False Start: A Football Romance (9 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Amelia

“Miss Hart, I’ve got the blood test back, and I hate to have to tell you this, but the cancer has returned.” All air in the room has been sucked out when he delivers those last four words. I start shaking my head, refusing to believe what he is saying, and yet… I know.

I can see the difference in Carson already.

Just like last time.

He was running around, being a little boy, getting into everything, and in the next moment, everything changed. Within a week, he had lost ten pounds and could barely keep any food down.

“Chemo?” I ask, but Dr. Hill shakes his head.

“We won’t be able to start the chemo this time. Not yet, anyway.”

“Why? I don’t understand. He needs the chemo to kill the cancer.”

“I’m sorry. I wish there were a way, but unfortunately, his body isn’t strong enough to handle chemo or radiation at this time. I’m not sure how much you know about the process of chemotherapy and the way it actually works, but essentially, chemotherapy and radiation therapy generally affect cells that divide rapidly. They are both used to treat cancer because cancer cells divide more often than most healthy cells.”

I nod my head. I already know this. Hell, anyone stuck in a hospital for twenty-four hours a day can tell you how boring it gets. When I get bored, I read. It doesn’t matter what I’m reading, just as long it can occupy my mind for a little while. I can’t imagine how many brochures I read on cancer and chemo the last time Carson was in the hospital.

Hundreds, if not thousands.

“However, because bone marrow cells also divide frequently, high-dose treatments can severely damage or destroy the patient’s bone marrow. Without healthy bone marrow, the patient is no longer able to make the blood cells needed to carry oxygen, fight infection, and prevent bleeding. In short, without a bone marrow donation, Carson will not be able to have chemo or radiation therapy.”

“So what are you saying? We just sit here and wait while the cancer leeches the life from him one day at a time?” I’m yelling and crying. My arms are flailing around the room in the chaotic dance they never fail to do when I get upset. Walking across the short distance of the room, Cal wraps me in a bear-tight hold and kisses the side of my head.

“What about this bone marrow transplant? Why can’t you do that?” Callum asks Dr. Hill, and I lift my head from his chest, waiting for an answer.

“Of course we can, but first, we need to find a viable donor, and that can take time. I will put his information into the national database today and see if there are any donors whose HLA is a match.”

“HLA? What the hell is that?” Callum asks, and I’m thankful he did because I can’t for the life of me remember what the abbreviation means.

“Human leukocyte-associated (HLA) antigens are the proteins on the surface of our cells. The set of proteins called the HLA type is identified by a special blood test. Most matches aren’t usually more than a twenty-five to thirty-five percent perfect match unless the patient has a biological twin sibling, which, as you know, Carson does not.”

“And people just donate these cells?

“No. You can’t donate the cells alone, but you can donate the marrow in the bone that contains the cells needed.”

“Okay, well sign me up. Ill donate. Whatever it takes to get him well,” Callum states seriously. I could never have imagined I would hear those words come from his mouth. It is a no brainer for me to donate. I mean, Carson is my little brother. Hell, I have raised him as my own for the last five years. I would give my heart if it meant that he got the chance to live a pain-free life, but I never expected Callum to feel the same way.

“It’s not that simple. We would need to test you and see if you are a match before we are able to start the donation process. The test is simple, just a swab of the inside of your cheek, but I must caution you. The recovery process after the donation procedure can be strenuous. You may not be able to play ball.”

“Do I look like I give two fucks about playing ball right now? You said it perfectly. I
play
ball. This is his life. I want to be tested, and if I am a match, I want to donate immediately.”

“I understand, Mr. Johnson. I will get the test kit sent up as soon as possible.”

“Make sure they bring two. I want to be tested as well.”

“No.” Callum states, and I pull out of his arms and round on him, ready to fight to the death if he tries to stand in my way of helping Carson.

“I’m sorry, Miss Hart, but your condition won’t allow us to use you as a donor even if you are a match.”

“My condition?” I ask, stupefied.

“The pregnancy, ma’am.”

“Oh, I see,” I state. I can’t believe it’s come to this. Even if I wanted to donate, I wouldn’t be allowed to because of the baby growing in my womb. How is anyone supposed to make that kind of choice, or worse, live with the guilt of knowing that I might have been able to help if I weren’t pregnant?

How do you put one child’s life’s worth above another?

“I’ll get the kit sent up for your test, Mr. Johnson, and give you all a few moments to talk. I know this is a lot to process. I suggest making a list of any questions that arise, and then we can sit down and go over everything later. In the meantime, I want you to know that we are going to do everything in our power here at the hospital to make Carson comfortable.”

“Thank you, Dr. Hill. I appreciate it.” My voice cracks, betraying the emotion flowing through me right now. I don’t know how to process any of this.

“I’m going to go too,” Margaret whispers as she moves to follow the doctor out of the room.

“Go? Go where?”

“I just think it would be best if I stepped back and let you handle this. I mean, you have been here before and at least know what to expect.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Mother. I know exactly what to expect. I
expect
that beautiful little boy’s mother to want to be by his side while he his scared and in pain. I
expect
his mother to throw up her hand and demand to be tested as a possible match. I
expect
you to stay, but I can see now that I am sorely mistaken when I
EXPECT
any of those things from you. Get out of my sight. I never want to see you again.”

She doesn’t even reply, instead choosing to run from the room as soon as I am done yelling. I have never been more disgusted with her than I am right this second. I am ashamed to call her my mother. I am ashamed even to share the same blood as her.

I hate her.

“What a fucking bitch,” Callum says with as much disgust as I feel.

“Yeah. Listen, Cal, it would probably be best if you went on home too.”

“What? I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now. I want to be alone with Carson. Please, Cal. Just go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re pushing me away again. After everything that we have been through?”

“Just go, Cal. Please.”

“No. I’m not fucking leaving you. You can’t ask me to do this. Fuck, Amelia, you need me. You’re barely able to handle yourself right now. Hell, you’re supposed to be on bedrest.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t know my own damn body, Cal? I can promise you . . . I do, and right now, I know that I need to be alone. I know that if you stay, it won’t help me at all. I’m asking you nicely to go. Give me what I know I need, and maybe when my brain is done processing all this, I will call you, and we can talk.”

“You’ll call me? You will fucking call me? Are you serious right now? Have the last two days meant nothing to you?”

“Cal, go, or I will have the staff call security up here. I don’t want you here right now.”

“Fine,” he says, slamming the door behind him on the way out.

Chapter Twenty

Callum

No fucking way. She is not pushing me away again.

Except she just did.

And there was not one fucking thing I could do or say to make her change her mind.

A sob catches in my throat, tears burning behind my eyelids as I lean my head against the room door, hoping she changes her mind and rushes out to get me, but she doesn’t.

I knew she wouldn’t.

She doesn’t need me.

She doesn’t
want
me.

Well, I fucking want her. I fucking need her. I need her more than I need air to breathe. More than anything in this whole fucked up world.

Turning on my heel, I walk back toward the nurse’s station, past the nasally bitch who doesn’t know how to do her job, and out into the pouring rain. I don’t know how long I stand there. Ten . . . twenty-five minutes, rain pouring from the sky and soaking me through, and I let the pain tearing my soul from my body out. Her words have the power to break me wide open once again, and I know they would have already if I didn’t know she was full of fucking shit.

She does need me.

She is just terrified, and she doesn’t know what to do.

I can understand that completely, but where I want to tackle each and every bump in the road with her by my side, she feels the need to do it all alone. It’s a defense mechanism of hers to push everyone away at the first sign of trouble.

I’ll be damned if I let her push me anywhere.

“Cal, hey, man. What the hell are you doing?” Griffin calls to me as he climbs from his car carrying an overnight bag.

“Did she send you for that?” I ask.

“Huh?” he asks, looking around the parking lot. “Oh. Yeah. She figured they would need a few nights’ worth of clothes,” he says, lifting the bag and cradling it beneath his left arm.

“So she is still talking to you?” I ask.

“Um yeah . . . I think so. What the hell is going on?”

“I need you to do me a favor,” I say and then let him pull me inside, where I explain what the hell just happened and what I need from him. She may not want me around right now, and in a way, I understand that. I make her feel everything too sharply, too intensely, and right now, she can’t handle that, but she will let Griffin in, and hopefully, God willing, she won’t push him away too.

I need someone there to keep an eye on her.

To make sure she doesn’t get overwhelmed and end up hurting herself.

Someone I can trust.

Chapter Twenty-One

Amelia

“Amie?” Carson asks as the door slams shut, waking him from his pitiful slumber. His face is pale with splotches of red high in his cheeks from sleep. The look in his eyes shows how scared he is even if he hasn’t mentioned it yet.

Pulling back the thin white coarse bedspread, I climb in beside him, pulling him to me and kissing the top of his messy afro Mohawk.

“Hey, baby. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he whispers, his voice fighting to be heard over the beeping and pulsing of machines in the room. It kills me to hear him like this.

“Are you sure? I heard you took a bit of a hit when you fell.”

“I’m sure. Where’s Cal?”

“He had to run home, baby, but he wanted me to tell you he loves you very much.”

“Okay.”

“Listen, baby. The doctor came while you were asleep.”

“I know. I hearded him. He says it’s back again.” His dark, shallow eyes meet mine, and it takes everything in me to not turn away. I want to run from the room and the truth I see echoed in his gaze, but I can’t. Everyone else has already run. I won’t be the next one. I will never leave his side.

“Yes, baby. It’s back, but I don’t want you to worry because we are going to fight it, and we are going to beat it, again and again if we have to. I won’t let it take my baby brother.”

“Promise?” he asks as the first tear falls from his eye. He’s been trying to be strong, trying his best to hide his fear from me, but I know him better than anyone. I pull him close to my chest, and together, we both let every ounce of fear and worry out in the stream of tears.

By the time the tears are dried up, he is fast asleep again and the moon is high in the sky. A nurse came back in the room at some point and checked his vitals. Still no fever, which is a great thing. Once the fever hits, it’s a downhill battle that I’m not quite prepared to fight.

As I lay there watching the clouds cross the darkened sky through the window, I wonder where Cal is. I shouldn’t have pushed him away, but everything has happened so suddenly, and I just couldn’t process it all with him in the room with me, invading my every thought. I wonder if the doctor tested him for the bone marrow match yet or if he decided he didn’t want to since I acted like a complete bitch and threw him out.

I should call him and apologize, but I can’t.

I don’t need him rushing back in here trying to save the day, distracting me, pulling my time and attention from Carson. He is the one who needs me right now.

Everyone else can wait.