Chapter 9 Cam
CAM
My heart thunders violently against my ribcage as I take the stairs two at a time, charging up them toward the sixth floor of the medical office building.
The elevator would have taken far too long.
I couldn’t have just stood there, waiting for those doors to open, wasting all those precious seconds. I couldn’t have walked into it and stood there casually in the car as if my world isn’t falling apart—again—while it glided upward.
Paint still covers my hand that grips my phone, and I check it at each landing I hit to see if Mom has responded to me. But all I see on the screen are our original texts.
Either she hasn’t seen the final one or she’s ignoring my questions intentionally.
Neither option is one I want to consider, given the contents of her message and what that might mean.
Mom
Come to Doctor Christian’s office. Now. It’s important.
What’s wrong?
I’m okay. Just please come.
I’m on my way, but please tell me what’s happening.
Are you all right?
Yes. I’ll see you soon.
What’s happening?
Despite her reassurances, panic seizes my lungs, making each breath harder as I push myself to climb even faster.
It’s the last place I ever wanted to set foot again, and just pulling up and parking outside the familiar building was enough to make my chest tighten painfully.
This place holds that memory.
Of hearing the word “lump” and knowing Mom might not be okay.
I thought I would never be back here once Mom rang that bell and was officially cancer free. That was over fifteen years ago, yet that same fear and crushing anxiety threaten to suffocate me the higher I climb.
Her cancer might be back…
Why else would she be here?
Why would she need me to come?
Nothing about this situation or the vagueness of her message gives me any confidence that I shouldn’t be considering worst-case scenarios.
And given the state of mind I was in when she texted, it’s far too easy to go there. Especially when she isn’t responding to me.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I reach the top floor and yank open the door with a trembling hand.
Get your shit under control…
The last thing Mom needs is me arriving in a panic if she’s already upset about some bad news. And if this were something good, she wouldn’t be so fucking cryptic.
My stomach roils at that thought as I race down the corridor toward Doctor Christian’s office at the far end, skidding to a stop on the linoleum outside the door with his name on it.
Calm the fuck down.
My heart and lungs don’t want to get on board with that idea—both struggling to find a normal pattern.
Darkness ekes into the edges of my vision, and I squeeze my eyes closed momentarily, praying to find the strength to face whatever waits for me inside when it already feels like I might collapse from the anticipation of it.
I’ve never been particularly good at controlling my emotions…
And young kids can be cruel.
Which meant I learned to shut down and keep it in.
To only release those feelings on the page or canvas, where I would be safe from ridicule.
But since Drew’s death, this turbulent tangle of feelings has overwhelmed me so completely that there hasn’t been any hope of getting myself under any semblance of control.
But I have to.
For Mom.
I take several deep breaths until the shaking in my body seems to abate somewhat before I open my eyes again, pull open the door, and step into the waiting room.
The young woman behind the desk looks up, lips twisting into a welcoming smile before her gaze travels fully over me and shutters slightly at my appearance. “Can I help you, sir?”
Given the way I raced over here after receiving the message, I’m sure my appearance is as much in disarray as my mind is.
“Umm…” I scan the waiting room, but it’s empty. With no sign of Mom, I keep working on drawing air into my lungs and releasing it slowly as I approach the desk. “My mother texted asking me to meet her here. Nancy Usher…”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen slightly, then dip to the paint covering my hand clutching my phone. “She mentioned you would be coming. Let me take you back.”
“Thank you.”
My voice comes out far too unsteady and breathless.
Something Mom will certainly notice if I don’t get my shit together. Quickly.
Pressing my hand over my thundering heart, I inhale deeply again, clearing my throat to dispel some of the tension so I don’t look panicked when I see her.
If her cancer is back, if it’s bad news, I need to be the strong one this time.
I need to be the one who keeps it together.
Because Drew isn’t here to do it anymore.
He was the one who truly stepped up, who took on that caregiver role for her and me when seeing her so sick left me in a dark place where all I could see was the possibility of losing her.
If she needs you, you can do it…
That’s what I tell myself as the receptionist leads me down a short hallway and pauses in front of an exam room with a closed door. “Here you go.”
She knocks once, then opens it wide for me to step in.
As soon as my feet cross the threshold, my eyes immediately go to Mom, who sits in a chair against the wall to my left.
Her gaze connects with mine, shimmering with tears she’s barely keeping at bay. She gives me a tight smile, but unease radiates from her. “Thank you for coming.”
The receptionist tugs the door closed behind me, but I barely hear it, completely focused on Mom and how swollen her eyes look from crying. My stomach tenses, and I shove my phone into my pocket as I cross over to her.
“Of course.” I squat in front of her chair, pulling her hands into mine. “What’s wrong?”
Please, God, don’t let the cancer be back…
After everything that’s happened, I don’t think I could survive another blow like that right now—or ever.
Mom presses her lips together, locking her gaze with mine.
And for the first time in my life, I can’t read her.
She and Drew were always so much alike—wearing their hearts on their sleeves.
But now, a strange mixture of emotions swims in her eyes, and even though I can’t see their color anymore, I can see her uncertainty at the center of them
“I’m fine, honey.” She squeezes my hands. “This isn’t about me.”
“What?”
She glances over my shoulder at something behind me, and I turn my head and freeze.
All the air rushes from my lungs, my heart stopping as my eyes meet Ivy’s, where she sits reclined on an exam table in a medical gown with a blanket draped across her legs and abdomen.
“Ivy…”
Her name comes out like a prayer.
Because it is one.
Seeing her is like witnessing a goddamn miracle in real life because I never thought I would again.
Only I can’t enjoy the moment.
Not when I can tell, even from across the room, that she’s been crying, too.
Tears brim her eyes, and streaks trail down her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivers, and her hands twist in the blanket nervously. Something lingers in her gaze that I don’t think I’ve ever seen there before, even after everything we’ve shared.
Fear.
In all the time I’ve known her, even over the many years I spent obsessively watching her from across the pond via every single social media post she made or was tagged in, even when she sat a few feet from me and listened to me confess to causing Drew’s death, I’ve never seen this look on her face.
Ice-cold terror floods my veins, making my entire body tremble.
Dread settles in my chest.
I drop Mom’s hands and move over toward her cautiously, unsure what I’m supposed to do or say as panic tightens around my spine, making each step stiff and awkward.
Why is she here?
Why did Mom ask me to come?
We stare at each other in the silent room, the tension thickening the air the longer no one says anything.
I clear my throat, stopping halfway to her. “What-what’s wrong?”
Ivy exchanges a look with Mom behind me, and Mom pushes to her feet.
She stops beside me. “I’m going to let you two talk.” Her hand tightens around my arm. “I’ll be in the lobby.”
Before I can think to ask why she’s not staying, she slips out the door, closing it behind her and leaving me alone with the woman who still owns me—body and soul—even if she doesn’t want it.
And the fact that she’s watching me with that curious look of fear, trepidation, and almost relief twists a knife in my gut.
Fear clogs my throat before I can say anything else, before I can ask anything to try to figure out what the fuck is going on.
She gives me a tight smile, clearly uncomfortable with me being here, with whatever she’s about to tell me.
That’s why Mom left—so Ivy can break the news to me herself.
Which means it’s bad.
I slowly lower myself into the chair at the side of the exam bed and wait for her to say something, anything, as I hold my breath.
Finally, she releases a long sigh, continuing to twist her fingers in the blanket that covers her lap.
“I’m okay, Cam. I told Nancy you’d freak out, that you’d probably think she was sick again if she didn’t explain why she was asking you to come.
” Her lips tilt into an almost smile, but it’s forced. “And I’m sorry if you did…”
Oh, thank God…
The tiniest bit of tension releases from my shoulders, and I run a trembling hand through my hair, trying to process what’s happening.
But I can’t get my head around any reason Ivy would be here with Mom, or what she could possibly need to tell me when we haven’t spoken in months.
“It’s okay. I, um…now I’m just worried about you. ”
Like I have been since she walked out my door with that almost-empty bottle and the smack that was mere minutes from going into my veins.
Her hands tighten on the blanket, knuckles whitening as if she’s having to try to ground herself physically in order to be this close to me. My mind immediately flashes back to how tightly she clung to me like that the night we spread Drew’s ashes. How desperately she needed me then.
Things have changed so much.
Now she’s nervous. Scared. Uneasy around me when she once craved my touch.