Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
I watch her walk with purpose. I shut the door quietly and follow her.
Is she meeting an old high school friend? The words that have been whispered behind my back come to roost. Your wife’s been around.
No.
That was a fucking lie they knew would get under my skin.
But she’s texting someone, I know that for a fact.
She walks up a winding staircase. I follow. But she doesn’t take the left into the main hospital entrance. No, she heads somewhere else.
Is she sick? Is she hiding something from me?
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart pounding in my chest. The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor burn my eyes, but I don’t slow down. I saw which way she went.
I round the corner and spot her through a window in a door. She’s standing beside a hospital bed, her hand covering her mouth, her shoulders shaking.
That… doesn’t look like…
What the hell?
I shove the door open, ready to—
And stop dead.
The person in the bed is a young woman. A girl, really. Maybe nineteen, twenty at most. And she looks vaguely familiar.
Is that her… sister?
Jesus Christ.
She’s pale as death, hooked up to more machines than I can count—an IV drip and beeping monitors. Her hair is thin, patchy, like it’s been falling out. She’s so small under those blankets that she barely makes a dent in the mattress. She’s asleep, or…
I feel vaguely sick. I’m a right fuckin’ arsehole.
Erin spins around at the sound of the door, her eyes red-rimmed and wet. When she sees me, her face crumples completely.
“Cavin,” she whispers, and it sounds like a broken thing. My heart. My goddamn heart. She reaches for me, and I envelop her on instinct, holding her as she breaks down and cries.
All that rage, all that jealousy, all that fuckin’ stupidity, drains out of me in a single breath.
“Erin.” I feel her whole body shaking with silent sobs.
I hold her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other wrapped around her waist. “I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love.”
She cries harder, and I just hold her, letting her break apart in my arms because I can feel that she’s been holding this in for too long.
After a few minutes, she pulls back slightly, wiping at her face with shaking hands. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to—I just—I should’ve told you the whole truth.”
“Don’t,” I tell her firmly. “Don’t apologize.”
We’re not just apologizing for this, but for our stupid damn fight, and we both know it.
She takes a shuddering breath and looks back at the girl in the bed. The girl’s eyes are closed, her breathing shallow.
My chest tightens. “This is your sister.”
Erin’s voice cracks. “She’s sick, and she’s getting worse. Aplastic anemia—it’s rare. Her bone marrow’s fucked. She can’t make blood cells properly anymore.”
The words hit me like a fist to the gut.
“She was diagnosed two years ago,” Erin continues, her voice barely above a whisper. “We thought—we thought the treatment was working. But it came back, worse this time. The doctors say…” She can’t finish the sentence.
I pull her back against me, tucking her head under my chin. Over her shoulder, I look at Bridget. Really look at her. And I can see the resemblance. She has Erin’s nose. The same shape to her face, though it’s gaunt now, hollowed out by illness. She’d be a beauty, like her sister.
“That’s who you’ve been texting,” I say. It’s not a question.
Erin nods against my chest. “Her. And the doctors. And… sometimes I’m just checking her charts online. They give family access to the medical portal. I check it constantly. Looking for any changes, any updates, any—” Her voice breaks again. “Any hope.”
“Erin.” I tilt her face up to look at me, brushing away her tears with my thumbs.
“I should have told you the whole truth,” she whispers. “I just—” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ve been so scared, Cavin. I’m terrified I’m going to lose her.”
I pull her close again, and this time I press a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re not alone anymore,” I tell her. “You hear me? Whatever happens, you’re not facing this alone.”
She makes a small sound, something between a sob and a laugh. “You must think I’m such a mess.”
“I think you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” And I mean it. Carrying this weight, keeping it hidden, trying to be normal while her sister fights for her life—that takes a kind of strength I’m not sure I have.
Movement from the bed draws our attention. Bridget’s eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then land on us.
I’m not scared of fucking anything, but somehow, facing her sister and her illness has me shaking.
“Erin?” Her voice is barely a whisper, rough and weak.
Erin pulls away from me and goes to her sister’s side immediately, taking her hand. “I’m here, love. I’m right here.”