“Thanks, Jenn, but I don’t drink, remember?”
“Maybe that’s your problem, Dane.” She turned the bottle up and pushed open the screen door. “I’ll be over at Granny’s if you need me, sis. Good luck.”
Dane stopped the door from slapping shut and walked into the kitchen, where Misty was scrubbing a frying pan that had been burnt black weeks ago. “Good luck with what?” he asked. “We’re not fighting, are we?”
Misty stopped scrubbing and turned off the faucet. She dried her hands on a dish towel and opened up the fridge to get one of the last two beers. She was cleaning and she was drinking. That told Dane what he needed to know. They weren’t fighting yet, but they soon would be. She held her beer against the counter and tried to smack it open the way her sister had, but only ended up hurting her hand.
“Ouch. Goddamnit.” She shook the injured palm in the air as if she could shake the pain out.
“Here, give me that.” Dane took the beer bottle, twisted the top off, and set it on the counter. “She’s going to tear up the counters in here doing that. Dad spent weeks cutting all these countertops.” He rubbed his hand over the area of small nicks in the granite. “And for twist-top beers. Misty, I love your sister, but damn, she doesn’t have respect for nothing.”
“That’s pretty funny coming from you.” Misty picked up her beer and walked into the den.
Dane leaned against the sink. “Okay, so I guess we are fighting.”
Misty sipped at the beer. It was clear she didn’t even want it. She stood in the den looking out the screen door into the dim purple light of the bug zapper hanging above the porch. The fluorescent light brought out the tense muscles in her face. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, or she’d cried it off. Either way, she was angry, and it dawned on Dane that she hadn’t even made eye contact with him since he’d been there. He scanned the interior of the trailer looking for his envelope—for those goddamn lab results—but he didn’t see anything. Maybe they were still in his pants on the floor back home. Just because he didn’t see them didn’t mean she hadn’t found them or knew what they said. Still, it was possible. He wasn’t about to volunteer anything—not yet. Maybe he’d been way off about the whole thing. Maybe this was just something silly—about money—or something he forgot and should’ve remembered. Misty had anniversaries for everything—first date—first movie—first kiss—first fucking trip to the grocery store. It was exhausting and hard to keep up with. He came up behind her and put his hands on her hips, and she let him. She was wearing a pair of black and orange spandex leggings and a loose-fitting tank top over a sports bra. Dane loved it when she dressed like that. A lot of women went for the workout look, but Misty had the body to pull it off. She actually made it to the gym every day.
Her granny only lived three lots over, so he could hear Jenn talking from where they were standing. “Your sister is loud as hell.” Dane moved his hands off her hips and up her back.
“Stop it. I’m sweaty.”
“I like you sweaty.” He leaned his head forward and kissed her neck. She let the first kiss go, but pulled away from the second. He slid his hands back down to her hips. He wasn’t ready to let go. He needed something to go right tonight after everything else had gone off the rails.
“I’m serious, Dane. I’m sweaty and I’m not in the mood. It’s nine thirty. I talked to you at two o’clock this afternoon. I thought you’d be here long before now.”
“So did I, but Ned—”
“But Ned,” Misty repeated, not giving him a chance to finish.
“He’s in a lot of trouble, Misty.”
“Does he know?”
Dane’s heart dropped. “Know what? What are you talking about?” He took his hands off her and sank them into his pockets. She walked into the den, set the beer down on the coffee table, and pulled the tattered envelope out of her purse.
Shit.
“About this, Dane. Does Ned know about this?” She slapped the envelope down on the coffee table and there it was. She finally looked him in the eye. “These are dated over a week ago.”
Dane walked back into the kitchen. “Misty…”
“You’ve known about this for a week?” She was yelling now. “A fucking week. When were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t know. I—didn’t know how.”
“You didn’t know how to tell the woman you share your bed with every night you have a tumor in your lung? You didn’t know how to tell me you’re sick?” She started crying immediately.
Dane moved in and tried to hold her, but she pushed him away. She circled the den and then barreled back at him and banged her fists into his chest. He took the first few hits before grabbing her by the wrists. “Calm down, Misty.”
“How can I calm down? Do you even know what this means? Do you even know how serious this is?”
“Yes, I know how serious it is. It’s happening to me, remember. I haven’t even been able to process it myself. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, much less you. Listen, I told you about the weak spells I’ve been having—the dizziness. I played it down but it started worrying me a little, so I went and had some tests done. I thought McKenzie was going to tell me I had high blood pressure or something, not that I had stage-two lung cancer. I was scared. I’m still scared. I didn’t know how to tell you, so I waited, and then I waited so long that I was afraid this would be how you’d act.”
The slap surprised him—and it hurt. Misty must’ve hurt herself, too, because she started waving her hand in the air again. Dane touched his face. It was raw and pink even under the fresh new beard. “Jesus Christ, Misty. What the hell was that for?”
She lowered her voice and Dane saw something in her face—something he hadn’t seen before. “You went fishing, you son of a bitch. You found out you were sick and not only did you ignore what the doctor said—I found your prescriptions, I know you didn’t fill them—but you decided not to tell me of all people, and then you went fishing.”
“It’s not like that, Misty.”
“The hell it isn’t. Does Charles know? Did you tell him that was the reason for taking the time off?”
Dane didn’t have to answer her. He had told Charles and she knew it by looking at his face. “I can’t believe you would do this to me—to us.” She picked up the envelope from the table and pointed it at him like a weapon. “This isn’t just happening to you, Dane—it’s happening to us. We are supposed to be partners, remember? I guess you were just going to wait until you dropped dead in the creek somewhere—or out with your high-school buddies—and leave me to sort it out on my own. It’s almost like you want it to happen. Is that why you let me move in? Because you knew it wouldn’t matter in a year or two anyway?”
“That’s ridiculous, Misty.”
“Is it, Dane? Is it ridiculous?”
Dane understood exactly where her anger came from. She was right. They were supposed to be partners. She had every right to know about his health and what was happening to him, but he’d been selfish and he knew it. He took the envelope out of her hand and she let him. He unfolded the paperwork and spread it out on the coffee table. He sat on the sofa, and after a long moment, Misty sat next to him. She let a few more tears escape before she wiped her face clean. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. What do we do now? We need to get you on these meds.”