Raven
The clubhouse feels the way it always has. Coffee that's been reheated too many times. Worn leather. The low drone of a college football game fills the room while late afternoon sunlight filters through the front windows.
For a second, the familiarity of it almost makes me forget why we came.
Almost.
Knox doesn't notice us at first.
He's stretched out on one end of the couch, a mug of coffee within reach and the remote balanced on his thigh, half-watching a college football game with the volume turned low.
The front door clicks shut.
He glances over, surprised to see us.
"Hey," he says. "Didn't expect to see you two."
His eyes move from me to Sam. Whatever he sees wipes the easy smile from his face. The remote lands on the coffee table as he sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees.
"What's going on?"
My chest tightens.
Sam's hand slips lower until his fingers find mine, weaving through them without a word.
I hold on.
Because once I say the words, nothing will ever be the same again.
"We need to talk to you," I say.
Knox studies my face for a long second. "Rae..."
It's the way he says my name that undoes me.
Not questioning.
Not impatient.
Worried.
"Can we go somewhere private?"
He doesn't ask why. He just stands. "Come on."
We follow him down the hallway toward his office. The television continues behind us, the announcer's voice rising over a big play as though the afternoon hasn't changed.
By the time Knox closes the office door behind us, it feels like we've stepped into another world.
The room is small but familiar, a battered desk against one wall, filing cabinets, a couch that has definitely seen better days.
He turns back toward us. Whatever he sees in my face makes his shoulders go still.
“What is it?” he asks quietly.
“I went to the doctor a few weeks ago,” I say, looking at my brother.
Knox nods once, already impatient. “Okay.”
“I thought I might be pregnant.”
That gets his attention. His brows lift slightly. “And?”
“They ran some tests.”
The silence stretches long enough that his expression begins to harden.
“Raven.”
“I’m sick, Knox.”
He stares at me for a moment before gesturing toward the couch. “Sit down.”
I glance at Sam, then walk over and sit. Sam lowers himself beside me, his hand immediately finding mine again.
Knox stays on his feet for another second before dragging a chair closer and dropping into it, elbows braced on his knees.
“Start talking,” he says.
I take a slow breath, trying to steady something that already feels too big for the room. “I have cancer.”
For a moment, nothing happens. Knox just sits there staring at me. Then, he shakes his head once.
“No.”
The word comes out automatic. Immediate.
“They caught it late,” I continue quietly.
“Stop.” His voice cuts through the room sharp enough to make the air feel brittle.
“Stop talking like that.” His gaze moves to Sam, searching for confirmation. “Tell her to stop.”
Sam doesn’t move.
Knox’s hand slowly curls into a fist at his side. “Tell her to fucking stop, Wolf.”
"It's ovarian cancer," Sam continues, his voice calm, steady in a way that makes the words impossible to dismiss.
Knox's face drains of color. "No." He surges to his feet so fast the chair tips backward, crashing onto the floor. “That’s impossible.”
A hand drags over the back of his neck as he paces once across the office, then back again.
"What did they actually say?"
"They found a mass," Sam answers. "The pathology confirmed it's ovarian cancer."
Knox looks from Sam to me. "Okay, so they operate."
I don't answer.
"Rae..."
"They can't."
His head snaps to me. "Why the hell not?"
Sam answers this time. "It's already spread."
The room goes quiet.
Knox stares at him for a long second, trying to force those words into something that makes sense.
"Spread where?"
"It's not just the ovary anymore," he says quietly. "It's spread through her abdomen and around her organs."
His jaw tightens. "So they do chemo first. Shrink it. Then surgery."
"The doctor said surgery isn't an option."
"Then we’ll find another doctor."
The answer comes so fast it almost overlaps mine.
Knox reaches for his phone, already unlocking it. "We'll find somebody else. Pittsburgh. Philly. New York. I don't care where they are." His thumb flies across the screen. "Somebody out there has another answer."
Sam nods once. "I've already sent everything to a specialist in California."
Knox looks up. "And?"
"I left a message and am waiting to hear back."
“A second opinion isn’t enough.” His mind is already somewhere else. “We’ll get as many sets of eyes on this as we can.”
I shake my head. "They're not going to tell us anything different."
His eyes snap to mine. "You don't know that."
He starts pacing again, one hand dragging through his hair as though he can think his way out of this.
"Knox."
He doesn't stop.
"There has to be somebody. Another hospital. Another trial. Something."
"Knox." This time my voice is firmer.
He looks at me.
"Please."
The single word hangs between us.
His gaze searches my face before drifting to the chair lying on its side. Slowly, he bends to pick it up. The legs thump softly against the floor as he sets it upright again.
"Sit down."
He hesitates.
"Please," I say again. "Just listen to me."
For a long moment, I don't think he's going to do it. But then he lowers himself into the chair, every movement reluctant, as though sitting down means admitting this conversation is real.
I don't let go of his eyes. "I need you to hear me."
He swallows hard. "I'm listening."
I take a breath. "The cancer has spread too far for them to remove it."
He doesn't interrupt.
"The doctor said chemotherapy might slow it down for a while." My voice wavers for the first time. "But it won't cure it."
His brow furrows, his eyes searching mine. "Rae..." The way he says my name almost undoes me. "What are you trying to tell me?"
I feel my throat tighten. "The doctor said..." My voice catches. I swallow and try again. "He said I only have months.”
The phone slips from his hand onto the floor with a dull thud.
"No." It's barely more than a whisper. Then his head lifts. "Bullshit. I refuse to accept that." This time, the words come with anger.
He shoves a hand through his hair and starts pacing again.
"We’ll keep looking. California, New York, Boston—I don't give a damn where they are. Somebody out there has another answer."
"Knox..."
"No." His voice is firm now, refusing to leave any room for doubt. "The doctors here are wrong."
"They're not."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
Silence settles over the room.
I wait until he's looking at me again. "I'm not going to do chemotherapy."
His entire body goes still. "What?"
"I'm not doing treatment."
Disbelief hardens into rage. "Why the hell not?"
"Because it won't change where this ends."
"It could give you more time."
"A little."
"A little is still time."
"I know."
"Then why wouldn't you take it?"
I swallow against the ache in my throat. "Because I don't want whatever time I have left to belong to hospitals. I don't want to spend my last weeks sick from treatments that can't save me when I could be living the life I still have."
"That isn't your decision to make."
"It has to be,” I say quietly.
"You don't get to just give up."
The words hurt because I know where they came from.
"I'm not giving up."
"It sure as hell sounds like it."
I shake my head. "I'm choosing how I spend the time I have left."
"Oh, that's great." Knox lets out a short, humorless laugh. "That's real comforting."
He stares at me. For the first time since we walked into this office, he doesn't have another argument. His shoulders sag beneath the weight of everything he can't fix.
"Jesus, Rae..."
The anger is gone.
All that's left is my brother.
"You're my little sister."
My throat tightens. "I know."
He shakes his head once, his eyes never leaving mine.
"You can't..." His voice catches. He swallows hard and tries again. "You can't leave me."
The words find every place inside me that's already breaking.
I don't remember crossing the room. One second we're standing apart, the next my arms are around him. For the briefest moment, he doesn't move.
Then he folds me against him with both arms, holding me so tightly it almost hurts.
I feel his breath hitch against my shoulder.
Another one.
His fingers tighten in the back of my shirt.
"I've got you," I whisper, my own tears slipping free. "I've got you."
He buries his face against my shoulder, and for the first time in my life, my big brother lets me be the one holding him together.