“Mr. Rhys-Gallagher, I’m Dr. Delanoy. We ran some tests and luckily the white substance was Sodium Lauryl Sulfoacetate, like bath salts, and is not harmful—”

“Thank you for your time, Doctor,” I said, buttoning up the new shirt Finnick had gotten for me to change into. I was more than ready to leave. The very last place I wanted to be was in a hospital. “As you can imagine, I’ll be needing your discretion.”

“Mr. Rhys-Gallagher, wait!”

I paused, looking at the older man behind me. “For what?”

“Have you had any feeling of heaviness in your scrotum? A dull ache in the abdomen or your groin?

“No, I have not,” I answered, facing him completely. “And why would you be asking me that?”

“Please sit down, Mr. Rhys-Gallagher. Is there any history of cancer in your family?”

“No, there is not. And I’d rather stand,” I said, not sure what the hell was happening. No, I did, I could tell from the blank, yet calm expression he had on his face. However, I refused to believe what he was trying to say to me. “Are you trying to tell me I have cancer? Me? Dr. Delanoy, I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I run and exercise four times a week, I eat so healthily it’s actually sad. There is no way in hell I have cancer.”

“Please sit down, Mr. Rhys-Gallagher,” he said again, taking a seat opposite the bed. He waited until I finally took a seat.

“The good news, and while it might not feel like good news, believe it is, we caught this very early, and that gives us a better chance at fighting this. Pancreatic cancer needs to be treated quickly and aggressively—” He went on, showing me the x-rays they’d done when I’d first come in, along with the blood test. He just went on and on, and I heard him, but I couldn’t actually comprehend what he was saying.

“What are my chances with surgery?” I asked. It felt like I was watching myself speak, like an out-of-body experience. I was numb.

“Stage 1A pancreatic cancer means it’s completely inside your pancreas and is more or less two centimeters in size. The five-year survival rate for people with this type of cancer is about twenty-seven percent, however, we still need to run more tests and—”

Everything after twenty-seven percent sounded like background noise. I was waiting to wake up, waiting for this nightmare to end, to go home to Luella and Alaric.

Fuck. What was I going to say to them?

What was I going to say to Alaric? How many times had he begged me not to get sick? But I didn’t feel sick. I felt fine. I didn’t understand. So how could I expect a little boy to? And what about Luella? Another sick Rhys-Gallagher. She had to watch out for and take care of Donovan and now me too? What kind of life was that? What kind fate was that? Did fate even exist at this point? The moment she found out, she’d break down, and all I could see was her and Alaric crying. I was causing them pain. I wanted them to experience nothing but joy, and I was going to add to all the pain they’d already experienced. I had a twenty-seven percent chance of being here, with them, alive, in five years. So, if I was lucky, I’d see Alaric make it to double digits? But what if I wasn’t lucky? I could be dead in months.

All these years, I fought to be healthy, to avoid the mistakes my family had made, and still, I was going to die young? Maybe we’re just cursed. Maybe, we just aren’t supposed to grow old. But I wanted to. I wanted to grow with her, with them, so badly.

“Mr. Rhys-Gallagher, we’re here.”

I glanced out the car to see Luella’s apartment building, and Finnick watched me carefully, holding the door open. When did I even get here? When did I leave the hospital?

“Thank you,” I whispered, getting out.

“Sorry, sir, but are you all right?”

“Don’t worry about tomorrow, Finnick.”

“Goodnight, sir,” he said, and I just nodded, walking up the stairs. I punched in Luella’s code, and the front door opened.

Walking up the stairs, I wasn’t sure what to do or say. I tried to think of what would come next, but I kept seeing Donovan’s face as he signed that DNR, as he was dying. How weak and sick he looked. Was that how I was going to look while on chemo? Was she going to have to look at me that way?

I didn’t want that.

It was strange having to knock on her door. I couldn’t remember the last time I had to knock on a door. The moment I did, she opened it with a large smile on her beautiful face.

“Welcome back!” She grinned.

“Hi—”

“Daddy!” Alaric ran over, hugging on to me tightly. He was like a little bowling ball to my legs. Placing my hand on his head, he grinned as he looked up at me. It was only then did I notice he had a bandage on his check and a few on his hands.

“What happened?” I asked quickly, bending down to look him over.

“Tell him.” Luella crossed her arms, her expression stern as she stared at him.

He hung his head and signed “I got in a fight.”

“He what?” I looked back up at her.

Frowning, she nodded.

“Alaric.” I tapped his shoulder, forcing him to look at me. I signed back “Why?”

His lip quivered, and he opened his mouth to speak but he just couldn’t, leaving Luella to translate. “I went to school and told everybody you were my dad, and they didn’t believe me. I kept telling them, and they kept calling me a liar. Then Andy said his dad called you a filthy pig, so I hit him and…”

He stopped, trying to clean his face, and I gave him my handkerchief. I didn’t even cringe when he rubbed his runny nose on it.

He got into a fight defending me. I couldn’t help but be proud of him. “Alaric, why are you crying?”

“I’m angry and sad.” He smacked his hands harder then he needed to.

“I am your dad, and I’m not a filthy pig. So, you were right. When you’re right, you don’t cry.”

He thought about what I said and a smile slowly bloomed on his face. “I was right.”

Luella coughed. “The fighting.”

“But you didn’t need to use your fists to prove that,” I added.

“Sorry,” he muttered, though he didn’t seem to be.

Luella said, “Just because you are suspended doesn’t mean you don’t have homework. Say good night.”

“Night.” He hugged us both and ran to his room.

“He was suspended? What about the kid who started it?” I asked, now fully in the living room.

“Oh, believe me, his mother and that damn principal got an earful.” She fell on the couch. “I also got fired.”

“Fired?” I asked, sitting next to her.

“Alaric was upset, and his teacher was just being… I had to leave work. I planned to use my break, but when I got there, I had to sit for a conference. By the time I got back, my boss was pissed. I’ll give it a day before I go back and beg.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

She thumbed the remote, turning on the television.

“Of course, sources are saying that Dorian Rhys-Gallagher, CEO of Rhys-Gallagher National, was not only on the list of clients who used escorts from the House of L, but also has a child. This comes on the heels of the current shutdown of twelve E&E stores in the city, protestors are now gathering outside his…”

I turned it off.

“You seem to have a lot on your plate,” she said dryly. “If you want to tell them—”

“It will blow over soon.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like everything is snowballing.”

Taking her hands in mine, I kissed them. “Everything will be fine. We’ll get through this and then get on with our lives.”

She put her head against mine. “Our lives. I like the sound of that. Is it too soon to give you a drawer or something?”

“I’ll happily take whatever you give me,” I whispered, kissing the top of her head. I wouldn’t tell her. Not today at least.

Too much had happened, and I didn’t want her to look at me differently. Right now, the only thing keeping me sane was her and Alaric. Feeling her arms wrapped around me, knowing she fully and wholly depended on me, made me want to hang on to what we had.

“Let’s take that tour tomorrow,” I whispered.

She looked up at me. “Tour?”

I nodded. “Remember you wanted to take me on a tour of the city? Let’s go tomorrow. You, me, and Alaric.”

“Are you sure? What about the office—”

“I’m sure.”