“What can I do to make things better?” The words leave me automatically.
He turns his head toward me, and when we lock eyes, my heartbeat speeds up.
“You’re already doing plenty, Nova. Just be there for Rachel and Lainey.”
My voice is a soft whisper as I dare to ask, “And you?”
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “Don’t worry about me.”
I’ll always worry about you.
He gestures with a nod of his head toward the veranda. “Let’s head back.”
Not wanting Rachel to notice that I cried, I ask, “How does my face look? Can you tell I’ve been crying?”
Easton stares at me for a moment too long before he replies, “A little red here and there. Hang back for a few minutes.”
I nod while I watch him walk away and disappear around the corner.
As much as I needed that cry, I really have to do better.
Chapter 8
Easton
It’s almost eleven at night when I shut the laptop with a heavy heart after speaking with Professor Anthony Fox, who was able to give us fifteen minutes of his time.
Rachel slumps back in her chair where we’re sitting at the dining room table, and for a moment, I’m unable to think straight.
Sylvia reaches across the space between us and gives my shoulder a squeeze.
Fuck, this is really happening.
Nova gets up from her seat and walks to Rachel, then crouches beside her chair. She places her hand on Rachel’s arm but doesn’t say anything.
There’s nothing she can say.
After Professor Fox looked at everything we sent and spoke with Rachel’s oncologist, he agreed with the prognosis. The tumor is too big and impossible to remove surgically. He suggests we use the time Rachel has left by enjoying it as a family instead of spending it in hospitals and going for treatments that will make little difference to the outcome, if any.
The four of us sit in silence for a few minutes before Sylvia asks, “Is there anything I can do?”
I begin to shake my head but then say, “Cancel the filming. Cancel everything.”
Even though I’m asking for the impossible, she nods. “Don’t worry about work. I’ll see which commitments I can postpone.”
Rachel sucks in a sharp breath, and it has my gaze snapping to her. Staring at the table, her eyebrows draw together. “Oh God. I’m dying.”
Christ.
I shoot up from my chair, and grabbing hold of my sister’s shoulders, I practically yank her to her feet before engulfing her in my arms.
A second later, the realization slams the air from my lungs.
Rachel is dying, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it from happening.
I grip her tighter and bury my face in her hair as a hard tremble shudders through my body.
After everything I’ve done to protect Rachel, I’m going to lose her anyway.
