“Just take a deep breath.” Her hand trembled as she held onto the doorknob. Blowing out a deep breath she focused on what mattered, her health, not her pride. “Diana?” She spoke as she pushed the door in, ready to let her boss know everything she could stomach sharing.

“Cassandra, so glad to see you. Feeling better?” Diana’s cheerful voice meant she hadn’t received a stressful case yet. Typically, by nine am Diana was a mess of nerves and shouting orders at them—as if it helped them to do their job better.

Tugging the door closed she jumped at the thumping sound. Calm down, Cassandra.

“Cassandra? Are you all right?” Diana put down the pen she’d been holding and actually looked up from the paperwork sprawled across her desk. “Nervous about asking to go back out into the field already? Giselle filled me in.”

The words very gently tapped the end of a nail into her heart—the faintest crack was just the beginning of the pain she knew she’d feel not being able to help children in need in situations far worse than kids here.

“I know you get the results back from my health visits.”

“Yes, you came back clean of anything on the list. I know you don’t stay put long, which is why I assume you’ve come knocking to let me know of your next adventure request.”

“You didn’t get all the results—you weren’t allowed to.”

“You’re frightening me now. What did you come in here to talk to me about?” Diana’s brown eyes stared at Cassandra. She may as well been trying to burn a hole in her or see into her soul.

Cassandra couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down her face, not even as she sucked in deep, calming breaths. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to talk, or she never would. “I have Breast Cancer.” Saying it a second time had been no easier than the first. She slammed her eyes shut, trying to stop the floodgate of tears threatening to overtake her. Swallowing hurt, and she knew if she opened her eyes, there would be pity all over Diana’s face. Pity, she wasn’t ready to have directed her way.

“Cassandra, are they certain?”

She chewed her lower lip, bearing down so forcefully it hurt. “They’ve done multiple tests now. The mammogram found small lumps, multiple. I was told it’s aggressive, and that means they . . . I have to move fast.”

“Oh, Cassandra,” The sound of the chair clanking against the floor tiles indicated Diana had stood. Her arms wound around Cassandra. “I’m so sorry.” Diana rested her chin on Cassandra’s head—a very mothering gesture that nearly tore her apart. “I want you to take paid leave. I’ll get disability paperwork started, and you’ll receive full pay.”

“I want to work. My chemo is outpatient—same day each time if my liver can handle the treatment. I want normalcy.” She opened her eyes when she felt Diana pull away. “I have to have more to do every day than sit and wait to die.”

“You’re not to speak in that manner in this office or my presence ever again. Understood?” Diana’s mouth was set in a strict line, her eyes drawn in and a scowl on her lips as if Cassandra had committed the greatest offense known to man. “You can’t possibly wish to travel—even to other locations in the country—while undergoing chemotherapy.”

“I don’t.” Another pound of the hammer onto the nail piercing her heart. “But I want to work. Let me help with office work. If you’re going to get me disability, please allow me to come in and keep busy.”

“That would void the disability. You need to think clearly.” Diana walked back to the desk but did not sit. She rummaged through the bottom right drawer and came out with a stack of neon yellow papers. “Volunteer work. You will need to be careful, I know cancer lowers your immune system.”

“Chemo. The chemo lowers it.” She wasn’t certain why it was important she corrected Diana, but it was.

“Right, sorry.” Diana shook her head and passed over the stack of papers. “You’re going to volunteer. That will keep your hands busy and your heart full, but I’m putting you on disability leave. You’ll thank me later even if you’re furious with me now.”

“Diana?”

The other woman finally looked up before sitting back down. “What?”

“Thank you.” The words were quieter than she’d meant them. “Thank you for always being there—even when you were cajoling me to get my checkup. If you hadn’t, I’d have found out one day later. I’d not have . . .” A lump in her throat drew her to stop talking, and the quiet overwhelmed her. Again, the tears poured out, silently, but fast and strong. “I’m so..sor..sorry.” She gulped, trying to force back the air.

Diana was sitting in the chair next to her, holding her. “Don’t be sorry. I almost lost my father to cancer. It’s vicious and takes no prisoners.” She lifted Cassandra’s chin, not seeming to mind wetness from the tears. “We’re going to get you through this. I promise. You’re going to fight, and you’re going to live to a ripe old age and die from something completely unrelated—my father did.”

Something about the sentiment helped her to stop her tears. People fought cancer all the time. People survived cancer all the time. The tiniest spark of hope flared to life.

“I’m prepared to fight, but every time I say it out loud, I lose control.”

“I bet everyone suffers that way, no matter how long they’ve been battling cancer. But here’s the deal. You need to say it out loud until it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, you can’t let it break you down. Say it over and over until you no longer shrink back from it. Fight it the same way you always fight me to get clearance to visit an orphanage when I feel your services are best spent here.” Diana’s fingers dug gently into her shoulders. “Deal?”

Swallowing still felt like attempting to suck down a boulder, but she managed to calm down enough to speak coherently. “Deal.”

“Good. Now, let’s get the paperwork ready, and you can be on your way. It’ll need a mess of signatures, but I know you can handle that.”

She nodded.

“One last question, do you have a support system?”

Again with that question. “I have chosen not to share this with too many people. I am going to a support group this evening. My first one. My doctor assures me it’s a necessary step.”

“My father would have agreed. Now about this not telling people, if you are afraid, you call me. I’ll push whatever work I can to Charlene. That’s the beauty of having an assistant. I know you're used to being mostly on your own, but you shouldn’t be.”

“I’ve been told . . . multiple times.”

“Then you need to listen. I know the women you’re closest to are out of the country, but they’re just an international text away. Take the expense. It’ll do you some good.”

Cassandra was tired of hearing how she needed to speak to people about it. “I’ll think about. I’ve met someone, horrible timing, but he doesn’t seem to mind that he’s dating someone with a potential expiration date.”

“We all have one. There’s no saying when yours will be.”

“He indicated something similar. It’s new, but I feel . . . well . . . safe when I’m with him. Almost as if he’s an old friend I’ve known forever. He offered to take me or to be there for me after. To me, that’s not how to begin dating someone. For him, it seems to be something he wants, like I’m a project to take care of.”

The words were incredibly rude, but she’d been unable to understand why a man like Gabe had been taken with her. He’d denied it, yet it was still the only explanation that made sense.

“Well, the only way to find out is to take the leap. If I learned anything watching my dad battle throat cancer, it was that life is about leaps of faith. Take as many as you can. Leave no stone unturned. Have no regrets.”

One of Diana’s many superpowers was the way she said common phrases made them seem less cliché than the hundreds of ways a person had heard them before. Was it wrong to question so many people telling her to live? It can’t be.

“Diana?”

“Hmm?”

“If I need it, will you help me through my first round of chemo?” Cassandra held her breath, hoping her boss hadn’t been spouting lip service a few minutes ago.

A smile spread across her boss’s lips. “I would be honored.” She slid a Post-It notepad and black pen toward her. “Write all the information down, and I will be there.”

Her hand trembled when she grabbed the pen. Fear was her newest companion, and she’d grow used to the shakes - until she shook off the fear that felt like a new enemy.

“So, about that disability?” Setting down the pen she slid the notepad back. “Let’s get started, if I’m going to need to do this, I better do this right.”

“That is the attitude I’ve come to expect from you. I’ve got to make a call, because lord knows I don’t know these forms, but go grab a coffee and a cookie—two of both actually, make mine black.”

“You told Diana and essentially lost your job. How can this possibly be harder?” For the second time in as many hours, her heart pounded as her hand held onto a door handle. The new normal included a shaky set of nerves, and she was already sick of herself for it. Pulling outward, she wasn’t surprised to find the room a bit warmer than the hall she stood in. Cold air was dangerous for people on chemo.

“Hello, welcome.” A man with thinning gray hair, age lines on his neck and forehead and thick wire-rimmed glasses smiled wide at her. “You must be a new addition.” He extended his hand, “I’m Angelo, your moderator.”

She forced herself to smile even though all she wanted to do was run away and vomit—the same sensation she’d encountered each time she’d met new potential foster parents as a kid. Wonderful, some things never change.

“I’m Cassandra.” She shoved her hands in her coat pocket, suddenly feeling even more like the teenage version of herself.

“Please, hang your coat and help yourself to some lemonade and cookies. We’ll begin in a bit.”

Terror raced through her. If she had to take off her coat, she’d be exposed and wouldn’t be able to make a quick exit if she wasn’t comfortable.

“You’re new.” A woman smiled as she put two chocolate chip cookies onto a paper plate. “I’m Shay. I’d say nice to meet you, but we both know there’s nothing nice about why we’re here.”

“Cassandra.” She looked at the other woman, and the first thing she noticed was the plastic-like shine to her hair. She’s already started her treatments. “Was it weird, your first meeting?”

“Even weirder than my first AA,” a man supplied as he walked up and grabbed the pitcher of lemonade. “Damon. A pleasure to meet you. Don’t worry about cold feet, we all had them, and this really does help.” He wore a cap on his head, but he looked completely healthy.

She wondered what his story was. His smile was so genuine hope radiated from him—similar to what she felt around Gabe. “Good to hear it, I could use positivity right now.”

“All right, if everyone will take a seat, we can get started.” Angelo’s voice called out through the room.

Rather than move, Cassandra hung back by the table, waiting as the others sunk into chairs in the circle. Eight people sat, and there were two chairs open—which left her no choice but to take the one closest to her. A gasp caught in her throat as she lowered herself into the chair and realized the young woman beside her was little more than a teen. A wrap on her head, the mask over her mouth and the sunken quality of her eyes broke Cassandra’s heart. She had been so obsessed with worrying about herself, she’d never stopped to think about all those younger than her.

“We have a new group member today. Cassandra, can you please tell us a little about yourself? This is a safe space. You can share as little or as much as you want.” Angelo inclined his head to her. “Whenever you are ready.”

There were far too many pairs of eyes falling on her. For a moment, panic seized her, causing her mouth to gape open with no sound emerging. Finally, she swallowed and took the first step everyone kept insisting she needed to make.

“My name is Cassandra Marks and I,” she paused as the familiar shortness of breath took hold and burn of tears filled her eyes. You’re stronger than it. Prove it. “I have Stage Three Breast Cancer.” Tears slipped down her face, and she wiped at them but managed to hold herself together. She gave a small chuckle through the tears kept running down. “That’s the third time I’ve said that out loud and only the first time I haven’t broken down.”

A sea of heads nodded; they had been there.

“I was diagnosed last week. Something about my blood work. It was all so complex my brain never totally understood it, and I haven’t looked it up. I’ve had a mammogram, but we’re not removing the tumors to biopsy them further because a blood test already showed the marker. I already have the diagnosis, but I think starting chemo, sitting down and acknowledging what’s living inside me is real, is worse than the speculation fear was.” A tear slipped into her mouth. Exhaling, she closed her eyes, riding out the burn in her nose as the tears threatened to grow stronger. “I haven’t told many people, and I don’t have many people to tell. Everyone I did tell seemed to think this was essential. I’m a fighter. I was in the foster system most of the life, and now I give back to that system and help other kids to take back their lives. I’m going to fight.” Somehow, saying the words seemed to empower her. Until now, she hadn’t realized just how prepared she was to fight—she just hadn’t been prepared to die.

“Thank you, Cassandra.” Angelo picked up his glass of lemonade. “This is a very informal group. All we ask is that when someone is sharing, you listen. That being said, I think you’ll find yourself spending time with the people in this room quite often. We’re a second family, and I promise, we’re all here for you.”

“Do you, do you have cancer?” It was rude to ask, but given the circumstances, she wanted to understand everything she could.

“I do not. I lost my wife to cancer about eight years ago. It is my belief, that when setting up these groups, it’s best for the leader to be someone who can be leaned on differently.”

She nodded, knowing she invaded just a smidge of the man’s privacy. “Thank you. I apologize for the question.”

“Nonsense, it’s an excellent question.” He looked around the room. “Does anyone wish to start?”

A young man, probably in his early twenties, raised his hand. “I’ve had a really rough week.”

“Samuel, please share with us.”

The boy closed his eyes and looked down at the ground before he spoke. “The chemo isn’t working. My doctors are hesitant to start radiation.”

Tears fell from beautiful gray eyes and splashed in his lap, causing Cassandra’s throat to constrict. Samuel was dealing with the worst scenario—one she hadn’t even thought of.

“I can’t help but think they’ve given up on me.” Samuel’s voice cracked sharply on the last word. His body shook, but he did not break down. “I’m not ready for them to do that. I’m not ready for them to tell me my fight is over.”

Cassandra could only hear the sound of her breath as she watched the young man, listened to his pain. He embodied everything she was terrified of, a man who wanted to save his life and was out of options.

Her throat itched with the need to speak up, but she wasn’t sure if that was allowed.

“We’ve got you, Samuel. Promise. I’ll talk to my doctor’s and see if there’s room in the experimental trial.”

Cassandra looked next to him to see Shay resting her hand on his arm. “I feel great, and there might be a second round of trials with openings.”

“Thank you.” His lip quivered as he spoke, tears still falling down his cheeks.

“That’s right. If anyone knows of any trials, please get word to Samuel or Doctor Dresdell. We will help the doctors figure this out even if they’re struggling.”

“Is that normal?” Only when everyone turned to her did she realize she’d spoken.

“Yes. While our doctors want nothing for than to save us. Sometimes they don’t hear about everything. If it hadn’t been for another group member, I wouldn’t be completely cancer free today.” Damon smiled at her from across the circle of chairs. “Angelo meant it, we’re here for one another. No matter what time of the day, you text one of us, as long as we aren’t unable too, we’re there.” He grasped Shay’s hand in his own. “And sometimes, we find a lot more than we expected while we’re here.”

“It’s exactly why I’m fighting so much harder than this time last year. I hadn’t even realized a part of me had given up until Damon gave me a reason to push harder.”

They exchanged a quick kiss and Cassandra couldn’t ignore their swell of happiness. There could be normalcy while struggling to survive. They were proof of it.

Gabe. His name flashed in her mind. She’d been looking for an excuse to push him away, yet it appeared letting herself be with him might give her something being alone couldn’t.

“My husband left me last night.” A woman who looked to be about the same age as her boss sat two seats over, her eyes rimmed with red. “He told me he didn’t sign on to be a caregiver. It’s been two months since I was diagnosed.”

Disgust left a harsh taste in her mouth. She was contemplating if she deserved a chance at being with someone, and another person was having their world torn apart. Cassandra hadn’t meant too, but at the moment, she couldn’t focus on the people in the room with her. Their stories were too much, she wasn’t ready to learn all the hardships possibly coming her way.

Her mind wandered to Gabe and what kissing him felt like. For the briefest of seconds inside a loud restaurant, she hadn’t heard a thing. There had been nothing save for her and the man she sat with. A virtual stranger, and yet, nothing had ever seemed for more right. His touch had warmed her, calmed her even, as it had done the day they had met. There was something about him that called to her in a way that seemed straight out of a storybook. She’d heard of love at first sight, and while this wasn’t love, she knew where it would head if she did not back off. His kiss showed her that.

“Thank you for your honesty this week. Grab some more cookies, mingle. It’s my day to pick up the kids from school, so I have to leave you early.” Angelo stood, smiled and gave a friendly wave before walking toward the door.

“What did you think?” The young girl next to her asked.

“I think that if I’m candid, I’ll be rude.”

She laughed, shaking off some of the shadows that had settled over her. “Trust me, we’ve all been there. Regina. It’s nice to meet you.” She didn’t offer a hand to shake but must have noticed Cassandra had extended hers. “Sorry. I can’t really risk too many germs right now. When you’re deep into your treatment, you’ll understand.”

Another pound from the hammer into the nail wedged into her heart. At this rate, she would shatter before she left the room.

“Does it start to help?”

Regina nodded, the turban on her head slipping just a little exposing her mostly bald head. She said nothing as she resituated it. “It does. It won’t until you’ve really accepted what is happening to you—and at Stage Three, I know you’ll be starting treatment soon.” She gestured around the room at the other six who had moved from sitting in a circle to standing in one. “It’s needed. Other people, they don’t understand what this feels like. They’ll pity us, tell us they want to help, but in the end, you need people like you. Terry’s husband left out of the blue—sometimes the signs are apparent. Sometimes groups like this become chemo session buddies. Morbid, sure, but true.”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen. Cancer makes you wise.” Her sideways smile was as heart-wrenching as it was kind.

“Thirty. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”

“That’s the beauty of this group—soon you’ll have firsthand experience.”

She winced. “Can I ask you something . . . personal?”

Regina shrugged. “That’s honestly the point of these meetings.”

“Is it hard to be in a relationship with someone when you have this . . . this illness hanging over you?”

“I think it can be hard sometimes. I’ve been with my boyfriend since we were fifteen. Sure high school sweethearts are nothing, but without him, I might have given up a long time ago. Are you thinking about ending something with someone so they don’t get hurt if you die?”

Cassandra might as well have been falling backward into an enormous hole. Black threatened to overtake her vision, and the voices in the room were little more than murmurs. “I’d never thought of that. Oh my god.”

She dropped back into the chair. Cassandra had been against starting something with Gabe because she hadn’t wanted someone to be with her because she was broken or to have someone pity her. She’d never imagined she could die and hurt him. “I was so tangled up in myself, and how I was feeling, I didn’t even think what this could do to someone if I died.” Not having a family reared its ugly head once more. With no one to care about her, she hadn’t had a moment to realize her death could actually hurt someone.

“I think if you’re the one running from the relationship there’s a good chance they’ve already thought about the hard fact of your death. Don’t run. Love makes you stronger, and we need that. Shay and Damon aren’t just some random success story.”

Her hands tingled again like they had in Judy’s office. It wasn’t a symptom of anything other than her panic. Turning, she stared at the couple in the group, noticing the way they fit together with their hands intertwined and Shay’s head on Damon’s shoulder. Love brightened their smiles.

Do it. Cassandra spoke to herself before she’d even thoroughly thought about what it was she doing. Lay all the cards on the table and if he’s in, don’t push him away. What if he’s the one to save you?

“Thank you, Regina. You’re right. Cancer does make you wise. It’s not much, but you’ve helped at least me tonight.” She wished she could hug the young girl, but didn’t dare risk seeming insensitive to the concern of germs.

In a short moment, Cassandra went from thinking talking to people suffering from cancer was too much to handle, to realizing exactly why Judy and Diana insisted she go to this group. She was still wary, but she understood. They had experience Cassandra wouldn’t. She would learn and hopefully teach someone when the time was right. This was the point of being with others like herself. Walking away from Regina, she stood just far enough away from the others not to intrude. “Excuse me?”

Six eyes landed on her.

“I wanted to say thank you. I didn’t speak to all of you, but I am grateful something like this exists. It’s funny, I thought I wouldn’t be even remotely interested in returning, but I am. Already.”

“Glad to have helped. I’m Toby.” An older man, obviously past his sixties, waved at her. “Care to join us for dinner?”

“I’d love too, but thanks to Regina, I’ve realized there’s something else I actually need to do. Next week?”

He nodded, warmth shining from his almost brown-black eyes.

She turned, letting out a breath. Stopping just before the door, she pulled her phone from her jeans pocket and sent a text message to Gabe asking if he’d meet her for a walk. Everything was changing, but it didn’t mean things had to fall apart. Not unless she let it.