Because the world is a cruel and unfair place. Because no matter how much we pretend it’s not true, we’re all dying. Some of us are simply doing it faster than others. Because despite how much we wish life was just, that those who’ve suffered so greatly (those like Cash) might enjoy some peace here on earth, the reality is there is no justice. Only happenstance and chance and good luck and bad luck, so we each have to make our days count instead of counting our days.
But I don’t say any of this. The words are locked inside my bloodied heart. All I can manage is, “I wish I knew, sweetheart.”
“You can touch him,” Beckett says. “Talk to him. Studies have shown that the voice of a loved one can lower a sick person’s blood pressure.”
Maggie nods. Then, squaring her shoulders once again, she marches over to Cash’s bedside and gently takes his hand.
“Cash?” She smoothes the hair back from his face. “It’s me. It’s Maggie. Wake up so I can tell you how mad I am at you for keeping this a secret from us. Wake up so I can—” Her voice cracks. Tears slip down her cheeks and drip from her chin. “So I can tell you how much I love you.”
“Why isn’t he hooked up to more machines?” I ask Beckett. All I see are a couple of IVs. “Shouldn’t he have a heart monitor or a—”
“He’s DNR. Do not resuscitate,” Beckett explains. “He doesn’t want any life-saving measures.” He points to one of the IV bags. “We’re giving him fluids, steroids to bring down the swelling, and some pain medication. And that’s all wewillgive him,” he finishes meaningfully.
“Dear God.” I run a shaky hand through my hair, hating that Cash had to make all these terrible decisions on his own. Hating that I wasn’t there with him.
Whydidn’t he tell me? I could have… Hell, I don’t knowwhatI could have done. But I could havehelped.I could haveunderstood.I could have said important and heartfelt things instead of riding his ass about the drinking.
“I’ll give you some privacy.” Beckett quietly slips from the room.
My feet are concrete blocks as I make my way to the opposite side of Cash’s bed. When I take his hand, I feel the lack of flesh. Feel how his knuckles poke through the skin. Again, I’m overcome by guilt.
“Look how skinny he is,” Maggie whispers. “How did we miss that?”
“We didn’t miss it. We simply refused toseeit.”
Her gaze jumps to my face. “Don’t do that, Luc.”
“Do what?”
“Blame yourself.”
My throat is full of sorrow, full of regret. “If not me, then who? Who’s to blame for this?”
She skirts the foot of the bed and wraps her arms around me. She’s small and delicate, and yet the comfort she offers is huge. “I think this is one of those things where thereisno blame. Or, I don’t know. Maybe it’s Rick’s fault. Dr. Beckett said it could be genetic, and that seems about right. That his father would pass on to him something so awful.”
Except it was his mother who died of cancer. It was breast cancer, but still.
Cash moans, and Maggie runs around the bed to take his hand again.
“Cash?” I squeeze his shoulder. “Come on now. Wake up, man.”
His eyes slowly blink open, and there’s confusion in their green depths. “Where am—” He tries to sit up, but Maggie and I both force him to stay down.
“You’re in the hospital,” she says, wiping away the single tear that trickles down her cheek.
Cash focuses on her. Then he glances around the room before his eyes land on me. There’s a question in them. I reckon my face gives him the answer.
He says, “Well, fuck me,” and I almost grin. He’s still him even though his voice is weak. “I take it Dr. Beckett told you? So this is it, huh?”
“Oh, Cash.” Maggie bites her lip, trying to keep more tears from falling. “Why didn’tyoutell us?”
“There wasn’t a damn thing you could’ve done for me, so what would’ve been the point?”
“Thepointwould’ve been so we could tell you every day how much we love you.”
He scoffs, then winces like the noise hurts his head. “It doesn’t take a brain tumor for me to know that.”
“Dammit, Cash.” My voice is raw. “You coulda at leasttriedtherapy. I’ve never known you to run from a fight.”
