we should have results within a few days.”
A few days. My jaw tightens. It feels like a countdown I didn’t agree to.
Daniela nods once, but she keeps twisting her fingers.
“Before we get into the science,” Dr. Pickway continues, “can you tell me what prompted you to pursue testing now?”
Daniela swallows. “My father told me I carried the gene.” Her voice is so soft I barely catch it. “But I don’t know if that was true. He lied about…a lot of things.”
I reach over and still her hands with mine. I want to take all of it for her.
Dr. Pickway leans forward. “It’s not uncommon for family members to pass along misinformation—sometimes intentionally, sometimes out of fear or misunderstanding. What matters is that now we’ll know for sure.”
Know for sure.
The words hit me like a blow.
“So,” I ask, keeping my voice steady, “what should we expect while we wait?”
“The waiting is often the hardest part,” she says. “You may experience anxiety, mood swings, irritability, trouble sleeping. Sometimes couples feel distant from each other, or overly dependent. There’s no ‘right’ way to react.”
Daniela shakes her head. “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about what this means for him.” She nods toward me.
I feel my chest crack open. “Dani,” I murmur, “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” she says quietly. “I saw your face when the phlebotomist took the blood. You looked like someone ripped your heart out.”
Dr. Pickway glances between us. “It’s normal for partners to experience distress. Huntington’s carries a lot of weight. It’s hereditary, progressive, and there’s no cure. It can change life plans. Family planning. Long-term commitments.”
Daniela flinches.
I tighten my grip on her hands. “We’re not changing anything.”
She looks up at me, her eyes wide and glassy. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Dr. Pickway clears her throat. “These are exactly the conversations we’ll have today. Not to scare you, just to make sure you’re informed. No matter what the results are, people live meaningful lives with this gene. Some carry it and never show symptoms. Others plan ahead with medical, legal, and emotional support.”