Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
BEFORE
“Noah!”
The shout pulled my head toward the crowd. Among the throng of bodies at the airport, I spotted my oldest brother making his way to me, a huge grin stretching across his face—which I mirrored without hesitation.
I made a beeline for him and his wife, grabbing her bag and leading them to the parking lot.
“How come you got stuck with us?” Matias asked.
“Stuck?” I shot back. “You think I’d rather be home babysitting the preteens?”
He let out a throaty laugh. “So, Diego’s already there?”
“They got in this morning. You’re the one always showing up fashionably late.”
We reached the row of cars just as the black van’s trunk popped open. Ilana stepped out from the driver’s side, smiling as she spread her arms to greet our brother.
“You’ve gotten so big, Noah,” Luciana, my sister-in-law, said, attempting to ruffle my hair.
I dodged her hand with a laugh. “Yeah, well, last time you saw me I wasn’t even sixteen. If you visited more often, you’d get the joy of watching me age in real time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you heading to Los Angeles in a couple months?”
“Graduating in June,” I said, holding the door open for her.
She slid into the front seat next to my sister, and I climbed into the back with Matias.
He was the oldest of our dad’s kids, but somehow, despite the big age gap, we’d always clicked.
Like me, he had Dad’s green eyes, though he towered over both of us—probably something he got from his mom’s side, though I didn’t really know them.
“Finally getting out of high school? Only took you ten years,” he teased.
“Oh, hardy-har. It was one extra year, and honestly? Couldn’t end fast enough.” I settled back in my seat.
Ilana snorted from behind the wheel. “I bet you’re dying to get out—especially after last week.”
Our eyes met in the rearview mirror, humor flashing in hers.
“Why do you all gang up on me when we’re together?”
Luciana grinned. “Easy target?”
I stuck my tongue out at her.
“Wait, what happened last week?” Matias asked.
“Mom caught Noah going down on her Pilates instructor,” Ilana said casually.
I laughed as I shoved her shoulder. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
She cackled.
I loved how Ilana came alive when we were away from the house. Away from Mom. Family reunions with our brothers gave us that—an escape, a chance to do things together where she could just be herself.
Matias shook his head, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “Jesus, Noah.”
“Whatever. I’m nineteen. She doesn’t get to monitor what I do with my mouth.” I smirked, daring either of them to argue.
“I think she was more upset about firing Ben,” Ilana said. “He’s good eye candy. Can’t blame her,”
“Which is why it happened in the first place. Plus, that guy had been eye-fucking me since the day he walked in.”
“Hold up—” Matias let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. “I’m a thousand years behind. Back up. You’re gay? Last I heard, you had a girlfriend.”
“It’s called being bi, Mati,” I said. “Don’t be a bigot.”
“I’m not—I just didn’t know.”
“Well, according to Mom, it’s not ‘dinner-table talk,’ so maybe don’t bring it up too much this weekend.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but it crept in anyway.
She’d been full bite all week, her eyes carrying that look—disappointment she wanted me to notice. We were both adults; it wasn’t a big deal. If it had been a girl, she would’ve brushed it off.
“Speaking of girlfriends,” Ilana said, “weren’t you seeing Fiona? Like, actually dating?”
“I don’t seriously date anyone. But yeah, we’re seeing each other. We’re not exclusive.”
“Man, we leave for like two days, and suddenly you’re Seattle’s biggest player.” Matias threw his head back with a dramatic sigh. “What is happening to the world?”
It was an all-around celebration at our house. Our brothers and their families had flown in for an Argentinian holiday—something about a civil war, which had nothing to do with parties, but our dad insisted. So, everyone came.
Diego brought his two kids, both teetering on the edge of adolescence, which meant they wanted nothing to do with us. Matias arrived with just his wife. He had kids, too, but ever since the divorce, things with his ex had been rocky. He didn’t see them much.
Still, it was nice having everyone together. It made everything feel a little more whole. Dad had been off lately—distracted, unfocused—so seeing him smile again felt like a small victory.
Ilana hadn’t been wrong about Fiona. I’d finally asked if she wanted to be exclusive. She’d told me she’d think about it—not exactly promising, but better than a flat-out no.
The day after everyone arrived, we had a big family lunch. I was supposed to see Fiona afterward, but Dad called us into his office.
When I stepped inside, I took in the setup instantly—Dad seated behind the desk. Mom standing beside him. Ilana, Matias, and Diego already in the chairs across from him.
No wives. No kids.
A flicker of dread settled under my ribs. I ignored it and sat down.
“It’s so nice having all of you here,” Dad said, his voice a little too steady. “Thank you for coming.”
“It’s okay, Dad.” Matias’ face was tight, lips pressed together, one finger dragging over his mouth while his leg bounced beneath him.
“What did you want to talk about?” Diego asked.
We waited.
Mom’s hand moved to Dad’s shoulder. His eyes met mine for a second before shifting away.
“We got some bad news last week,” he began. “About my health. I found a lump on the back of my neck and went to the doctor to get it checked out.”
The room tensed. You could feel it, like a collective inhale that no one let go.
“Did they find something?” Matias asked.
Ilana cracked her knuckles, laced her fingers together, and rested them tightly in her lap.
Dad exhaled. “It’s Hodgkin’s lymphoma.”
“What’s that?” It came out in a whisper, but he still looked right at me.
“Is that cancer?” Diego asked, alarm lacing his voice.
Cancer.
No.
Dad’s eyes stayed on mine. He gave a short, sharp nod. Then looked away.
No.
“They’re still running tests, trying to determine the best treatment—” he began.
But then it started.
A barrage of questions.
What stage? Is it spreading? Are you getting chemo? Surgery?
Until I couldn’t hear a thing.
The world shifted sideways. Sound became underwater static. Time bent and slowed.
My brain latched onto one word. One unbearable word that seemed large enough to rearrange the universe.
Cancer.
I bit my tongue. Hard. I wouldn’t cry here. Not in front of them.
Pretend you’re listening. Pretend you’re still in the room.
Minutes passed. Or hours. I couldn’t tell. The walls felt too close. My skin too tight.
Just breathe. In. Out. And for fuck’s sake, don’t lose it.
The edge of his desk was chipped—small, almost imperceptible. The wood splintered just enough to catch the eye. I stared at it, counted the lines.
Then Dad spoke again. “That’s all we know right now. I wanted you to hear it from me. I’ll update you as we learn more.” His eyes found mine once more. “Do you want to ask anything?” The question was meant just for me.
But I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even tell if I was still breathing.
I shook my head.
“Well,” he said, “if you do…I’m here.”
A sob cracked the room.
We all turned. Ilana had crumpled forward, her hands pressed to her face as she broke down.
Who was going to fix this?
Dad was the one who fixed things.
Who was going to fix it now?
“Noah?”
I turned. I didn’t even realize I’d stood, but I was already on my feet, looking down at him. The shadows under his eyes were deeper than I’d ever seen.
Just a little longer. Hold it in.
“I have plans. We’re done, right?” My voice barely held.
Please let me go. Let me leave. Just this once—don’t make me stay here.
He bowed his head.
That second stretched unbearably. For hours. For days.
And then I moved, turned, and walked out.
Maybe someone called after me—Mom, or Matias—but I didn’t hear it. I couldn’t.
The only thing I knew with any clarity was that I had to get out of that room before the full weight of this moment crashed down on me.
I had missed calls and countless messages. I kept ignoring them. For some reason, Holly and Colin wouldn’t stop texting, and it just wasn’t the fucking time for it.
Cancer.
My dad had cancer.
People died of that.
The only experience I’d had with it was this kid—three or four years younger than me—who had gotten sick and hadn’t made it.
He was from my school. They held a service.
His family was wrecked—a sobbing, distraught mess, begging the world to give their kid back.
It didn’t matter that it was pointless. They still begged.
Because when someone dies, it’s big. Really fucking big. The biggest thing. Because it’s over.
And that’s what cancer does. It ends things. It kills people.
And my dad had it.
Everything else started to shrink.
My mom yelling at me for hooking up with her instructor, trying to shame me? Small.
Fiona hesitating, figuring out if she even wanted to be with me? Small.
Me zoning out, wondering if life was even worth it? Still small.
The only thing that felt big was that one word. Gigantic. Fucking monumental. Because how could life just keep moving forward after this? This was everything. The stakes had never been higher. If this didn’t work out, it wouldn’t just be a rough night or a few tears.
If this didn’t work out, my dad would be—
No.
Nope.
Not going there.
I rubbed my hands over my face and forced it down, shoved the thought away like I always did.
“Noah?” Fiona’s voice cut through the static in my head.
“Yeah?”
She tilted her head, and a cascade of curls fell over her shoulder. “Are you listening to me?”
“No. Not really,” I replied without thinking. Sure, I could lie. But what was the fucking point?
Silence.
“Are you high right now?” Fiona asked.
“Nope. Wish I was, though.”
She sighed and sat down on the floor across from me, her expression tired. “Are you trying to get out of tonight? You said you wanted to go.”
Go to what?
Oh. Right. That party with her friends—the ones who looked at me like I was her biggest mistake. Sounded like a lovely fucking evening.
“I’m not really in the mood.”
Her face twisted in… pain? Anger, maybe? One of those. “Are you serious, Noah? What about us giving this a shot? Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I did,” I said. “I just don’t care about it right now.”
That stung her. So what? Let her be hurt. She didn’t even want to be with me in the first place.
“Why are you being such a dick?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “I’m a dick? Who’s the one making me jump through hoops just to date you?” The words were out before I could stop them.
She stared, stunned. “I’m not doing that.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I just don’t know if I can trust you. Look at how you’re acting right now,” she snapped.
“Yeah, you can’t trust me to behave with your friends in public, but you can trust me to fuck you in private. Funny how that works.”
She got up fast, pointing to the door. “Get out.”
I stood too. “Fine.”
“I knew you were an asshole. My friends said so. I just didn’t believe them.”
“Glad to finally meet someone’s expectations,” I muttered, slamming the door behind me.
I left her apartment and paused on the sidewalk. I needed a drink. A smoke. I needed to not exist. To pause time. Anything to numb this for a while. I had to stop thinking, stop feeling.
I could lose my dad.
My dad.
Who was probably scared shitless right now. Because if I saw that diagnosis with my name on it, I’d lose my mind. And here I was, wallowing, like I was the one going through it. Like this was mine to grieve.
It wasn’t.
This pain was his.
And I was being so fucking selfish.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Fuck.” My hands fumbled for my phone as I called a car, the urgency finally hitting me.
As we sped through traffic, a resolution settled into place—quiet but heavy: This wasn’t about me.
The car pulled up to the house, and I sat there a moment before going in.
You’re here for him. To make him feel safe.
You don’t get to fall apart right now, Noah.
You’re going to shove those feelings into the back corner of your brain and keep them there until he doesn’t need you anymore.
You can do this. You’ve been masking and hiding your whole fucking life.
Maybe it was all just training for this.
I was going to show up. I was going to help him, make things better.
And if it destroyed me in the process?
Who the hell cared?
This. Wasn’t. About. Me.
I walked straight to his office and knocked. The door was already slightly open, but he still called out for me to come in.
His shoulders relaxed when he saw me.
I stepped in. “I’m back.” The words felt heavier than they should have.
He smiled—tired, a little defeated—but there was hope there too.
The burn behind my eyes threatened to rise again.
Push it in.
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “I have some questions for you.”
“Come sit. You can ask whatever you want.”
I could help. I would help.
Everything was going to be okay.
The door clicked softly shut behind me.