I wish I were at the stadium right now. Anywhere but here to be honest. Knowing he and Chase will be together getting ready for the game like it’s any other day eases some of the anxiety inside. It’s just another day. It’s just a test. This doesn’t have to be a monumental life altering procedure if I don’t make it one.
“Turn off the car G-money.” Miller breaks me out of my inner monologue.
“I’m going. I’m good. It’ll be good.” It’s only life altering if the results are bad and we don’t know what the results are yet.
“Text me after.” I can hear the concern in his voice even if he tries to hide it.
“Will do.” I hang up, turn the key in the ignition to shut off the car, grab my bag from the passenger seat and get out of thecar. Halfway to the entrance, I notice a man standing on the sidewalk staring directly at me.
My steps falter as I take him in. He’s wearing a baseball hat, pulled low over his face to conceal his identity, but I’d know his body anywhere. His corded forearms are crossed over his chest. He’s wearing jeans that I just know are hugging his ass perfectly and a nondescript T-shirt. The only indication he may be associated with the team is the Troubadours logo on the front of his cap.
“What are you doing here?” Tears well in my eyes when I step up to him. He immediately wraps me in his arms. The tension falls from my shoulders as I nuzzle into his chest. He’s warm and strong and I feel like maybe I don’t have to be alone now that he’s here.
“I couldn’t let you do this alone, Princess.” He pulls back to look me in the eyes, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear as he says, “Not saying you can’t. I know you can; you’re the strongest person I know. You’re also stubborn, so I knew you would argue with me if I asked to come.” He smiles at me.
“There’s a game tonight. You should be at the stadium with everyone else. You just got out of trouble and you’re going to get into more trouble showing up late.” I stare at his chest while I talk, avoiding eye contact because as much as what I say is true, I also really wanted him to be here with me.
“Already taken care of.” He lifts my chin with his finger, forcing me to look at him. I want to ask what he means by that, but he doesn’t let me.
I’m surrounded by him. His scent. His strength. His comfort. It’s in his comfort I find my voice.
“I’m scared,” I mumble into Chase’s neck.
“I know, baby. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He peppers soft kisses on my forehead, my temple, my head. I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of his touch.
“I love you.”
“I know that too.” He kisses me quickly before tucking meunder his arm and directing us through the main doors and into the office down the hall. “We’re a few minutes behind so let’s get you checked in.”
When we reach the check-in desk, he takes control, writing my name on the list and communicating with the receptionist who tells us to take a seat until someone calls.
Chase guides me to one of the loveseats along the wall. Just like the last time I was here, a home improvement show plays on the television.
He holds me close, one arm around my shoulder and the other crossed over his lap holding my thigh.
“I don’t think they’re going to let you go back with me.”
“We’ll see.” Any other time and I’d argue with his “the rules don’t apply to me attitude” but this time I will them to be true. Now that he’s here I don’t want to do any of this alone. I don’t want him to stay in the waiting room while I head back to the unknown. I don’t want to have to explain to him how the procedure works. I don’t want to relay what the doctor tells me. I want him there. For all of it. Every single second.
A receptionist calls my name to confirm my insurance information and go over my account. Chase sticks by my side the entire time. When she recognizes him as The Chaser, he turns on the charm and before I know it, we’re ushered to the smaller waiting area in the back where I’m instructed to change into a gown.
“I’ll be right here. Go get naked,” he winks at me, patting me on the butt before sitting in a chair lining the wall in front of yet another television playing a DIY show. With shaking hands, I unbutton my jeans. The fabric scrapes across my legs as I peel them off. The cool air hits my skin, causing a shiver through my body. I fold the jeans neatly and place them in the brown metal locker.
Once they’re taken care of, I move to my shirt, peeling it off one arm at a time. Folding it as well, I stack it on top of my jeans then unclasp my bra and shove it in the locker as well.
The pink cotton is soft when I pull it on and tie it in the front. Sitting down on the small bench, I pull on the ugly gray socks with the sticky feet on the bottom then grab the key ring with the stretchy plastic and go out to the waiting area with chase. He whistles when he sees me.
“I look ridiculous.”
“No, you don’t. You look cute.” He kisses my temple and holds my hand while we wait. He doesn’t try to make small talk. He just silently supports me the way I need.
A short time later, the same woman who performed my mammogram last week calls me into the room for another scan. She says something about needing to mark it for the doctor but I’m zoning out. The whole experience is overwhelming. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this.
I wait patiently as she gets the machine set up and then follow her instructions for the scans. They’re over quickly but no less humiliating than they were the last time.
“Okay, dear, you can have a seat, and they’ll call you back when they’re ready for you.”
“Are you okay?” Chase asks when I sit back down beside him.
