Seventeen
Ethan
Two Days Later
“Lily! Open the door!” I bellow, my fist hammering against the solid wood, each thud echoing the frantic beat in my chest.
She didn’t reply to any of my messages all day. The silence that lingered between my unanswered messages felt wrong.
No response, only the sickening, unending sound of Ollie’s wails, muffled from inside.
I vault over the porch railing, landing in Lily’s flower bed.
I slap my palms against the cool glass of the living room window, pressing my face against it to find a way in, but the damn blackout shades are drawn tight.
“Fuck.” I push off the house and scramble back to the door, my mind racing through a hundred worst-case scenarios.
I fumble for my phone, my fingers slick with sweat as I start to dial 9-1-1, when Ollie’s cries, coming closer, intensify.
I hear the sound of the doorknob being jiggled from the inside.
“Ollie, it’s me, Ethan. Can you open the door for me?” I call out.
“Ethan!” he wails, the sound tearing through me. “Mama isn’t waking up!”
My heart plummets, and my knees feel weak.
“Hey, buddy, can you open the door for me?” I ask again, forcing the words out, trying for calm, but inside, I am a fucking mess.
The doorknob jiggles again. “I can’t open it,” Ollie cries.
Fuck. I forgot about the deadbolt.
I pace, frantic, my foot catching on something. It’s the goddamn ceramic gnome Lily insisted on when we were married. She still kept it. As it topples over, something glints in the light. My breath hitches. The spare key. It’s tucked neatly under its mushroom cap.
I snatch it up and shove it into the lock. The click is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
“I’m coming in, bud!” I call out. The moment the door swings open, Ollie flies into my arms. He clings to me and buries his face in my shoulder, his small body wracked with sobs.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, little man. I’m here,” I murmur, pulling him tight against me.
“Where’s your mom?”
“In the bedroom,” he cries.
“Okay,” I soothe, my hand stroking his back. “Let’s go take a look.”
We rush down the short hallway, the floorboards creaking under my weight. I push open the bedroom door and feel the ground opening beneath me, ready to swallow me whole into my personal hell.
Lily.
She’s lying on the floor face down, a crumpled heap next to the bed.
No. No, no, no.
I gently set Ollie down, kneeling so I am eye level with him, and grip his shoulders. “I need you to stay here, okay? Right here by the door. I need to check on your mom.”
He nods, his eyes wide and red-rimmed, a fresh sniffle escaping him.
I press a kiss to his forehead, ruffling his hair. “It’s going to be okay.”
I rush across the room and drop to my knees beside Lily.
Her skin is unnaturally pale, almost translucent in the dim light, and cool to the touch.
I search for a pulse on her wrist. One agonizing second stretches into two, then three…
And then a faint, thready beat, a whisper of life beneath my thumb. A shuddering sigh escapes my lips.
“Lily? Can you hear me?” I whisper.
A low groan, a small shift of her head.
Alive. She’s alive.
The fluorescent lights in the emergency room waiting area buzz overhead. Ollie leans heavily against me, his small voice breaking through the tension. “I wanna see Mama.”
“We’ll see her soon, buddy,” I promise.
A nurse, a kind-faced woman with tired eyes, emerges from the double doors. “Hi. Are you Lily’s husband?” she asks.
“Yes,” I answer automatically. Even after the divorce, after everything, that word still feels like the truth.
“She’s going to be fine,” the nurse begins, a reassuring smile on her face. “This frequently happens after a patient goes through chemo treatment—”
“Wait? What did you say?”
Chemo treatment? No. That can’t be right.
Her smile falters. “The chemotherapy treatment affected her lungs. That’s why she passed out.”
“Ch-chemo treatment as in... for cancer?” The word feels like ash on my tongue.
She nods, her gaze dropping to the chart in her hands. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t aware.”
I am frozen solid. Cancer? My Lily? The sterile walls seem to close in, the humming lights suddenly blinding.
“Ethan!” Sam’s voice cuts through the fog. I slowly turn my head to see Sam, Jake, Maddy, and Lily’s parents hurrying toward us, their faces full of worry.
“How is she?” Coral, Lily’s mom, asks, her voice trembling.
“Cancer?” I spit out. A heavy, suffocating silence follows. It screams volumes. They all knew. Everyone but me. Even my own children. Maddy and Jake look away, their faces etched with guilt.
My eyes snap to Sam. “Lily has cancer?”
“Yes. Breast cancer,” she whispers, her unwavering gaze meeting mine.
I stumble backward, the floor suddenly uneven beneath my feet. My mind goes blank, then races, trying to process the impossible words. “Wh-what? How—” I blow out a breath, a long, shaky exhale that does nothing to quell the tremor starting deep in my chest. I hand Ollie over into Coral’s arms.
I take a few steps toward the small window overlooking the parking lot. Every breath is a fight against the tightness seizing my throat. I brace my hands against the cool sill, keeping my head bowed, my eyes fixed on nothing.
“What stage?” The words are barely a whisper.
“Three,” Sam responds.
My whole body begins to shake violently. She’s been battling this life sentence, this insidious disease, and I have been completely left in the dark.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I demand.
“She was going to,” Sam says, her voice strained. “It was up to Lily, but she was trying to find the right time to tell you.”
“But she’s the mother of my children,” I croak, spinning around to face them. “My children carried this burden without my support. How could she do this?”
“Ethan, for God’s sake, lower your voice,” Richard, Lily’s father, says, stepping in front of me, his body blocking my view of everyone in the room.
His hand clamps down on my shoulder. “Do not react like this in front of your children. Think about them. Look at them, Ethan. This isn’t about you right now. This affects them more than anyone.”
“But she didn’t tell me,” I repeat, my voice cracking on the last word. A fresh wave of betrayal and terror threatens to buckle my knees.
“I understand,” Rick says, squeezing my shoulders. “You need to give her the opportunity to tell you herself. This is your chance to make things right, not just between the two of you, but for your family.”
His gaze is intense and unblinking. “She needs you, Ethan. More than ever.” He glances over his shoulder, then back to me. “They need you.”
He’s right.
My Sunshine needs me.
My children need me.
And come hell or high water, I will never leave them to battle this alone.