While I have a hazy, imprecise understanding of what I want out of life, I couldn’t articulate it if I tried. My plan for the future is vague and amorphous, filled with terms like “one day” and “eventually.” Like an apparition you see out of the corner of your eye that vanishes when you try to grab it.
I want to get married eventually—that much I know for sure. And if I’m a carrier, that has consequences for both of us, not just me. It could even impact how many children we have. What if I can’t have kids in time? Or what if I do, and then I get sick?
Deep down, I know it’s irrational to get ahead of myself before I get tested and receive the results. There’s a decent chance I’ll be BRCA negative. But what if I’m not?
I’m spiraling and I can’t help it. There are too many unknowns—and many of them are terrifying.
Fueled by a morbid sense of curiosity, I steal another peek at the young woman. A million questions swirl through my mind. I wonder how much life she got to experience before her diagnosis. Did she get the chance to fall in love? Does she have a partner to help her now? To my stepfather’s credit, he’s been there for my mother more than I expected, even picking up cooking and cleaning around the house. I’m not sure she’d be doing nearly as well without him.
As we pass, I overhear part of their conversation.
“Still with Cigna?” the receptionist asks.
“No, that’s not—I have new insurance. We just got divorced. I’m not on his anymore.” Her voice is shaky as she looks down and rifles through her purse. “I’ll find it, I know it’s in here somewhere.”
A pang of sympathy tugs at my stomach, followed by overwhelming nausea. I can’t imagine going through a divorce while battling cancer. Losing your marriage on top of everything else would be heartbreaking. I’ve heard it happens not infrequently. Something about the stress of the illness straining already struggling marriages. Whatever happened to in sickness and in health?
Sure, dating isn’t on my current priority list—I don’t need another disappointment on top of everything else. But she’s older than me. She’s had more time to meet someone, and a lot could change after graduation. If I’m lucky enough to find the right person later, would they stand by me through something like that?
Would they even want me in the first place? I bet it would be a dealbreaker for a lot of men.
Maybe living in the moment is the only way to keep my sanity and heart intact until I know.
“Sera?”
“Pardon?” My gaze slides over to my mom, who’s looking at me expectantly. We’re standing next to my car in the parking garage beneath her doctor’s office. I have no recollection of taking the elevator down.
“I said, do you want to go for dinner?”
“Sure,” I say distantly. “You pick.”
CHAPTER 13
DEAD BATTERY
TYLER
Seraphina must have been the last one in the kitchen again.
I set the groceries on the counter and unload the first bag, closing the open cabinets as I go. With a fourth person in the house, I made a point to order more than usual. We’ll see how long it lasts this time. Sera consumes normal quantities of food, but Chase and Dallas are total wildcards.
Moving on to the next, I get the frozen items into the freezer before they start to melt. This includes two pints of Seraphina’s favorite Haagen Dazs to make up for my unintentional theft, plus a third pint for me. I have another cheat day soon and that cheesecake ice cream was next level.
Behind me, the front door creaks open and slams shut. My body comes alive with anticipation as I catch a glimpse of Seraphina through the kitchen doorway. Seeing her is the high point of my day lately, followed closely by our constant back and forth texts.
She kicks off her shoes and reaches up, hanging her coat on the rack. It immediately slides off the hook and falls to the ground, but she doesn’t stop to pick it off the floor.
“Hey Tink,” I call, putting a box of cereal on the shelf.
“Hey.” She breezes past in a blur of pink and denim, avoiding my attempt to make eye contact.
“Do you—” I start, but she’s gone before I can finish.
Guess that’s a no on wanting dinner, then.
Confusion overtakes me and I lean a hip against the counter, mentally replaying our interaction. What the hell just happened? There was a bit of weirdness between us earlier this week after our close call in the kitchen, but we moved past it pretty quickly. We were messaging today like everything was fine. I have no idea what changed.
Chase steps through the door a few minutes later and slips off his winter boots in the entry. “Is Sera here? She was supposed to text me after my mom’s checkup, but she never did.”
My stomach drops to the floor. Shit. Maybe the appointment went badly and that’s why she’s upset.
“Yeah. She got home and barreled straight for her bedroom.”
“Guess that explains the coat,” he mutters, kneeling to retrieve it from the floor. “I’m going to check on her.”
Worry simmers in the pit of my gut. For lack of other options, I finish putting away the rest of the groceries and get started on dinner to distract myself. I bought enough steak to feed a small kingdom, which means we’ll probably polish it off in one sitting.
Just as I’m putting the potatoes on to boil, Chase strolls back into the kitchen and heads to the fridge.
I give him a questioning look over the island. “All good?”
“Dunno.” He cracks open a carton of strawberry peach EnduraFuel with a frown. “She said our mom’s checkup went smoothly, but she’s acting weird. Wouldn’t really talk to me.”
Now I’m really concerned. Generally, I try to minimize messaging Sera when Chase is around. You know, as an insurance policy. But I can’t stop myself from grabbing my phone and texting her.
Hades: You okay, Tink?
Tinker Bell: Yeah, I’m fine.
Hades: Are you sure? You seemed upset when you got home.
Tinker Bell: Just having a bad day. School stuff. Nothing major.
“Yo, Carter.” Dallas saunters into the room and lobs a small black object at Chase, who narrowly catches it before it hits him in the shoulder. “Stop putting your shit in my bag.”
Chase pulls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pointing to the Apple Watch on his left wrist. “That’s not mine, bro.” He passes the other watch back to Dallas.
Dallas holds it up to the light to examine it, frowning. “Then who the hell does it belong to? And how did it get into my backpack?”
“Shoplifting, Ward?” I ask. “I know you’ve got expensive taste, but maybe you should get a part-time job instead.”
“Ha-ha.” He makes a face, flipping me the bird.
All three of our phones ping in unison. I check my texts to find a new message in our team’s group chat.
Filthy Falcons
Reid Holloway: Anyone seen an Apple Watch? Latest model, black band. It went missing out of the locker room after practice earlier.
Reid Holloway: If this is some kind of hazing prank, you can fuck off.
Chase snorts a laugh, and even my sour mood lifts slightly.
I point to Dallas with the spatula. “See? You’re so distracted texting Shiv all the time that you’re stealing people’s stuff now.”