When Isla’s lunch was brought in, she screwed up her nose and sent me scampering to the cafeteria to buy chicken nuggets and hoping we'd be home by the time dinner came.
“Mr. Steele?” An older gentleman in a long white lab coat asked, stepping into the room, flanked by a nurse.
The fear was instant.
Now was the moment of truth.
Up until now I’d been telling myself everything was okay, that it was nothing, now I wasn’t so convinced.
“Isla’s results are back.”
Grabbing my phone, I text Charlotte hoping she was on her way. I had a sinking feeling I was going to need her.
Bursting through the door, Charlotte almost tripped over her own feet, before rushing toward the bed, grabbing my hand and Isla’s.
“Sorry! I was finishing up with a patient.”
“Doctor Rowe.” The serious old doctor looked down his nose at her.
“Doctor Reynolds.”
“Right, unless we’re waiting on anyone else …”
“We’re not,” I confirmed.
“Okay then. Like I was saying, Isla’s test results are back and something’s shown up.”
“What?”
Fuck! Just put me out of my misery. Whatever it was, we’d deal with it. If it was a virus, we’d take the medications. If it was something else, then we’d deal with that too. Just tell me already.
“Isla’s test results have shown she has an extremely low red blood cell count. It explains why she’s been so lethargic, dizzy, and has had the headaches.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked, needing him to spell it out for me.
Right now, my mind was running away from me and I needed him to tell it to me straight.
“Isla has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia,” he declared, looking everywhere but at me.
“Leukemia? You’re telling me my daughter has cancer?” I gasped barely able to say the word.
From the other side of the bed, Charlotte squeezed my hand and when I looked over at her, she had wide, tear filled eyes.
“I’m sorry Mr. Steele. But unfortunately, yes.”
Fuck! My daughter had cancer. My six-year-old daughter, had cancer. She was my family. The most important thing in my world, and she had cancer. And there was not a fucking thing I could do about it.
23
CHARLOTTE
“Is it true?”
“Huh?” I looked at Liam like he’d grown a second head. What was he talking about now?
“Is it true? Your boyfriend's daughter’s got leukemia?”
“Yeah, it’s true,” I answered as I collapsed into one of the visitors’ chairs in my office.
