Thirty-Six
Porter
These rooms were not meant for families of our size.
At Brielle’s insistence, I was the lucky bastard who got to sit on the hospital bed with my niece, while Asher sat in a hard chair near the bathroom door.
Bri was admitted to the oncology unit five hours before.
My heart squeezed in my chest. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around all of this.
The mood in the room was somber. Bri fell asleep twenty minutes ago, and with it, the false happiness left. Now everyone was simply feeling scared.
When we left the townhouse, Asher had to physically pull the keys from my hand. I needed to call my mom, get the story, and I couldn’t do that while driving. Not if the news was worthy of the franticness in Asher’s eyes.
I would have teased Asher on her road rage—she had a few choice words for drivers not doing what she wanted them to do—but I was too focused on the words Mom was telling me through the phone.
Shortly after they got home to San Diego, Cael and Sydney noticed something was off with Bri. They took her to her pediatrician, who sent them straight to the pediatric hospital.
No answers. At least, none that were worth sharing over the phone.
It was McKenna who greeted us in the hospital parking structure.
McKenna who hurriedly walked us toward the elevators.
McKenna who first said the words, “Oncology Unit.”
I had stopped. Just…stopped.
Asher was the first to notice, she and Ken only a few steps ahead. She came back and took my hand, squeezing it, before pulling me along.
Everyone was in the private room decorated with brightly-colored circles. There was a flat screen TV for Bri, as well as one on the far side of the room, where I assumed parents would sleep.
Shit, what would they do with the boys? Would Sydney stay here with Bri?
Surely Bri wouldn’t be here on her own. She just turned three!
Right now, the boys were in the unit’s playroom, playing with some person who called herself a Child Life Specialist. Brandon was seven; he knew what was going on. He didn’t want to leave the room but after a talk from Caleb, he took both his brothers’ hands, and followed the woman.
…Leaving the room filled with adults.
I felt bad laying here with Bri; I could see that Sydney wanted to be here. Hell, I could see that Cael wanted my spot.
And I’d give it to them.
In a minute.
I looked down at the tiny redheaded girl beside me. God, she looked so much like Sydney. Bright red hair, tiny fairy features. She was such a girly-girl with her frilly tutus and need for braids in her hair.
Elsa braids, she called them, even though her hair was more akin to Anna’s.
Which only served to remind me of her Brave streak at two, when she cried because she didn’t look like Merida.
If she would wake up right now, opening those eyes of hers, they would be bright blue—a recessive gene on Caleb’s part, because neither Cael nor Sydney had blue eyes.
When the door to the room opened, every head turned.
The head doctor stepped in, closing the door behind him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Prescott,” he said, nodding at my brother and Sydney, who stood the moment he walked in. Sydney was a small woman, but she looked even smaller right now, with Caleb’s arms wrapped around her. Caleb had managed to stay stoic, but Sydney had been crying softly since the moment we walked into the room nearly an hour before.
I moved to get out of the bed, gently dislodging my niece from me. She sighed in her sleep but remained napping. I moved past my sisters, Parker, and Jonny, and toward Asher.
She stood and, quietly, I shifted her to sit in the chair she’d been in, pulling her down into my lap.
I tried to pay attention to what the doc had to say, but my eyes kept landing on the sleeping form of Bri. She looked fine.
Nothing looked wrong with her.
Surely nothing could be wrong. Maybe this was all a mistake.
A false positive.
When we arrived, Caleb gave as much of the story as he could, as his wife cried beside him.
Bri had been constipated for a few weeks, but nothing that fiber supplements couldn’t help. Before leaving for Wisconsin, she had a slight fever, but nothing that concerned them. She was fine at the lake house
But after they landed in San Diego earlier, they noticed how weak she’d gotten—and more than just typical four-year-old antics.
A blood panel was taken. The preliminary results were cancer.
Fucking cancer.
She wasn’t sick!
Asher squeezed my forearm that was locked around her and I realized I was beginning to shake. I tried taking a calming breath through my nose while Ash rubbed her hand along my arm.
But it was Sydney’s quiet cry that brought me fully back.
I snapped my head toward my brother and sister-in-law, watched as Caleb nodded to the doc as he left, saw my big brother clenching his jaw and swallowing hard, and Sydney turned into him, sobbing.
There wasn’t another word.
Shit.
Asher
Neuroblastoma.
High-risk neuroblastoma.
It killed me to look around this room, watching, as the family that came to be my own, broke down in different stages of grieving, all while the little girl in the hospital bed slept soundly. My heart ached for this family, but more, it cried for the redhead who couldn’t help but mark her little self on you.
I looked over my shoulder, taking in Porter’s pained expression. His eyes hadn’t left Brielle for hardly more than a second. Speaking of, they moved from her to me.
I didn’t even bother giving a reassuring smile; there wasn’t enough reassurance in the world.
Bri’s survival chances were slim. There were tests and procedures they could do for her, but this…this…cancer…had spread quickly, and far.
“Walk with me,” I said quietly. I watched as Porter’s eyes flitted around the room, and I rubbed his arm. “Please.” I stood from his lap and offered my hand, slightly surprised when he stood and took it.
“We’ll be right back,” I told the room, but first, pulling Porter to Bri. I leaned down and kissed the little girl’s temple and Porter ran his hand through her hair.
Porter wasn’t going to break down in front of his family.
But he was going to break down.
He loved that girl something fierce.
Quietly, we walked out of the room and through the HOT—Hematology Oncology Transplant—Unit. The nurses and staff were all over, some down the halls, coming out of rooms. Others were at the desk, bald children coloring while sitting on their laps.
How the staff managed to stay so upbeat was beyond me.
Porter didn’t say anything until we were in the closed space of the elevator, just he and I.
“Fuck.” His head was resting on the wall and his eyes were pinched tight.
It was as if his one word, paired with the two of us alone, gave permission to the emotions swirling in my own mind. I moved to him, hugging his waist tightly as I buried my head into his chest, my eyes finally burning. For a moment, I worried that I was broken in that way too—that I couldn’t feel true tears for what the Prescotts were going through.
Porter moved, reaching past me, until the elevator jarred to a stop.
Then he enveloped me in his arms but it wasn’t the embrace that had my heart stuttering; it was the shaking through his body, the tremble in his breath.
“She’s gonna be okay. She’s gotta be okay,” he mumbled into my shoulder. I couldn’t hold the burning back; tears filled my eyes.
I pulled back from him and reached for his face, lifting it so I could stare up at him.
His eyes were red-rimmed but still, he hadn’t cried.
“God, I hope so,” I whispered up to him.
Please, God. Listen to me now…
***
Porter and I returned with a coffee traveler and after a few hours—where the boys came back and sat in the bed with their sister, watching cartoons—we were warned of visiting hours.
There was a hotel nearby that Ryleigh secured for the lot of us, but it was evident no one wanted to leave this room.
“You guys can come back at eight,” the kind nurse told the room. “Mom and Dad, you’re welcome to stay, but the boys will have to leave overnight, too.”
Ryleigh and Noah offered to take the boys to the hotel with them so Cael and Sydney could stay with Bri. I watched as the two of them were torn with what to do. In the end, Brandon, Brody, and Brooks left with the rest of us.
Now though, Porter and I were alone in our hotel room. We lay in the bed, barely touching, but every now and then, his fingers would brush mine, as if he needed to be alone but wanted the slight contact.
When we got into the room, the only light that was turned on was by the door. Now, with the summer sun gone, the room was dark, but for that one orangey-glow.
I turned my head to look at Porter. He was looking straight up at the ceiling, in the same way he had been when we first fell into the bed nearly an hour before.
Without looking at me, he rolled away and off the bed. “I’m going to shower.”
I pushed myself to sit, pulling my knees up to my chest as I watched him. “Okay.”
My heart broke for him.
It broke into a million little pieces.
And as much as it hurt me in other ways, his distance, I would give him his space. I knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
I heard the shower running and I looked around the bare room. We didn’t bring anything with us. While the car did have our suitcases, when we reached the airport, they been forgotten about. We got on the first plane we could and, honestly, this was the first I realized we didn’t have bags.
I glanced toward the bathroom.
Sighing, I pulled out the pen and notepad from the nightstand drawer beside me and scribbled a note. Be right back.
I placed it in the middle of the bed and, after grabbing a key card and the keys to the rental car, headed out.
***
I returned from Target nearly thirty minutes later, and Porter was still in the shower.
I deposited my bags—toiletries and a change of clothes for both of us, for tomorrow—on the bed, and stepped to the bathroom. I knocked once before pushing the door open. “Porter?”
I could hear the water slamming around him, but there was no movement otherwise. Frowning, I moved inside. The shower had a glass door and all I could see was Porter’s bare backside to me as he stood, leaning into the wall.
His shoulders were shaking.
“Oh, Porter,” I mumbled, my heart further shattering.
I quickly lost my clothes and stepped into the shower behind him, wrapping my arms tightly around his shaking form. I pressed my cheek to his back but it wasn’t long before he unwrapped my arms from his side, turning so he could crush me to his front.
And he cried.
He cried into my hair as the water fell around us.
He cried for the little girl he loved, who he knew he was losing.
And I cried with him.