20. Bailey
bailey
. . .
Rachel worked her magic and got me on a redeye flight.
I watched September bleed into October somewhere over the Canadian border, the darkness outside the plane swallowing the last of summer whole.
I watched it happen, forehead pressed to the window, feeling like I was crossing more than just a line on a map.
My mind has been a jumbled mess of worst-case scenarios since Cole called.
Sadie needs you.
We need you.
The words have replayed on a loop, layered over the low hum of the engines, over the flight attendant’s polite instructions, over the soft snoring of strangers who get to sleep because their world hasn’t tilted.
Everyone is ok.
The baby is ok.
That has been my internal mantra for hours.
I repeat it when the landing gear drops.
When the wheels hit the runway harder than I expected.
When my hands won’t stop shaking long enough to pull my phone from my pocket.
I am jumpy when we taxi. Flinching at nothing.
Hoping no one recognizes me because I am definitely not myself right now. No makeup. No armour. No smile ready.
Rachel promised she’d buy me time with the label while I sorted out whatever was happening at home. She said it calmly. Like it was manageable. Like we weren’t balancing contracts and timelines against something unnamed and terrifying.
Everyone is ok.
The baby is ok.
I had a car arranged to drive me home. I didn’t tell anyone at the compound when I was landing, not sure what was happening there, not sure what I was walking into.
The driver doesn’t speak much, he’s professional in all the ways I appreciate right now.
The city fades quickly behind us. Concrete softens into fields.
The mountains rise in the distance like they always have, steady, indifferent.
The drive from the city to the mountains feels so different than the last time I was home.
The last time, I still had a sliver of hope that Luke would show up for me.
That he would walk into a room and choose me the way he used to.
That I wasn’t the only one still gripping the rope of a marriage already frayed through.
Months later, I know better. I know I will have to come to terms with my feelings. I know I will have to push my lawyer to get a response from Luke. I know I will eventually have to untangle what’s left of us. But I need to get home first.
The closer we get to the property, the heavier the feeling in my gut becomes. It spreads outward, into my ribs, up my throat. The worse the worry and panic.
We finally got here. Got to this moment where everyone can be together. Where two of the houses are finished, two more are being built, and the barns are full of activity, the orchard is producing, and the future feels solid.
This can’t…
Everyone will be ok.
Sadie is ok.
The roads wind, and we start the climb to where I know the property will come into view any minute.
My pulse pounds in my ears. The sky is starting to lighten, the first streaks of sunrise breaking over the mountains.
The light is almost offensively bright, for what’s twisting inside me.
We crest over into the flat land where our compound settles, and the view steals my breath like it always does.
Green is giving way to orange, red, and yellow.
The trees look like they’re on fire. The fields are golden now, not summer green.
The apple orchards are alive, bins full of fruit.
They’ve been busy.
I feel tears slipping down my cheeks before I realize I’m crying.
I don’t wipe them away, I let them fall while I stare at the sun rising over a blanket of fall colours so beautiful it almost hurts to look at.
I don’t know if the tears are for Luke, the anxiety clawing up my spine, or the exhaustion that has settled into my bones after months of performing, smiling, and being exactly who everyone needs me to be.
Or for the possibility that everything I built might not be enough.
I messaged Cole as soon as I got through security, letting him know when to expect me.
We pull into the long drive, and the gravel crunches under the tires. My anxiety ratchets up with every foot closer to the houses.
Sadie is ok.
The baby is ok.
We drive past the common areas. One of the work barns is full of activity, doors thrown wide open. I see Thomas step out, wiping his hands on a rag. He squints toward the car, then grabs an ATV and follows behind us.
Is he following because he wants to see me? Or because it’s bad and he feels like he needs to be there when I find out?
Sadie needs you.
Is Cole ok? Is something wrong with him? Is that why she needs me?
The car stops outside Sadie and Cole’s house and I immediately see Noah waiting on the porch.
There’s a look on his face I can’t name at first. Not anger. Not confusion. Grief.
It hits me a second too late, but the impact is still staggering.
Sadie…. Sadie has to be ok.
The driver moves to get out and open my door, but Thomas beats him to it. He pulls the door open and reaches for me before I’m even fully upright. I step into his embrace, and he holds on too long.
That’s when I know.
He doesn’t say welcome home.
He doesn’t say we missed you.
He just squeezes me like he’s bracing me for impact.
I don’t grab my bags, or say anything to Noah.
I run.
Up the steps. Through the open front door. My boots skid slightly on the hardwood, and I nearly lost my footing.
I round the corner into the kitchen…
And I see her.
Sadie.
She looks thinner than she did on our video calls. Like the light inside her is dimmer. Her cheeks are hollowed slightly. Her collarbone is sharper. Her sweater hangs differently on her frame.
I suck in a breath, and her eyes snap up.
Shock registers first, then pain and anger. Her chocolate brown eyes are so expressive when she turns to Cole, who is standing just off to the side like a man already breaking.
“What did you do?” she demands, “Why is she home?”
Her voice has a weakness to it that she didn’t have the last time I saw her in person. Cole doesn’t answer, but his face says everything and it feels like my heart is in my throat.
“Sadie?” I try to ask what is going on, but panic and tears are fighting for space in my chest, and my words keep getting caught halfway out.
She slowly steps around the island, one hand gripping the edge for support.
Support.
My eyes track the movement.
I know.
I KNOW something is wrong.
But I need to hear it, I need the words.
She tries to give me a reassuring smile. It falls flat. I can see the hollow in her face now. The strain around her mouth.
“Bailey, I thought you had to record your last album before you could come home.”
She says it to me, but she keeps shooting a look at Cole.
“She deserves to know,” Cole says, and his voice carries a broken quality I have never heard before.
They stand there staring at each other, whole conversations happening in silence. Decisions already made without me.
The front door opens, and Noah, Thomas, and Rose step inside. The tension in the room thickens.
What aren’t they telling me?
How bad is it?
“Bailey, it is so nice to have you home,” Rose says softly, stepping beside me.
I don’t take my eyes off Sadie. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Thomas place my bags in the entryway. I feel Noah watching me, helpless.
I want to crawl out of my skin. But I feel frozen in place.
“Sadie…” Cole tries again.
“Don’t,” she snaps, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“She deserved to finish what she started,” she says, voice cracking.
A sound close to a wounded animal escapes Cole. “Seriously? You think she would have forgiven you if she found out later? If she found out too late?”
Too late.
My heart slams hard against my ribs. Sadie closes her eyes. When she opens them, she looks directly at me. There is so much pain in her beautiful brown eyes.
“Bailey, do you want to sit down?”
I shake my head no, locked in place. But she is already moving, slow and careful, into the living room. She lowers herself onto the couch like her body weighs more than it should. She pats the cushion beside her. It takes me a second to get my legs to work, but then I’m sitting beside her.
She takes my hand and her skin is cold.
“Sadie?” I croak out.
Nobody else speaks, but I can feel every pair of eyes on me.
“Bailey,” she says softly, “I love you.”
Why does it sound like she is saying goodbye?
“I am sick.”
Sick.
Sick, I can work with.
Sick people get better.
Sick has treatment plans, recovery charts and timelines.
She squeezes my hand, adding, “I started feeling off after the wedding. We thought it was the pregnancy. But after some tests… we discovered that I am… very sick.”
“How sick?” I croak.
She closes her eyes struggling, so Cole answers. “Sadie has cancer, Bailey.” He swallows hard, before adding, “She’s dying.”
The word dying detonates in my chest.
I want to laugh.
This has to be a joke.
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be real.
But when Sadie opens her eyes, and the tears begin to stream down her face steady now, something inside me fractures.
“No.”
I jump up from the couch, nearly tripping over myself.
“No. No. You cannot be dying. What did the doctors say?”
I scan the room frantically for someone who can contradict him. Rose is crying into Thomas’s chest. Noah’s eyes are glossy, fixed on me with grief and pity and something like apology. I spin to Cole, but tears are tracking down his face too.
“No. There has to be something we can do. I don’t understand.”
Cole steps closer, saying, “We are seeing an oncologist in Summit City. It’s advanced, Sadie has Stage IV pancreatic cancer.”
Stage IV.
Pancreatic.
Advanced.
The words float around me, detached. He keeps talking. But it feels like I am underwater.
“This type of cancer is often caught late…”
“…asymptomatic…”
“…treatment options limited during pregnancy…”
Sadie has cancer.
Cancer.
Dying.
“The baby won’t be affected,” Cole says.
That cuts through the noise. I look at Sadie, at her bump under her sweater.
“What if you weren’t pregnant?” I ask before I can stop myself.
Hurt flashes across her face.
Cole scoffs harshly. “The doctor suggested termination when we first found out.”
Sadie wraps her arms around her belly protectively. “It wouldn’t change the outcome. Only prolong it.”
“What does that mean?” My voice is barely there.
“I am dying,” she says quietly. “There is no cure. Just potential treatments to give me a few more months.”
A few more months.
Cole turns away, making a choking sound.
The sunrise outside the window is too bright. The orchard is glowing in gold light. Life is happening. And my sister is dying.
“Maybe we get a second opinion,” I say, my voice shaking but pushing forward. “Maybe we will go somewhere else. Toronto. Los Angeles. There are specialists. Trials. I have money. I have…”
“Bailey.” Her voice stops me. “Come here.”
I don’t want to move. If I sit beside her again, if I let her lean into me, if I accept this...
It becomes real.
“Please,” she whispers.
My knees almost give out, but I force myself back to her. I sit, she curls into my side, and I wrap my arms around her carefully.
She feels so small, so breakable and I am exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Everything in me wants to break. To scream. To collapse into someone else’s arms for once.
But that’s not my role.
I built this life so we would be safe.
I built it so we would have options.
I will fix this.
We will find something.
I will not let this be the end of her story.
I press my cheek to her hair and stare straight ahead at the bright, beautiful morning spilling across the property we once dreamed of.
And I refuse to break.