“It was tough.”
A cold sweat broke out on my back and everything suddenly felt too warm, too much. For her to admit this meant things were way worse than I’d originally envisioned. This was the same woman who shot a nail through her finger during a kitchen DIY project, and instead of freaking out, took a picture first and laughed the whole way to the emergency room. “The doctors don’t think these meds are working as well as they should be. I’m going on a new cocktail next week.”
My heart lodged itself in my throat, and I pinched my lips together to keep from letting out a sob. Obsessing over worst-case scenarios really wasn’t how I tended to live my life, but this was a living, breathing incarnation of my worst nightmare. In fact, nothing else was on the same playing field.
How many other treatment options were there? What if this next one didn’t work well either? Tight tendrils of fear gripped my chest, and it took me a second to work away the stiffness and realize I was the one who needed to be strong here. I wasn’t the one who was fighting cancer, because I refused to believe she was dy—I couldn’t even bring myself to think the word.
“Do you need me to come home? I can drive back this weekend.” If I actually had PTO, I’d leave right that second with the damn dog riding shotgun in my car. My voice warbled, and I blinked away the fresh sting in my eyes. Nope, I would keep it together. This was a setback, not a catastrophe.
She sighed, and her voice took on this breathy quality that I’d never quite heard from her before, like someone who was breathing through their mouth to keep from vomiting. “No. I’d like to be alone for a few days.”
I was a three-hour car ride away, and I felt completely and utterly helpless.
“Mom, it’s no problem. I’m here for you.” I had to offer at least once more, because in all honestly, I’d lasso the moon for this woman if there was a remote possibility of that making her feel better.
“I know, sweetie. But give me a few days, okay?”
I was twenty-four years old, and I didn’t care who knew it—I needed my mommy, and I wanted to comfort her, but I wasn’t about to go against her wishes. If she wanted to be alone, I had to respect that. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away with my jacket sleeve.
Bruce whimpered softly and brushed against my leg, looking up at me with those big black eyes.
Right then, I knew in my heart it was a mistake coming to Washington, being this far away from Mom. Money meant crap if she didn’t make it past chemo. I hung up and squinted my eyes shut, the air magically vanishing from my lungs. My legs buckled and I fell to my knees in the middle of the park walkway as tears began to stream down my face. I tried to calm my breathing, acutely aware that I was in public and people were probably starting to stare. Bruce licked my cheek, and I hugged his neck, crying into his fur. He put his paw on my arm and I got the distinct sense that he was trying to protect me.
Breathe. You can’t give up or else she gives up.
I gave myself a few more moments to compose myself, wiping at my eyes, and then straightened. This was not the Lainey Taylor I’d worked so hard to become. Crying didn’t solve things, and if I was anything, I was a fixer. So I’d suck it up and do the right thing, because I was not losing her. I couldn’t. She was my best friend. Life without her wouldn’t be living.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks and looked down at Bruce’s sad face. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”
He wagged his tail and gave a toot toot toot of flatulent reassurance.
I rolled my eyes and tugged at his leash. “You’re still gross.”
By the time I got back to Brogan’s apartment, I was in no mood to deal with Bruce’s antics. If he so much as looked at my jacket or shoes the wrong way, I was just going to dump the wet food on the floor and book it out of there.
I fished Brogan’s key out of the jacket pocket and looked down at the dog, who, for the first time in our interactions, looked down in the dumps. I squatted down to his level and gave his thick head a scratch. “Don’t you know, Bruce? Ladies like men with a proper drool to butt sniffing ratio. You’re not going to have any luck with them at the rate you’re going.”
I stood, still feeling the weight of the day heavy in my shoulders, and turned the key. Pushing the door closed with my foot, I unhooked Bruce and placed the leash on the counter. I leaned against the granite and pulled out my phone once again to see if my mom had changed her mind and wanted me to come down to Portland tonight. When the screen lit up, I frowned, my phone empty of messages.
“What the hell are you doing here?” a loud, very unhappy Brogan Starr bellowed from across the room.
Chapter Ten
Lainey Taylor Rule of Life #63