“But it’s something.”
He nods a solemn movement. “The chemo hasn’t worked, Evie. The tumor’s grown. They’re…they’re stopping Casey’s treatment.”
Oh God, no.
“No.” I gasp. Tears start to run down my face.
Adam’s hands grip me tighter, pulling me back to him.
“No, there has to be something they can do. Wh-what about more chemo or a new drug they could try, or a clinical trial? There has to be something!”
Dad shakes his head again. “Dr. Hemmings told me he would check again on the national database for a clinical trial. But he told us not to pin too many of our hopes on it.” Dad blows out a breath. “You know how much Dr. Hemmings loves Casey. If there were something he could do for her, he would.”
Everyone loves Casey. No one more than Dad and me though.
“Daddy…”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He gets to his feet. “It’s not the doctor’s fault. He’s done everything he can for her. He’ll keep her on the drugs to make her as comfortable as possible until…”
She dies.
“No.” I turn in Adam’s arms, and he wraps them around me. I sob in his shirt.
Adam holds me tight, not saying a word. What could he say that would make this right?
Casey is going to die.
I’m going to lose my sister.
I curl my fingers into Adam’s shirt, clinging to him.
How can I go from being so happy to feeling the worst I have ever felt in my life?
This is worse than when Mom died because Casey is still here. She’s so young, and we’re going to have to watch her die.
I feel my dad’s presence behind me.
His hand touches my back. “Evie.”
Adam releases me, and I turn to my dad. He’s not crying. He’s being strong. But I can see in his eyes that it’s killing him.
I fall into his arms. “We can’t just let her die.” I cry. “We have to do something.”
“If I could do something, baby, I would. I swear to you.”
I blink up at him. “How…long?”
“Maybe four months at the most.” Tears fill his eyes this time.
“Then, there’s still time. We can find someway to save her. Maybe a new drug will come on the market.” I can feel hope trying to fight in me.
Dad’s eyes flicker to Adam behind me. Then, his hand comes to the back of my head, tilting my eyes to his. “It might. Hold on to that hope, and so will I. We’ll keep praying that something happens to save her.”
I stay in Dad’s arms for a long time. Adam goes to the kitchen and starts to make coffee.
I just want to be with my sister right now, so I leave my dad and Adam.
I walk down the hall to Casey’s room and quietly open her door.
She’s lying on her bed, facing the window. She looks so tiny there.
She is tiny and so young.
She deserves to have a life, a long life.
We lost Mom. Haven’t we lost enough without losing Casey, too?
Kicking off my shoes, I climb onto the bed behind her and put my arm around her.
She turns her head, looking back at me. “Hey,” she says.
I bite my lip to stop from crying, blinking the tears away. I need to be strong for her. “Hey.”
“Dad talked to you?”
“He did.”
She lets out a slow breath and blinks up at the ceiling. “I…don’t feel ready to die yet, Evie. I know Mom’s up in heaven, and I want to see her, but I don’t want to leave you and Dad.”
My heart cracks wide open.
I rub the tears from my eyes. “You’re not going to die,” I tell her. “Mom won’t let it happen. She loves you, but she doesn’t want you up in heaven with her. That’ll mean she has to start picking up after you again.” I smile at her, trying ease things a little.
Casey laughs softly. Her little giggle reminds me of when she was a baby, and I used to sit for hours with her, making her laugh. The memory hurts. It hurts so badly.
She curls her hand around mine, and I feel her tiny fingers hook onto my ring.
I freeze.
She lifts my hand and examines it. Then, she looks at me, her eyes wide. “You got married?”