Broken Dreams (Broken Series) (9 page)

Maybe if you told him about the leukemia, he wouldn’t push so hard,
a voice said in the back of my mind.

Shut up.

And now I was talking back to the voices in my head. I must be clinically insane. The leukemia was obviously messing with my brain function.

I blew out a labored breath and continued to run. I made a left on Standpipe Road and realized I was only a mile away from the farm house Wolfe was renting. I might not want to talk to someone, but the truth was, I needed a non-partial party to vent to. And since a therapist wasn’t available, Wolfe would be the next best thing.

Six minutes later, I knocked on his door and rested my hands on my knees on his porch, trying to regulate my breathing.

The heavy oak door swung open. “Rainey?”

“Hey, Wolfe,” I said as I looked up.

His tall stance was only barely framed by the door. He probably had to duck his head to go through the doorway and I smiled at the thought. I had never paid much attention to him before, mostly because he was Gabby’s husband, which meant he was off-limits. His green eyes were darker than my own, more aged and wiser. They were in stark contrast to his jet-black hair that was long enough to remind me of Shaggy from the Scooby-Doo cartoon I’d watched as a kid.

He smiled at me. “Come on in,” he said, pushing the screen door open with a loud creak.

“Thanks,” I replied. I wandered into his house and noticed it was not well lived in. There were no pictures hanging on the walls, no frames adorning the bookshelves that lined the far wall. There were, however, plenty of books. Aside from the bookshelves, paperbacks lined the two end tables and even the small round kitchen table.

“Sorry about the mess,” Wolfe mumbled as he cleared away some space at the table. I stifled a laugh as I watched him haphazardly carry an armload of books to the coffee table in front of the couch. “Please sit
.
”
H
e gestured to the wooden chairs at the table and dropped a few books onto the floor.

“Do you want some help?” I moved toward him but his glare stopped me.

“Stay right there!” he commanded. He tried to ease the remaining books onto the table but finally got fed up and just tossed them on the couch. “Fuck it,” I heard him mumble. He turned to me with a smile. “Want something to drink?”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer and laughed out loud. “Sure,” I managed to get out in between laughs and gasps for air.

Wolfe grinned and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and a beer. He held both out for me to choose. I grabbed the water and he popped the tab on his brew and plopped down in the chair next to mine.

“So what’s up, girl?” He took a long swig of his beer and then eyed me suspiciously.

“I don’t know. I just needed to vent to someone, and not the usual someone,” I confessed.

“Finally. Does this mean I get to know your secret?” he asked hopefully.

“How do you know I have a secret?” I was incredulous. I thought I hid it well.

“Oh, come on, Rain. You can’t be serious…”
H
e stared me down for a few moments, gauging my response. “Okay, first, you never drink, and when you do, it makes you sick. Second, you went to Boston for ‘work
.
’”
H
e used air quotes around the word
work
. “Plus, you don’t seem all that healthy.”

I was ready to combat him verbally until he said that. “What? I’m at the lowest weight I’ve ever been,” I argued.

“That’s what I mean. Gabby has photo albums of you guys as teenagers and you look vibrant and healthy. Now, you sort of look like Joe did. Sallow and sickly.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly that I couldn’t reply right away. Obviously, I wasn’t hiding my illness as well as I thought.

“You’re right. I have leukemia,” I told him.

His brows rose. “I didn’t think it was
that
bad,” he whispered, pushing his beer away and grabbing my hand. “What are they doing for you?”

“Everything they can. It was controlled very well for a while, but now it seems to be back, although I haven’t confirmed that with the doctors yet. I was tested the other day but haven’t heard back yet,” I explained.

“Have you told Baker?”

“No.”

“Why not?” he questioned.

“I’m not sure,” I answered. It was the most honest answer I had. I didn’t really
know
why I was so adamant that Baker not know exactly what was going on with me.

“Well, you probably ought to tell him. Imagine if you died and he never knew the truth.”

“Wolfe! That’s a little rude,” I reprimanded him. I pulled my hand away from his grasp.

“Bullshit. That’s the real world. How would
you
feel if he had cancer and never told you and then he died one day without ever telling you the truth? You’d resent him,” he said.

I
looked away from his burning eyes, knowing he was right. I fidgeted with the paper label of my water bottle and bit my lip. He was right, of course. I didn’t want to admit it to him, but his words were plain as day.

“I’m not trying to be an ass, Rainey
.
” Wolfe reached over and squeezed my hand
again. “I’m just pointing out what it would be like for you if the situation was reversed.”

Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them away. I glanced up at him and saw no pity, only understanding. He was a man who
had
lost the one woman he wanted in life, so he knew exactly how Baker would feel if he lost me. My heart flip-flopped in my chest at the thought of Baker mourning me. He would never forgive me, or himself, for that matter.

“You’re right,” I whispered. I put my head in my hands and let the tears fall.

I could
feel Wolfe’s growing awkwardness as I cried in front of him. He patted my back uncomfortably while I sobbed. If I wasn’t so dejected and depressed, I might find it hilarious that Wolfe was trying to soothe me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stare at the ceiling while he pet my shoulder like he would a cat.

I wanted nothing more than to be alone, but I was grateful for Wolfe’s presence. His odd way at comforting me was actually working. My chest ached with the weight of a thousand pounds, but the tears eventually slowed and stopped. I rubbed my puffy red eyes and chanced a glance at him.

Wolfe smiled at me. “Better?”

“Actually, yes,” I replied.

“Thank God,” he groaned, pulling his hand away from me and walking over to the living room to fetch a box of tissues. He handed them to me and leaned against the counter in his kitchen while I wiped the tears away in an attempt to not look like I’d just been crying.

“How do I look?” I asked him, planting a weak smile on my face and staring at him intently.

Wolfe didn’t miss a beat. “Gorgeous,” he responded with a straight face. I could see the glimmer of a smirk under his serious
expression
, though.

I burst into laughter. “You are something else,” I said, more tears squeezing out under my eyes. At least these weren’t the depressed tears.

“I try,” he commented. He walked over to me and pulled me up to stand.
He wiped away a stray tear from my cheek and looked me in the eye. “Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice coupled with the fear in his eyes had me smiling at him. “I’m fine, Wolfe. I will eventually get through this. And I
will
tell Baker,” I promised.

He nodded at me and pulled me in for a hug. We stood there for several minutes and I let go of all the stress I‘d been holding tightly to over the last few weeks.

Joe’s death had been particularly difficult for me, mostly because it made me realize my own mortality. Add the stress of a new relationship, even with someone as easy-going as Baker, and I was bound to have a breakdown sooner or later. Now I just needed to get back to Baker’s place and apologize to him. Then I would tell him everything. No more running.

I pulled away from Wolfe. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“Anytime.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Now go tell him the truth,” he encouraged.

My phone buzzed from inside my pocket. I held up a finger at Wolfe while I pulled it out. I recognized the number as one of the lines from the doctor’s office. Dread flooded through me. They wouldn’t call so quickly unless they found something.

“Hello?” I said after I pressed the answer button.

“Miss Daniels, this is Marie from Doctor Hansen’s office. We’ve gotten the results of your blood work and we need you to come in right away,” she said.

I sucked in a breath. “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said, clicking off. I turned to Wolfe. “Can you take me to the doctor’s?”

“I think Baker should take you, Rainey
.
”
H
e put his hands up defensively.

“There’s no time. I need to get over there and figure out what the hell is going on,” I protested. “Please, Wolfe.”

He sighed. “Okay. Let’s go
.
”
H
e grabbed his keys off the counter and led me out of the house.

I sat in silence while Wolfe drove me. A wave of nausea hit me and I had to take several deep breaths before I felt like I wouldn’t puke. I closed my eyes and bit my lip, certain I was about to face my death.

“Rainey?” Wolfe asked. I opened my eyes and realized we were at the doctor’s office and Wolfe was looking at me with a worried expression on his face. He must have called to me a few times.

“Here I go,” I said with fake bravado.

I pulled open the door and Wolfe started to exit the truck, too.

“I need to do this alone,” I said, putting my hand up, gesturing for him to stay. He nodded at me with understanding, although I could tell he wanted to be there for me. I needed to do this alone.

I walked up the three steps into the building and
went to the receptionist’s desk. She recognized me immediately.

“Miss Daniels! Come on in. We’ve got a room ready for you,” she said, standing and opening the wooden door for me to go straight to the back.

The examining room was small and I sat in the chair next to the table, fear coursing through every bone in my body. They wouldn’t have called me in unless things were worse, so at least I was prepared.

I didn’t have to wait long, either.

“Lorraine,” Doctor Hansen greeted me, a clipboard in hand. He closed the door behind him and took the rolling seat that was tucked under the computer desk in the room. He smiled at me and I was frozen in place. I gulped loudly and waited for him to tell me my fate.

“As I’m sure you can imagine, the leukemia is back,” he explained. “The problem is that it’s come back so fast, I’m doubtful more rounds of chemo will do much good. I want to stay positive, but I’m afraid that this time, the leukemia has come back fighting. Your body isn’t going to be strong enough to handle the necessary treatments…”

He kept speaking but I was already checked out. He was giving me a death sentence. When the doctor didn’t have much hope, it meant I was screwed.

“How long?” I interrupted him.

“Lorraine, there are some things we can do to prolong–”

“
How long?
” I asked a little more hysterically.

Doctor Hansen blew out a breath. “Three months.”

My eyes widened and my hands were suddenly clammy. I gasped for air as his words registered. I felt like I was hyperventilating. Doctor Hansen handed me a brown paper bag from a cabinet in the room and instructed me to bend over and breathe into the bag. In a few minutes, I was calmer.

When I sat back up, Doctor Hansen looked at me sadly.

“There are things we can do,” he said again.

“But all it would do is prolong it, right? And with chemo, I’d be sick,” I replied.

“Yes. Chances are, you’d be too sick to do much of anything. But you could extend your life well into next year,” he encouraged me.

“So, it’s either three months of tiredness but being able to do what I want or several more months being permanently attached to an IV and being stuck in a hospital. Those are my options?”

Doctor Hansen looked at his clipboard. “Yes. I wish there was more we could do. I strongly suggest you get a second opinion, but I’m nearly positive the results will be the same.”

“I’m going to forgo treatment, Doctor Hansen. If you have any meds that will help with pain at the end, I would appreciate it, but other than that, I’m not going to give up today when I have three months to live,” I informed him.
I would get a second opinion, like he suggested, but I doubted it would be different.

He didn’t show surprise to my decision. Instead, he turned to the computer, typed out a few notes
,
and then turned to me. “I’ve sent a script over to the pharmacy for you. You can pick it up today. I would like you to come in once a week for checkups. Sometimes, we’re wrong about the dates, but the only way to know for sure is to keep doing blood
work and tests.”