For Now (Broken Promises #1) (4 page)

Lane

“Mr. Sheridan, this is Dr. Stanley’s office. We’re calling about your biopsy results.”

“And?” I want to scream at them for not getting to the point, but I did just steal the phone from my assistant. Too late, apparently, by the look that she’s giving me.

“Mr. Sheridan-”

“Call me Lane,” I sigh, just wanting them to tell me the results. They can do that over the phone, right?

The nurse sighs and goes on, “Lane, the doctor would like to meet with you in person regarding your results.”

“So you can’t tell me anything today? Were the results positive? Am I dying?”

“Lane, I’m just a messenger. Dr. Stanley really wants to meet with you in person to go over every option.”

“Option? As in treatment options? So I’m not dying but I do have cancer?”

“Lane,” she sighs. “Can you please just clear up some space in your schedule to come in?”

“Tomorrow morning. What time do you open?”

“The first opening we have in the morning is nine a.m.,” she says after a moment of checking.

“I’ll be there,” I grunt, then hang up before she hears the emotions in my voice.

Fuck.

I can’t have cancer. Why else would they want to meet with me unless the tests came back bad? They know I’m busy. They know I don’t have a lot of free time, so why would they ask to see me just to say ‘hey, Lane, you’re gonna be fine’?

They wouldn’t. They need to talk to me in person because they found something bad. I know it. I can feel it. From the way Alexis’s mood had changed since the answered my call, she knows something too.

Shit, I wish I knew what they said to her. How do I even approach this with her?

Hey, guess I’m dying?

You’re gonna have to find a new job?

I love you. I always have, and just now decided to tell you… oh and I’ll be dead in a few months?

By the time we make it to her car she’s still not talking to me, which tells me she’s pissed. There’s only been a few times in our friendship that she hasn’t talked to me. The first was the first time that I had her breakup with a girl for me… that was also the last time she did that for me.

Now she’s gripping the steering wheel so tight that the scar on her left hand from when she cut herself last year is white as a ghost. Jesus, I know she’s mad, but in all honestly I just don’t have the energy to fight with her right now.

“So…” I need to tell her I have an appointment tomorrow, that I need the morning off, but I really don’t want to discuss why right now. “I need the morning cleared.”

“You shoot with Tommy tomorrow, Lane. Underwear ad for the billboard in New York. That’s a huge shoot.”

Fuck.

“I need to cancel. Reschedule… something…” I need out of this car. “Hey can you take me to Bray’s bar?” I just want to be numb for a while.

“Um… sure…” Her voice is full of hurt and anger. Her eyes are full of unspoken questions, but I can’t right now. I just want to drink.

Alone.

“Want me to come in?” She looks hopeful, but I can’t. I can’t sit there with her and hash out the end of my life.

Potential end of my life.

“Oh.” Fuck. Here I go, breaking her again. “Um… nah. It’s fine. Thanks, Al… you’re the best.”

Getting out of the car as fast as I can, I walk towards the door. I pray Braydon isn’t here and I can find a corner booth to drown my sorrows alone. I don’t look back as her car pulls away.

I’m not used to having this complex of emotions. I can only imagine how much of a beast I’m going to be tomorrow after my appointment if I’m already this bad and I haven’t even been given the official news yet.

Shit!

How can something like this happen to me!? I have my whole life ahead of me… I should have never went to that fucking doctor. Fuck Braydon for making me.

Jesus Christ.

About four drinks in, Braydon’s face appears in my vision. It’s surrounded by blurred lights and music I wasn’t even aware was playing. I’ve been sitting here this whole time, staring blankly at the wood grain of this old table, wondering why something like this could happen to someone so young.

I thought cancer only happened to old people.

Okay that’s not true, but it shouldn’t happen to young people. It’s not fucking fair.

“Yo,” Braydon grunts, sliding into the seat across the table from me.

“What’re you doing here?” I murmur, tilting my bottle back to find it’s already empty. “You should get me another one of these, bro.”

“You sure about that, dude? You’ve got a nice empty collection growing here. Lacy is starting to stare, and it’s only a Monday night.” Lacy… the leggy bartender that I slept with once and won’t get off my fucking back. I should have known better than to sleep with her, but she’s so fucking sexy when I’m drunk.

I stare at Braydon, my longest friend in life, then glance at my collection of bottles. Shit… I haven’t even been here an hour.

“Fuck,” I curse, then groan when I feel the pressure start to build in my head.

Lately I’ve been getting more and more headaches, and now I wonder if it’s because I’m sicker than I thought.

Shit.

“You wanna talk about it?” Braydon’s concern is well placed as he’s the only one that knows about this whole situation. They said I needed someone to drive me home from the hospital after the biopsy. Since he was the reason I went to the doctor in the first place I figured he should be the one to help me out when needed.

“Not really,” I say, closing my eyes and laying my head back on the booth. I just want to be left alone to be numb, but so far I can’t find that feeling with everything else swarming inside of me.

“You hear back from them?” He’s talking in hushed tones because he knows better than to say those words out loud in public, but I know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Yes,” I grind out, pissed that he’s making me talk about this.

“And?” Even with my eyes closed I can feel his gaze boring into me.

“Bray, I’d rather not talk about this here,” I whisper, opening my eyes to find his.

“But you’re going to have to, dude. Eventually.”

“I don’t even fucking know what the deal is, Bray!” My composure and secrecy snaps with his pushing comments. I know he means well, but he doesn’t even know the shitstorm of emotions coursing through my body right now.

“What’d they tell you?” he asks, normal toned, but eyeing me and silently telling me I need to chill the fuck down before people catch on. “And you’re fucking lucky the music is loud, dude. You’re gonna be the one that outs it before you’re ready if you don’t watch it.”

I sigh and curse, knowing just how important it is that I chill down.

“They fucking wouldn’t tell me, Braydon. I have an appointment in the morning with them to discuss the findings,” I say, sighing and shaking my head. “Fuckers wouldn’t tell me anything.”

He watches me, then takes a drink of his beer before turning his gaze to the stage where the band is starting their set. Silence. We sit there for what seems like an eternity, mulling over my words. He’s not a stupid man… he knows the probability of me having cancer just skyrocketed, but neither of us want to say the words out loud.

“I’m taking you tomorrow,” he says. I try to speak up and tell him I don’t want him there but he puts his hand up and continues. “I’m taking you tomorrow, and if it comes down to you needing… treatment… I’m taking your fucking lame ass to those too.”

“Braydon that’s not-”

“Shut the fuck up and drink some water, Lane.” He grumbles something as he motions to Leslie that we’re in need of waters. “I’m not giving you an option on this. You’re my fucking brother…. End of conversation. Let’s get you sobered up and home. Tomorrow’s going to come faster than you’d like.” He leaves it at that and we spend the rest of the night cooling off and heading home. By the time I hit my bed, I’ve already ran through every possible scenario of what’s going to happen tomorrow. I’m not a fan of any of them.

By seven in the morning, I’m definitely regretting the choice I made last night to get numb drunk. Not only did it make for one nasty ass hangover, but the pain in my back now hurts more than ever. You’d think I was a ninety year old man with how hard it is for me to move.

“Fucking shit,” I grumble, stumbling out of my bedroom. Filling up the coffee pot, I stare at my phone screen that’s blowing up.

Alexis.

Shit, I was an ass to her last night.

Sighing, I pick up the smart phone and read the messages she’s sent. I’m smiling as each one comes on to the screen.

Al
: You left your tablet in my car last night.

Al
: I’m going through and deleting the bimbo names. Hope you don’t care ;)

Al
: Hope you’re ok… and that you made it home safe.

Al
: Love you, ya asshole. I hope you’ll talk to me about whatever’s going on one day.

Fuck. She’s too good to me. She should have been pissed about last night and the way I treated her, but instead she’s brushing it off and not nagging on me about what the phone call was about or why I had to cancel this morning. This is one of the many reasons I love her so much. Like...
love love
... none of this ‘I love you because you’re my best friend’ love. The type of love that you’re afraid to tell someone about because if they don’t feel the same way your entire world would be over…
love.
I’m Lane Sheridan… I’m not afraid of too many things… but this just terrifies me.

“Hey, you ready?” Braydon’s standing in my doorway, keys in one hand and tablet in the other, ready for what’s possibly going to be a long-ass fucking day. “Ooh, coffee.” He speeds into the kitchen with his already empty to-go cup. He refills his mug, doctoring it up to just the way he likes it. Creamy and sweet. Pouring my black coffee into my mug, we lock up and head out the door.

Of course, being Lane Sheridan has its downfalls… like walking into a major hospital in the bright morning sunshine and trying to make sure people don’t notice you. Thankful for hats and sunglasses and an overly buoyant best friend. All eyes are on him and his rocker do and tattoos as opposed to the hunched over figure on his right that can’t walk correctly.

Not by choice, but because pain won’t let me.

“Right this way, Mr. Sheridan,” the nurse says smiling as she ushers me directly to the doctor’s office. “He’s waiting for you… don’t want to keep you waiting out there.” She smiles as if she’s trying to flirt, but I’m in no mood for that. I’m shaking from nerves and I think I’ve already ground down three or four of my molars this morning.

Let’s just get this over with.

“You want me to come in with you?” Braydon asks from behind me as I start into the office.

Do I? I don’t even want to be in there myself… but do I want him in there with me when I hear this news?

Yes. I do.

“I need you in here, man,” I sigh, hating that I look so weak right now.

He nods and follows me in, closing the door behind him as the doctor stands to greet us.

“Lane, nice to see you this morning,” Dr. Stanley announces, watching Braydon. “I’m Dr. Stanley,” he says, reaching his hand out for my best friend.

Braydon takes it and courteously shakes it, introducing himself as I slouch down in the chair. The minute my ass hits the seat I get a roaring pain in my side that makes me curl into myself.

“Fuck,” I hiss, pushing my hand into my side where the pain is radiating. With my eyes shut tight, I try to focus on my breathing as the pain from the attack flows through me. Every nerve ending is on fire, I feel like I could cry right now it hurts that fucking bad. I open my eyes to my best friend watching me like he’s a nine year old boy who just lost his puppy and a very worried doctor staring at me.

Maybe bringing Braydon in here with me was a bad idea. I can deal with my emotions…. I think… I can’t deal with his too.

“How often are those happening, Lane?” The doctor sits on the edge of his desk while Braydon sits in the chair next to me. If it were Al next to me she would have her reassuring hand on my arm and things would automatically start to feel better.