Chapter 10 What It’s Not
What It's Not
Claire
The alarm chirped again, new day, new plan. I didn’t bother with breakfast. I’d barely finished brushing my teeth when my brain kicked into gear. The checklist was already writing itself. I knew how to advocate without flinching.
Liam must’ve called Maeve yesterday. She already sent over her medical history, along with a short, carefully worded email that tried not to sound scared.
She didn’t ask for help. Not directly. But she’d included her phone number and mentioned she welcomed any help navigating the health care system. That was enough.
So today, it was game on. Funny how someone else’s crisis had quickly become my crisis. Well, our crisis.
I looked at my watch. I had only been awake five minutes, but I was already at Liam’s dining room table, laptop open, legal pad beside me, and my phone on speaker. I usually worked in my room. Today, I wanted to be close in case he had questions. Or I had questions for him.
Efficient.
The fact that the kitchen was in full view had nothing to do with it.
That’s what I told myself, anyway. It had nothing to do with having the perfect seat to occasionally glance up, just in case he wandered into the kitchen, barefoot and still sleep-rumpled.
Thanks, Brooke.
The coffee hadn’t brewed, but I didn’t need it. I was running on instinct, muscle memory from a hundred hard conversations.
I didn’t look up when Liam walked in. Just raised a finger for him to wait as I scribbled some notes on the pad.
“Yes, that sounds promising. I’ll email over her records right away, and you can let me know if she can fit Maeve in this week. Please let me know if Dr. Alston has any questions. Thank you.”
I clicked off the call and exhaled. Then, I finally looked up.
Liam stood near the counter.
Barefoot. Shirtless. Hair still sleep-creased.
Oh boy.
I took a deep breath and tried very hard to focus on my screen. Maybe this view was too good.
“You look tired,” I said, not looking up again.
What can I write down? Brooke, I'm going to kill you.
Okay, that made me feel better.
“Yeah,” Liam said on a low exhale. “I haven’t been sleeping great lately.” He headed toward the coffeemaker, stretching one arm up to the cupboard like it was a slow-motion ad for muscle tone.
And then he paused, his hand brushing across his chest like he’d only just noticed he was half-dressed.
My eyes snapped back to my laptop screen, cheeks warming. Yep. Too good.
Without a word, he pivoted and disappeared down the hall.
I adjusted the brightness on my screen, like that might help recalibrate my brain.
A minute later, he was back. T-shirt on, jaw set like he’d been caught doing something wrong.
He didn’t say anything, just moved toward the coffee like nothing happened. I finally glanced back up.
The shirt helped.
A little.
I drew in a quiet breath and tried to think about…
What was I doing? Maeve. Right.
He offered a faint smile. "You’re, uh… already on the warpath."
"I prefer to think of it as productive."
He walked over to my little war room and slid a mug next to my notes.
I slid the notepad toward him, tapping two names I’d circled. "Both are top-tier neurologists. One’s at Johns Hopkins. The other’s here, just uptown. If Maeve hasn’t had a full panel yet, they’ll run it. And they’ll listen."
He looked down at the paper, but didn’t touch it. "How did you know who to call?"
I shrugged. "When you work in my field, you learn whose brains are worth borrowing."
Liam pulled out a chair across from me but didn’t sit right away. His hand brushed the backrest. He looked like he wanted to say something.
Had I overstepped? First I’d moved in, now I was taking over not just his kitchen but his sister’s care plan. Was I bulldozing my way into his life like some kind of well-meaning hurricane?
I folded my hands in my lap, trying to look composed. Trying not to look like I suddenly wanted to crawl under the table.
"Did I overstep?" I asked.
That got his eyes back on mine. Green, sharp, still shadowed with sleep. "No. Claire, this… this is more than I could’ve asked."
“Liam,” I said gently. "Maybe that’s why I’m here." I smiled as I softly exhaled. “This is something I’m good at. Besides, it’s a lot for you to handle alone.”
He sat then, one knee bumping mine under the table. I didn’t move.
"So," I continued, shifting back to professional mode, "Maeve’s symptoms are vague but concerning. Muscle weakness, some coordination issues. She hasn’t had a neuro workup yet. Reflex tests, EMG scans."
He shook his head. "She’s had bloodwork and basic stuff, but not a full workup. They mentioned doing genetic testing next. That’s what scared her."
"Understandably. Genetic testing can be overwhelming, especially when there’s a possibility of something like Huntington’s."
He flinched at the word. I softened.
"Liam, I’ll walk her through it. I won’t bombard her with jargon. And if it’s not Huntington’s, we’ll figure out what else it could be."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table, brow furrowed. "Do you think it might be something else?"
I hesitated. "Honestly? There are a dozen other conditions that can cause similar symptoms. Some of them are very treatable. But it’s too early to guess.
What she needs is a doctor who listens, and who won’t rush to a worst-case diagnosis.
Her primary care doctor is doing the right things first, running several different blood tests.
Start simple before ordering the more invasive ones. "
His shoulders relaxed a little. Just a little.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
I shrugged again, but my chest felt warm.
"This is the part of practicing medicine that was always hard for me. The part where I didn’t know what was going on yet.” I paused, considering all those patients waiting for the final verdict. “Watching my patients in limbo.”
I looked down, self-conscious.
Then I looked at Liam. I could see the worry in his eyes.
“And it's harder when it's family.”
His eyes flicked up.
I sat up a bit. OK, let me clarify what I mean. Maeve nor Liam are my family.
“I mean it's hard when I am talking to someone who loves the patient.”
I reached across the table and gently squeezed his hand.
And it's harder when the person I'm talking to means something to me.
I exhale, quickly release his hand, and reach for my coffee.
“I was thinking maybe Maeve and I could FaceTime, and I can bring her up to speed with what I am thinking and get her thoughts on which doctor she might want to see.”
"Claire." His expression shifted, just barely. A flicker behind his eyes, like I’d touched on something.
His voice was lower, closer. His hand was grabbing the edge of the table. "Sit. Finish your coffee."
I did. He didn’t say anything for a while. Just sat there, elbows on knees, hands clasped.
“Liam, if I am overstepping, just tell me.”
He continued to inspect his clasped hands.
“It’s hard reading the patient when I can’t see their facial expression. Plus, I want Maeve to see a friendly face. Another person in her corner.”
Finally, he turned.
"You make it sound simple.” Then, almost under his breath, "She’ll see what I see."
Which is what?
I didn’t ask what that meant. I had bulldozed my way in enough already.
He didn’t offer.
Instead, we sat in silence for another breath or two. Not awkward. Not entirely. Just… weighty.
"When you’re ready," I said. "Let her know. And I’ll be here."
By the time I got back to the apartment, the light had shifted—late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor. I’d picked up a rotisserie chicken, just in case Liam didn't feel like cooking.
My brain was still buzzing, two returned calls, three emails out, and a pending response from the specialist uptown. Maybe it was just the weight of the day finally catching up with me.
The door clicked shut behind me, and almost immediately, a phone rang. It wasn't mine. I didn't see Liam. What I did see was his phone, on the coffee table.
I glanced down.
Maeve.
I didn’t think. Just picked it up and answered.
“Maeve? Hi, it’s Claire. Nice to meet you. Well, phone-meet you. I just got in. I don’t know where Liam is, but—”
A door creaked behind me.
Liam stepped out of his room, tugging his sleeve down his forearm. He was already dressed, mostly, hair still damp from a shower, eyes sharp looking at me talking into his phone.
I held out the phone, mouthed, “It’s Maeve.”
His whole body shifted. Like someone had flipped a switch from sleep to alert. His jaw tightened. Shoulders squared. The bracing-for-impact kind of posture I recognized all too well.
I started to hand him the phone and step back, but his hand caught mine.
He looked at the phone, then at me. “Hold on, Maeve,” he said, quickly hitting mute, but not taking the phone from me. “Can you stay?”
His fingers were still wrapped around mine.
My heart gave a traitorous little thump.
“Sure,” I said, a little too fast.
He unmuted the call, put it on speaker, and sat. I eased down beside him on the edge of the couch, trying not to overanalyze the half inch between us. I held the phone in my palm, facing up and held it close to him.
“Hey.” His voice had dropped to something softer. “What’s going on, Maeve?”
There was a pause on the other end. Then Maeve spoke.
“The results came in. The genetic test. It’s negative.”
I looked at Liam. His face didn’t move, but his entire body exhaled. Like whatever string had been holding him up finally let go.
“It’s not Huntington’s,” Maeve continued. “They don’t know what it is yet, but… we know one thing it’s not.”
Liam still hadn’t said anything. Just sat there, breathing slowly, his hands curled into fists.
I reached out and pressed the speaker button off. Lifted the phone to my ear.
“Maeve, that’s the best news we could’ve gotten today,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Let’s stay in touch, okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
I clicked the phone off.
And suddenly, the whole apartment felt different.
I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been holding my breath until I leaned into Liam’s side and let my forehead rest against his shoulder.
“I’m so relieved,” I whispered.
Then caught myself. Pulled back an inch. “I mean, you should be the one relieved. Sorry.”
He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me. Then, gently, he pulled me into an awkward sort of side hug.
It wasn’t tight. It wasn’t long.
My arms stayed at my sides, stunned into stillness.
I caught the clean, subtle scent of soap and something earthy, like cedar and sun. My breath caught before I could stop it.
“I’ve never been so happy to know what disease it’s not,” he said into my hair.
I nodded into his shoulder, still holding the phone in one hand like I didn’t know what to do with it.
Eventually, I leaned back.
A little awkward.
Cleared my throat. “Here’s your phone.”
He took it, our fingers brushing for a second too long.
I squeezed his forearm once, grabbed the shopping bag and stood. “I’ll put this in the fridge,” I said, giving us both a breath. As I moved to the kitchen, he exhaled, leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.
We were both tired, so we ate quietly, cleaned up, and called it a night.
Of course, I couldn’t sleep.
And everyone knows that going to the balcony to stare at the constellations helps when you're trying to clear your head. Or feel something. Or remember how small we all are.
Okay. Maybe that was just me.
I slid the door open quietly and stepped out into the night. The air was cooler than I expected. I wrapped my arms around myself trying to keep myself warm. I looked up, searching for Orion because that's what I always looked for first.
A minute later, I heard the balcony door open.
Liam.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just came to stand beside me at the railing, close enough that our arms might’ve touched if I shifted even slightly.
“I thought I might find you here,” he said.
I smiled faintly, still looking out. He turned slightly, so he was facing me, leaning one elbow on the railing.
I didn’t move.
He was so close that I could feel the heat radiating off him. Not cold anymore. I might actually start to sweat.
“You made today easier,” he said, voice quiet.
A pause.
“You make things better, Claire.”
I turned to look at him, but he was already heading back inside.
I closed my eyes, and stayed where I was. Let the air cool my skin. Let my heartbeat settle.
Then tilted my head back toward the stars and whispered, “Maybe the universe is paying attention.”