9
LINC
Next month is the "show." I can't wait to surprise everyone. I was surprised when Kadi asked me to be part of her dance show instead of Jace or Xander. I'm no dancer. I'm a big lug who beats the hell out of guys for a living.
Nicole and Kadi taught me I'm more than that. I'm a fucking dancer. Hell yeah, this muscled and tatted up dude has some moves. Who knew?
The doctor comes in and I want to crawl out of my skin. Ethan sits up in his chair then rubs his hands over his jean-clad thighs. He's as nervous as I am. It's my annual checkup. The bloodwork. The deadly killer I've been in remission from. That fucking C word. Every year I get tied up in knots when they test to see if I'm still doing okay.
Ethan's been worried because I've been tired a lot lately. It's just the training. That's what I keep telling him and trying to convince myself of.
I don't want to go through this again. I got lucky when I was twelve and fought with all I had and the help of my friends and Dr. Mac to find the light at the end of the tunnel, but how often can one get lucky against cancer?
The doctor puts down my chart.
"Mr. Ramirez. How are you feeling today?" he asks.
"Nervous as hell, doc," I admit.
He nods. "Well, I can tell you…"
