The word hung like a knife.
The doctor sighed. “Her current treatment isn’t responding the way we’d hoped. It’s not a failure, but the effectiveness has plateaued. We’d like to change course. Try a more aggressive therapy.”
“What does that mean?” Holly asked, voice thin.
“Different chemo. Higher intensity. Possibly targeted radiation.”
“Cost?” she asked, already dreading the answer.
The doctor gave her a look that saidshe knew. “It won’t be cheap.”
Of course it wouldn’t. Holly nodded, numb. “Okay. Do it.”
She couldn’t look at Nate. Her mom was alive, and she was grateful, but every step forward came with a higher price. And she was rapidly running out of ways to pay it.
Entertainment Weekly:
From the Ballroom to the ER? TTF’s Hottest Couple Spotted Together at LA General
The dancing duo was seen entering the emergency wing late last night, with sources confirming Holly’s mother has been admitted. Nate reportedly stayed by her side the entire time. Is it just choreography chemistry? Or is thefake-datingflame starting to burn a little too real…READ MORE →
@HammerDownHoney on X:
did i just see nate eriksson at the hospital with holly?? IN SWEATS? no cameras? no press? just holding her hand and looking like he’d murder god for her??? bro… if this is PR it’s oscar-winning.
#takethefloor #hollyandnate #realorreel
@ballroombaddie on Instagram:
Spotted:Nate Eriksson with his hand on Holly’s back and the softest look we’ve ever seen on a 6'4" enforcer who once got suspended for excessive violence.No camera crew. No stylists. No lighting team. Just a hoodie, hospital coffee, and what looks suspiciously like real fucking feelings. I’m unwell.
#hollyandnate #thisisnotadrill #softlaunchking #takethetloor #sendhelpimcrying
32
EMOTIONAL SUPPORT HIMBO
Nate
“There’s wanting someone, and then there’s whatever the hell this is.”
She didn’t look at him when they walked into her apartment. She moved on autopilot, dropping her keys into the bowl by the door with a soft clink, toeing off her shoes, crossing the room with the slow, steady gait of someone wading through the wreckage of the night. The air was full of the devastating quiet that settled after an impact; a fall that hadn’t killed her, but hadn’t left her whole, either.
Nate stood there, peeling off his jacket, trying to read her. He’d held her hand in a hospital waiting room while her world tilted on its axis, and now they were here in her space. He wanted so much. To hold her. Soothe her. Do anything he fucking could, just to make that haunted weight leave her gaze.But what?
“I’m gonna grab a shower,” she said eventually, voice scratchy with exhaustion. “There’s water or whiskey in the kitchen. Dealer’s choice.”
He nodded and didn’t move again until she vanished down the hall, swallowed by the dim of her apartment like she belongedto shadows and solitude. Only then did he let himself exhale. He lowered himself onto the edge of the couch, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped like he was praying he could keep it together.
The last three hours kept replaying behind his eyes in a tormenting montage. Rooftop heat, her mouth, and the way she’d moved against him like she was trying to forget her own name. The hospital’s cold fluorescent glare and the tight, suffocating fear in the ER waiting room. And her mother, frail and heavily drugged, fluttering her eyes open to look up at Holly when they’d finally allowed a visit.
He couldn’t shake the look on Holly’s face when she’d seen her phone, when dread had wiped every trace of hunger from her body like a cruel hand dragging a cloth across a canvas. She’d looked as though the floor had simply opened beneath her and she’d had nothing left to hold on to except him. She hadn’t argued when he’d said,let’s go,as if somewhere deep inside her she’d decided that he was safe enough to follow.
Safe enough tostay.
He didn’t touch the whiskey. Didn’t turn on the TV. Nate sat there in the hush of her living room, listening to the steady rush of water behind the bathroom door, letting the distant thrum of it soothe the parts of him still burning. His body, his chest, the ache she’d left behind on that rooftop. He wasn’t expectingherwhen she came back.
Holly materialized, barefoot and with her damp hair curling at the ends. She’d pulled on an oversized T-shirt, which was clinging to the still-wet lines of her body like it had been painted on. No fire-forged smirk to keep him at bay. She crossed the room with steps that smacked ofcertaintyand satbeside him. Angling toward him, she met his gaze as though he was something dangerous and sacred all at once, and she was still trying to decide which one.
