I refuse.
Put this on the list of things I never thought I’d have to say to myself.
Definitely not for the second time.
But it’s true. I will not accept this fate.
My traitorous boobs can shove it.
I’m not ready to deal with this.
I cannot.
I want to be happy again. Really truly life-of-abundance happy. Not this mediocre existence I’ve settled into.
I want to fall in love. All-consuming, passionate, true soulmate type of love.
I want to see the world and travel to all my favorite places more than once.
Not visit the inside of a hospital and let doctors pump me full of poison that could kill me faster than any tumor ever could.
I’m not ready.
It’s so unfair.
It’s frustrating.
I’m angry.
I’m terrified.
I’m alone.
I can’t have cancer. I refuse.
Checking the time on my phone for the thousandth time this morning, I open the door for the player entrance of the clubhouse. It’s still too early for any of the guys to be here, but Coach is always here in the mornings and I’m hoping he’s available to talk before anyone else arrives.
Bree’s appointment is in a couple hours. I hated seeing her so detached this morning. Even last week in her office where she gave me the most epic blowjob of my life, I could tell she had her guard up. She enjoyed herself—I made sure of that—but afterward, her walls went back up. She insists on not telling the girls, convinced she’s a burden and that not talking about it will make it go away. I know logically she knows that’s not true, but my girl has built a fortress to keep from any appearance of weakness. But she’s not fucking weak. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.
Rounding the corner, I head straight for Coach’s office. My hands shake and my arms tingle from the anxiety humming in my veins. Telling Coach about Bree’s appointment could ruin everything. Not only would it disclose something extremely private, but it could also mean the end of us for good. She’s made it abundantly clear she doesn’t want anyone in her orbit outside of Miller and me to know about. But I have to. There’s no way she can go through this procedure on her own.
She was alone before.
She’s always been alone. Felt alone.
Before me.
Not anymore. She’ll never feel alone again if I can help it.
I know Miller offered to go with her— he wanted to be there even if it was just in the waiting room—but she refused. More than anything, she worried stepping foot inside a cancer center again would trigger him. Losing his sister to the same disease his chosen sister could be fighting if things don’t go well today would be hard on him.
Coach’s door is open at the end of the hall. I slow my steps to calm my nerves. He’s a great coach but an even better man. If he knew what was going on with Bree already, he would make sure she knew how loved she is.
He looks up when I step up to the open doorway, a puzzled look crossing his face.
“Bennett, you’re here early.”
“Hey, Coach, sorry to interrupt. I was hoping you had a few minutes to talk.”
