Chapter Seventeen
GRAYSON
“Mr. and Mrs. Campbell?” a man in the doorway wearing a long white coat and big Coke bottle glasses gets my attention. I scrub my face to wake myself up and stand, giving Dillon a parting glance, and kiss Finley’s forehead. She slowly wakes up and blinks sleepily at me.
“Hey, doctor is here,” I croon, rubbing her cheek with my thumb.
Her eyes drift toward the door, and she nods, lifting herself from the chair.
I yawn. “Sorry, excuse me. It’s been a long night.” I hold out my hand to greet him. “I’m Grayson Campbell. This is my wife, Finley.”
“I’m Doctor. Henry Gladstone. I’m your son’s Oncologist from Portland.”
“I remember,” I say. I only saw him once before. He’s a busy man, which is terrible because that means a lot of people have cancer.
“I looked over your son’s chart, and it looks like the treatment isn’t working like we had hoped. He didn’t slip in the shower; he lost consciousness.”
Finley grabs ahold of my hand as I stare at the doctor and shake my head. “That’s … no. You said the treatment was going to work. You said he was going to be fine. You said … no. Run the test again.”
Doctor Gladstone’s eyes soften in sympathy, a look he has mastered having to do it a hundred times. “I’m sorry, Mr. Campbell. Your son needs a bone marrow transplant. We are searching the donor list now, but it would be better if the transplant came from a family member.”
“Test me. Take fucking all of my marrow. I don’t care.” I close my eyes and breathe, but the emotion in my chest is building and building, heavy like concrete blocks. “Just test me.”
“Me too,” Finley says.
“Us too,” Jaxon speaks up from the doorway along with the crew. “All of us.”
“I’ll have a few nurses come by. We should have an answer soon. I’ll make tests results priority.” Doctor Gladstone turns around to leave, but I stop him by grabbing his shoulder.
“Doctor Gladstone, what … what do we do now?”
“Right now, it’s a waiting a game. Until we can get that bone marrow transplant, there isn’t much we can do.”
There isn’t much to do? If we don’t get a transplant I have to sit and watch him die? “Right, okay. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry that I don’t have better news.” Doctor Gladstone walks out the door, and I stumble back to my chair to sit down.
“I don’t even know his favorite color,” I whisper, taking his small hand in mine. I almost can’t believe he’s the same flesh and blood as me. It’s amazing and terrifying all at once. “I haven’t had enough time with him.” I look up to my friends, and they all have solemn expressions on their faces. “I just want more time.”
“He’ll be okay,” Finley says, reaching for my shoulder, but I move away from her touch.
“You don’t know that. No one knows that. He isn’t okay. Look at him, he’s barely fucking breathing. I just want more goddamn time!” I roar at the top of my lungs. stand, and grab the chair I was sitting in. I lift it above my head and throw it against the wall with a savage grunt. “Why is this happening to me? What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” I take the lamp off the nightstand and throw that too, shattering it into a million pieces.
“You didn’t do anything to deserve this,” Finley says, wrapping her arms around my waist. She tightens her arms around my waist as I try to get free. I don’t want to be touched or comforted, but the longer she holds me, the better I feel. “You didn’t do a thing,” she whispers.
I hug her in return, and the anger depletes. I’ve never felt so helpless before. This person, this little human being is depending on me, and there is nothing I can do about it. I can’t help him. I can’t check under his bed for monsters. I can’t dry his tears after a nightmare to make it better. I can’t do anything.
And being a new parent, I’m already lost, and now I’m thrown into this situation and all I know is that I need to save his life.
But I don’t know how.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper in her ear and hold onto the woman who came into my life when I had no idea how much I’d need her. I lift my gaze to the crew and sigh. “I’m so sorry. I … I lost it. I have a feeling I’ll keep losing it.”
“It’s okay. It’s understandable,” Owen says just as a nurse comes in.
She stops dead in her tracks when she sees the mess and the large crack on the wall. Her eyes dart to me, Dillon, and the mess on the floor. It doesn’t take long for her to put two and two together. She lifts a shoulder and gives me a sad, tight smile. “I’m here to test for a positive match for this sweet boy?” Her voice sounds younger than I expected. She’s older, long gray hair, but not one wrinkle on her face.
“Yeah, all of us,” Jaxon says.
“Besides me. I’m pregnant. I’m sorry, Grayson,” Quinn sounds disappointed as she speaks to me. She holds the round basketball of her belly, stroking it lovingly.
“Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”
“Let’s get this show on the road, then.” The nurse sets down her supplies, and one by one everyone gets their cheeks swabbed instead of giving blood. It’s quicker. When she puts the Q-tip in the vile and twists the top closed, she picks up her cart and hurries out the door without saying a word.
“One of us has to be a match,” Heaven says, hopeful.
Another knock on the door interrupts us, and it’s Doctor Gladstone. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here and never want to see a damn doctor again.
“You might want to head home, get some rest, and eat. The tests won’t be done for at least twenty-four hours,” he informs me.
“I’m not leaving,” I scoff.
“It will do you some good to come back tomorrow. He’s about to be in and out of tests all day, and he hasn’t woke up yet. I don’t think he will until tomorrow, so you’re good to go, Mr. Campbell.”
I’m conflicted. I wring my hands together and sigh. “I can’t leave him.”
“I’ll call you if anything changes; I promise. Please, the best thing you can do is take care of yourself too. Your stress will stress him. Go.”
I can tell by the tone of his voice that I don’t actually have an option. I bend down and brush a hand over Dillon’s brown hair. He’s so pale. The dark circles under his eyes look like pools of ink and his lips are chapped. I pat my pockets but find no Chapstick like usual. “Does anyone have lip balm? His lips are dry.”
“Yeah, I do,” Quinn says, reaching into her purse. “It’s strawberry flavor. I hope that’s okay. Here you go.” She tosses it to me, and I catch it with one hand.
I take the cap off and twist the knob at the bottom, then spread it over his lips. “There you go, buddy.”
“You can keep it. He needs it more than I do,” Quinn says.
“Thank you.” I lay it on the nightstand and bend down to whisper in his ear, “I’ll be right back, okay? The doctor is telling me to go home and shower, but I’ll be back. Don’t think I left you. I swear I’m coming back.” I kiss his cheek, and Finley does the same to his other side.