Love Me: Oakville Series:Book 5 (9 page)

Amber is the first to let go. “I’m going to make some coffee.” Amber sniffles, then hurries away. My throat is sore and my head aches as I take a seat on one of the stools. Chelsie leaves the kitchen and returns with a box of tissues. She hands me a couple and I give her a small smile in thanks. Returning the smile, she then proceeds to give one to Holly and Amber. I blow my nose with one and use the other to dry my eyes, feeling a little better now that I’ve cried some of this tension out.

We are all quiet while Amber fixes our coffees. I’m trying to prepare myself for all the questions I know they’ll have for me. I imagine they are all thinking that with some chemo or a surgery everything will be fine, but it won’t. I’ve been given a death sentence. Sometimes I wonder if it’s actually sinking in for Marcus. With him avoiding the topic of all the plans we need to make while I still can, it doesn’t seem like he believes I won’t get better. I’m all for hope, but there’s no hope for me. I’ve read so much research on this type of cancer, I know my days are limited, and no amount of chemo will fix it.

Amber sets a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. I bring the mug up to my nose and inhale deeply in an attempt to calm my nerves a bit, but it doesn’t work. Worry gnaws at me. By the sullen looks they’re all already wearing, I know they aren’t going to take the news well. When they all look at me, I take a deep breath and tell them all the details.

“How long will you be taking chemo or radiation to get rid of it?” Amber asks, as if chemo is the answer. Bile rises in my throat. I’m about to crush three women I love dearly.

“The chemo is only going to give me a couple extra months. This cancer isn’t going away,” I say. A resounding gasp has me biting my lip in effort to keep from breaking down once more. Amber’s hand covers her mouth, Holly’s eyes immediately fill with tears, and Chelsie’s eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. I tear at a napkin in front of me, reverting my eyes.

“What do you mean?” Holly asks in a shaky voice, and I blow out a breath, looking back up. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.

“This type of cancer is very aggressive and there’s nothing that will make it go away. I’m going to die,” I explain, and the pain on their faces mixed with the tears streaming down their cheeks is hard to take.

“No,” Holly states, shaking her head. “I don’t buy it. There has to be something. We’ll find a specialist.” I reach over to grab her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Believe me, I know this is hard to understand, but there is nothing that can be done.”

“How long do you have?” Amber questions in a whisper, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment, but I don’t blame her. It was the first question that popped into my head as well.

“Without any treatment...a month or two. With treatment, possibly four or five. They can’t really be sure,” I tell them. They all look completely devastated. Their eyes are wide and filling with tears. The smiles that typically grace their beautiful faces are gone, replaced with deep frowns. Within seconds, we are all openly bawling and wrapped in another group hug. How am I going to say goodbye to people I love so much? This whole thing sucks. It’s so unfair. I’m too young to die. There are so many things left for me to do, but I’ll never have near enough time to do any of it. The time I do have left will be spent with my body slowly deteriorating.

We spend the next two hours with the girls promising to be here for anything I need and then trying to cheer me up. I force myself to smile and giggle when it’s expected, but deep inside, I’m crying and screaming. This is not how I envisioned my life turning out. The girls clean their mugs and start to round up their children. Angel and Chelsie take a very excited Chase home with them for the night, and for that, I’m grateful. I’m so damn tired of pretending I’m okay. It’ll be nice to have a little time to myself to just sit here and cry.

When I close the door behind them, I fall back against it and let the tears fall. My cries echo throughout the house and eventually turn into screams as anger begins to sear through me. The tears slow and every muscle in my body tenses. Jumping up off the floor, I storm to the table, pick up a crystal vase that sits in the middle, and with a growl, I hurl it against the wall. Crystal shards spray across the entryway, catching the sunlight and causing them to sparkle as they fall to the floor. “That felt good,” I say to myself, reaching for something else to throw.

I
stayed with the guys a lot longer than I intended. It was difficult to leave them. They took the news of Taryn’s cancer harder than I thought they would. I could see them all thinking of what it would be like if it were their wives. Their hearts were visibly breaking right in front of me. You hear about how cancer affects more than just the person who has it, but you don’t know the extent of its reach until you’re faced with it. Seeing my friends hurting just as badly as I am is eye opening. They hurt for me, for Taryn…for themselves. They love her like a sister and it’s tearing them apart too. I hate that our problems are affecting them, but at the same time, it’s nice to know they care so much for us.

I take a deep breath before turning the knob on the front door. Taryn and I have a lot to talk about, but I just can’t bring myself to have a conversation about how soon my wife is going to die. The tightening of my chest makes breathing more difficult. Tears sting my eyes as I think of the fact that I have less than a handful of months left with my wife. We should have years. Many years. Chase is going to miss out on so much. He hasn’t had enough time with his mother, and neither have I.

As I step into the foyer and close the door behind me, something crunches beneath my shoe. I lift my foot and see glass on the tile. Glancing around the room, I take in the holes in the walls where pictures used to hang. The table inside the foyer is empty and tipped over, all of Taryn’s favorite crystal pieces spread out throughout the foyer and living room in shards on the tile and carpet. It looks as though a tornado came through the house and destroyed everything in its wake.

Walking a little farther into the house, worry gnaws at me. What if someone broke in? A pained scream fills my ears and fear twists in my gut. My feet seem to be moving in slow motion as I make my way toward the back of the house. The loud sounds of glass breaking mixed with sorrowful sobs slice through me. Fear hits me like icy water. My pace quickens and I race into the family room. When I get to the doorway, the fear is gone, replaced with a sadness that completely shatters me. Taryn tears through the room, sobbing between her angry growls. She removes pictures from the walls, throwing them to the floor and shattering them to pieces. Her face is bright red, her chest heaving. Nothing breakable is safe from her wrath right now. Every knick knack or vase she finds is sent flying through the air. I don’t know whether to stop her or allow her to keep going. It’s obvious she needs to get some of this anger out, but I don’t think there’s much left for her to destroy. Before I can make a decision, she turns and sees me in the doorway.

Heat creeps into her cheeks as embarrassment washes over her, and it tugs at my heart. She shouldn’t be ashamed. She has every right to be angry. Taryn looks around the room and winces. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” she says, and I try to tell her she doesn’t need to apologize, that she’s allowed to be angry, but the words I want to say won’t form. Her eyes fill with tears again and she turns from me. Her legs visibly wobble as if they’re about to give out. Rushing toward her, I wrap my arms around her, pull her tightly to me, her back against my front, and hold on for dear life. I lower us both to the floor and rock her, allowing her to let it all out. Soon, I’m burying my face into her back and letting my own emotions go. When my shoulders begin to shake from my cries, she begins to cry even harder.

I have no idea how long we sit like this. My ass has fallen asleep and my back aches. Taryn’s loud sobs have turned into a combination of constant sharp intakes of breath and small hiccups. “What are we going to do? I don’t know if I can handle this, Marcus. I’m not ready to die,” she whispers, and my heart disintegrates in my chest. How do I respond to that? The only thing I can think to do is be honest. We have always been truthful with each other, no matter what.

“I’m not ready for you to die either, sweetness.” The words feel like acid leaving my mouth. “I’m so scared,” I admit. Scooting from my lap, she leans her back against the wall and I slide next to her, doing the same. We sit shoulder to shoulder in silence for a while.

“If I do the chemo, it’s going to make me really sick, and I’m not sure I want to go through that in order to only gain a month or two without being able to enjoy them.” I want to tell her if she wants to forego the chemo, then that’s what she should do. I want to tell her this is her choice, but I can’t. If there is even a chance this could work, that the chemo could save her, I’ll be selfish.

“I need every extra second I can get with you. Please, sweetness. What if it actually works?” Miracles happen all the time, and she could be that miracle, but we’d never know without trying it. Her face falls. The disappointment she’s feeling right now is evident on her face. She thought I’d be the man I should be and not ask her to do this, but I’m not. The thought of doing nothing makes my stomach twist. How can she expect me to sit by and watch her slowly die? We need to do everything we can to keep her here with us, no matter what.

“Marcus, you need to understand that I am going to die. Nothing is going to make this cancer go away,” she states, her tone forceful. “I know you want to believe that some miracle will occur, but it’s not going to happen.” Her words cause my blood to boil.

“Do you care about Chase and me at all?” I snap, and instantly regret my choice of words. Her face begins to morph from sad to angry. One minute, she looks like a lost little puppy, and the next, a furious beast. Her nostrils flare as fury flashes over her face. Quickly, she stands up and walks across the room to the last glass vase left. Picking it up, she hurls it in my direction. Shocked by her actions, I barely get out of the way before the vase slams against the wall right next to my head, shattering, the pieces raining down over me and the floor.

Big ugly tears begin to roll down her cheeks. I stand and take a step toward her, but she holds her hand up. “You son of a bitch!” she screams. “How can you even think that, let alone say it out loud? I don’t want to take the chemo because I’d rather spend as much time as I can with you both without being weak and puking every second. I want to keep things as normal as possible for as long as possible.” She inhales deep, trying to rein in her emotions.

“But what if the chemo makes it go away? Isn’t it worth trying for us? We need you.” I run my hands through my hair in frustration. Slowly, she walks closer to me, stopping a few feet away. Her eyes plead with me to hear her, but I don’t want to hear her if all she’s going to say is she’s giving up. When did she become so weak?