Sarah

Millie was much braver than me as the tests were performed. I know the fact that she couldn’t really understand what was going on played a factor in that, but on the inside, I was a mess, and it was my daughter that provided me with strength.

Bosco never left our sides. He was like a sentry, calm and cool, and ready to take on the world if it threatened to come near us. His own fear was evident, and oftentimes, he seemed to know a lot about what the doctor was talking about, even though I had no clue until she explained it.

“Are you okay?” I finally ask. He’s been pacing the floor for twenty minutes, his eyes straying to the clock constantly as we wait for the results of Millie’s tests.

He stops and forces a smile entirely for my benefit. “Don’t you worry about me. You just take care of our girl and yourself. That’s all I care about.”

He goes back to pacing and I watch, my hand rubbing Millie’s back as she sits in the bed, her eyes glued to the iPad the nurse had given her. “You’re making me nervous.”

His feet stop moving and his head drops forward. Finally, he stalks over to the chair and drops down into it. “Did I ever tell you about my brother?”

His question surprises me. How had I not known he had a brother? “It seems there’s a lot I don’t know about you,” I admit.

Bosco chews on his lower lip. “His name was Spencer. We were identical twins.”

“Were?” I don’t like where that word is taking this story.

He rubs a hand across his mouth and leans back. “When we were thirteen, my brother was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin lymphoma. It’s a type of cancer that affects the lymph nodes and eventually can spread to other parts of the body.”

Standing from my place on the bed, I move toward him and perch on the arm of his chair, the need to touch him taking over. I place my hand on his shoulder as he speaks.

“He fought that shit for two years, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. He died here in this hospital when we were fifteen.”

“God, Bosco. I’m sorry.”

He reaches up, his hand covering mine over his shoulder. “Being here just brings back a lot of those memories, but not all of them are bad. We had a lot of good times here, and this is where I learned what true courage looks like.” He looks toward Millie. “I just don’t want that little girl to have to develop a courage like that already. She needs to be a kid.”

I follow his gaze and watch Millie as she giggles at the screen, totally oblivious to the fear wafting off of us in waves. “We’ll be courageous for her.”

Removing his hand, he wraps his arms around my hips and rests his head against my chest. “Fucking right we will,” he whispers.

It’s another couple hours before the doctor returns with Marissa. As one, we stand, and each drop a kiss on Millie’s head and walk out the door, my hand clasped tightly in his.

When we get to the office and resume our earlier seats, I drag my chair as close as I can get it to Bosco’s. The doctor doesn’t bother opening her file this time. “It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”

Blood rushes through my veins, whooshing through my ears and drowning out the sound of her voice. I watch as her lips form the word leukemia. It’s like an out of body experience. I’m watching the nurse tell me that my two-year-old daughter has cancer. I’m watching as Bosco places an arm around my shoulder and holds me close. I’m watching as he asks questions and as the doctor responds. All of this I’m watching as if I’m but a spectator watching a program with the volume turned to white noise.

“Sarah?”

I come rushing back to the present, the sounds around me returning. The doctor and Bosco are both staring at me, concern etched on both of their faces.

“I’m sorry...what?”

“Do you have any other questions?”

I look her in the eye and ask the only thing I can think of to ask right now, the only thing that matters to me at the moment. “Is my daughter going to die?

Dr. Chisolm sits back in her chair, her face serious. “We’re going to do everything in our power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Bosco

Leaving Sarah and Millie at the hospital is hard, but they aren’t doing any more tests today. It’s getting late and the ladies need their sleep. Besides, I’ve left Reid alone with Rachel for far too long, and I need to call Ryker and tell him about Millie.

It’s after ten o’clock when I step outside. Finding a bench, I take a seat and pull out my phone. That’s when it hits me. Millie has cancer. That sweet, crazy haired, precious little girl in there has cancer, just like my brother did. I lost him, and now there’s a good chance I’m going to lose Millie too.

A tidal wave of anger washes over me, thrumming though my brain and stealing the air from my lungs. Balling my hands into fists, I look around, desperate to destroy something. Anything. I’m surrounded by a small manicured flowerbed and carefully trimmed shrubs. I jump up off the bench and pace the area in front of it, stalking first one way and then the other.

I want to rip that bench out of the ground. I want to lift it above my head and throw it through one of the hospital’s windows. I want to take every one of those shrubs and rip them out by the roots, ripping the branches into tiny little pieces.

I don’t do any of those things. I know it’s the anger making me even consider doing something so stupid, but I do need to find a way to deal with this hopeless rage I’m feeling. Throwing my head back, I scream toward the sky. I scream to the heavens until my lungs are empty and my throat hurts. I scream until every ounce of rage has been spent and all that’s left is despair.

Sinking to my knees on the cold asphalt, I ignore the couple walking quickly into the building, casting me looks filled with fear. Fuck them. With a lowered head, I say the first prayer I’ve said since I asked God to save my brother.

“God, I know you and me aren’t exactly on speaking terms. I know I only speak to you when I need something, but this time, I really need you to listen. Millie’s just a little girl. She’s a freaking baby. I hate that this stupid disease even exists, and I hate that it can kill so many people, but you need to save her, God. I need you to save her and let her live. You took my brother. Please. Please, don’t take Millie too.”

Tears burn from behind my eyelids, but I take a deep breath and take a moment to put myself back together. Just as I’m about to stand, I hear footsteps approaching.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

Turning, I see a hospital security guard standing about ten feet away, his hand on the butt of the baton at his side. I snort and shake my head. This fucker is ready to take me on, just based on my looks, of that I have no doubt. No questioning that this is a fucking hospital and someone might be outside and upset with something they’re going through.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, rising to my feet and towering over him. This son of a bitch is short.

“We’ve had a report of someone screaming out here.” I have to give the little guy credit, he doesn’t even flinch.

I cock a brow at him and take a step in his direction. “That would be me.” I don’t know why I’m picking a fight with this guy. It’s not his fault that Millie’s sick, but he’s picked the wrong time to try to intimidate me with his little stick. “There a problem with that?”

The guard doesn’t back away, but he also doesn’t reprimand me. “No,” he says, his voice lowering and his hand dropping to his side. “I was just checking that nobody was being attacked.” He stares at me for a second. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but you’re not the first guy to come out here and lose his shit.” He points to the small garden. “I’m just glad you left the flowers where they are.”

Cracking a small smile, I confess to him, “I almost didn’t.”

The guard chuckles. “Well, just the same, thanks. And if you need someone to talk to, there are some counsellors inside to help families dealing with their pain.”

Shaking my head, I extend a hand to him. He takes it in his and gives it a firm shake. “Nah. I’m good now that I’ve got it outta my system. And thanks for not being a dick.”

He laughs and looks me up and down. “Yeah. You too.”

When he walks away, I take a seat back on the bench and look down at my phone. Thankfully, it had escaped my little tantrum unscathed. Pulling up the menu, I find Ryker’s number and wait for the call to connect.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Boss Man. Sorry to call you when you’re at home, but I have to talk to you about Sarah.”

Ryker chuckles. “Yeah, Pimp told me you lost your shit over Sarah workin’ at Chrome.”

Fuckin’ bunch of gossips. Sometimes I think these assholes are worse than the women they accuse of blabbing about private shit that doesn’t concern them. “It’s not that. It’s actually about Millie.”

There’s no humor in Ryker’s voice now. “What about her?”

I tell him about the seizure and about having to call the ambulance. I tell him about the battery of tests they put Millie through all day long, and about what a trooper she’d been through every part of it.

“She has cancer, man.”

Silence echoes through the phone.

“Leukemia, actually. She starts chemo in the morning, after they do a draw on her bone marrow.”

“Jesus,” he finally groans out. “Poor fuckin’ kid. How’s Sarah?”

I sigh, and think back to the way Sarah had blanked out when the doctor had given the results. “Not good, but she’ll come around. She’s tough.”

“What about you?”

I huff out a breath of frustration. “I don’t even know, man. I love that kid more than anything, and this is fucking killing me.”

It takes Ryker a few moments to say anything. Finally, his voice low and steady, he says, “Stay strong, brother. Your girls are gonna need you.”