Is ovarian cancer treatable? What does this mean? I’ll find the best damn doctor this side of the fucking Mississippi.
“I found out a few months ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. Air was struggling to fill my lungs. I felt like a hundred-mile-per-hour fastball had just hit me in the throat, knocking every one of my senses out of whack.
“Why didn’t you?”
Her hand shook as she grabbed the glass of water in front of her. “You were in your last few months of the season. I didn’t want to distract you from that. You’re a free agent. The biggest free agent on the market, I might add. You’d been performing so well, I wanted all the teams scouting you to see what I know is inside of you, how good you are. You’ve worked so hard, I didn’t want any of that to be thrown away. You’ve come back through so much.”
“That’s bullshit, Mom. You think I care about any of that more than I care about you? Baseball over you? I wouldn’t be where I am without you. What the hell? We’re supposed to be honest with each other.”
I unrolled the silverware, desperate for something to do with my hands. I threw the napkin over my lap and let the metal clang together as it fell to the table. I stared at the white plate in front of me, unable to get a hold of myself. I wanted to yell at her and demand answers, but she was sick. I also wanted to rewind to a few months ago, before any of this was happening. What the fuck was it with this town that everyone I loved died in it? I shook my head, forcibly removing those thoughts from my mind. She would not die. I refused to let that happen. I couldn’t save Dec, but I would save her.
What does all this mean?
What does it mean? Ovarian cancer?
Fuck.
“I’m sorry, honey. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I gritted my teeth. Betrayal churned in my gut. We’d have to get back to that though.
“What’s happening? Who is your doctor? What are they saying?”
“It was caught early and is treatable. I’ve been undergoing chemo and will need radiation when it’s complete. Surgery is also being discussed, but will depend on how I respond to chemo.”
“Who is your doctor? Is this the best course of treatment?”
I pulled out my phone from my pocket to send a message to my agent. Find the best ovarian cancer doctor in Texas. I tucked it away again and looked at Mom.
“Yes, this was the best course of treatment. I did get a second opinion. I really like my doctor.”
“But are they good? I can give you the best. Dammit, Mom. Why didn’t you tell me? Isn’t time crucial with this type of stuff? We’re going to get you the very best doctor.”
Mom reached across the table and squeezed my arm. My heart rate slowed as I looked up and saw her in an entirely new light. I noticed the baggy clothes and thin frame.
But it was other stuff too.
Her hair wasn’t as thick. The bags under her eyes were dark and deep, as if she hadn’t been sleeping. She had kept my world spinning since my dad died. She’d kept me anchored after I’d lost Declan and nearly lost my baseball career in one fell swoop. She’d driven me to practices and forced me to push myself in rehab when I wanted to drown in my pain.
The woman across from me was the only fucking reason that I was entering free agency with rumors swirling around about one of the largest contracts to ever be issued in sports history. I already had more than enough money from sponsors in addition to the money I’d earned through the years.
My chest felt like it’d been cracked open and was bare. Vulnerable. And I hadn’t asked the one question I should’ve asked as soon as she told me.
“How are you feeling? Are you okay?”
“Is everything okay over here?” Delilah asked with two steaming plates in her hands. Mom pulled back, taking her hands from my arms. I sat back in my chair, coming back to Earth and remembering we were in the middle of a restaurant with people surrounding us.
“That smells delicious.” My mom had always been a master at deflecting a question she didn’t want to answer. Delilah looked at me and tilted her head. For just a moment, before this had all come crashing down on me, I’d thought it would be fun to spend time with Delilah during the off-season, but now? That was out of the question. I didn’t have time to flirt with the pretty girl, as much as I wanted to.
“We’re fine,” I answered. “Can’t wait to eat that though.”
I inclined my head toward the plates in her hands. She put them down in front of us, still searching my face. She didn’t know me nearly well enough to probe my feelings. Delilah cleared her throat before nodding and walking off.
We both took our first bites in silence. It was as good as promised. I knew Mom hadn’t forgotten my question, and I was giving her time to formulate her answer.
“I’m okay. Some days are better than others. This is why I asked you to come home though.”
I scoffed. “Figured. I want to meet your doctors. Tomorrow. All of them.”
I would make this right. No matter what it took, no matter what I had to give, I would make this right.
Chapter 5
Delilah
“Would you like a ride?” I slowed the cart to a stop in front of Gunner’s cabin. His cabin was on the same trail as ours, and as I’d started up the cart, I’d seen him walking out the front door. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket. It was the first morning the temperature had dropped drastically. At that time of year, it could be in the eighties or the twenties. It swung from day to day. Hell, even hour to hour. That was part of Texas life.
Gunner’s face was cast down toward the path. He hadn’t answered or even acknowledged that he’d heard me.
“Gunner?” His head popped up, surprise coloring his expression. Deep bags were underneath his eyes, and the shade of blue wasn’t quite as bright today. I frowned. “Would you like a ride?”
One hand came out of his pocket and ran through the messy, damp hair on top of his head. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower, put on some clothes, and left.
“You don’t have to do that,” he answered.
“I’m heading that way anyway. Are you getting breakfast?”
He shook his head. “No time. I’m meeting my mom for…something.”
“If you hop on, it’ll be faster. I have some breakfast burritos in the kitchen ready to go. I’ll grab you one really quick and you can head out.”
As he sighed, his entire body moved with the breath. “That’d be great.”
He walked around the front of the cart and slid on the bench seat beside me. The leather creaked under his weight as he shifted into a comfortable position. I released the brake and stepped on the gas. Dirt kicked up around the tires, and pebbles hit the metal rims.
“Your cart is great. I haven’t ever seen anything like this.”
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, and he hitched his lips up on one side. A fraction of the guy I’d met several days ago was back, but the vibrancy he’d oozed wasn’t at full capacity. Which was probably a good thing. If I had to be contained with that charisma on the bench seat, which all of a sudden felt way too small, I might melt into a pile of goo.