Page 162 of The Backup Plan

When the machine finally powers down, relief rushes through me so fast it makes me dizzy.

Footsteps. Soft. Familiar.

I don’t open my eyes, because I know it’s her. Her perfume . . . her presence. It’s simply Emery. My sanctuary.

Clark clears his throat as he fiddles with the machine, but that’s the only other sound in the room.

“You can sit up now,” he says as he exits the room.

I open my eyes. It’s now I take in Emery’s profile, the tablet she’s staring at that’s gripped in her hands, and the tears she’s blinking away.

“Dr. Porter,” I say quietly.

Nothing.

She continues trying to snap her professionalism into place like armor as she stares at a tablet that’s screen isn’t even on.

“Dr. Porter,” I say again, louder this time.

Still no response. My chest tightens—not from pain, but from the sight of her holding herself together with determined will.

“Emery.”

She freezes for a second, but then she turns.

Fuck.

Her hands are shaking. Her face is pale. Her eyes are glossy and red-rimmed like she’s been fighting to hold in her devastation. Like she’s been bracing for impact, and the crash finally came.

“This isn’t on you,” I say before she can speak.

Her breath hitches.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, the words tumbling out like they’ve been clawing at her chest. “Lucas, I—I’m so—”

“This isn’t on you,” I repeat, firmer now. “I made the call.”

Her lips tremble and she presses them together to keep herself from falling apart.

“You warned me,” I continue. “You told me the risks. You didn’t lie. You didn’t force me. You let me choose.”

A tear slips free and tracks down her cheek.

“I will always be grateful that you let me choose,” I repeat.

“I thought—” Her voice cracks. She shakes her head. “I thought I could—”

“You gave me one last shot,” I say softly. “And I needed that. I needed to know.”

The truth settles heavily in my chest.

I don’t need the radiologist to read the scans.

I don’t need the clinical diagnosis or to hear the words that will destroy my career.

I’m already hollowed. I already know.

This isn’t a setback.