Never Stop (The Halo Series Book 3)

by Kimberly Knight

  My mother walked over and brushed hair away from my face. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired.”

  “Have you talked to the doctor yet?”

  I nodded. “He left not too long ago.”

  “So you know?” She smiled tightly.

  “That I need another surgery?”

  She nodded.

  “Yeah, I know. Should be soon too.”

  “We’re going to stay as long as you’re in the hospital.” She looked to Stan and he nodded agreeing with her.

  I was surprised she would, but then again, maybe she was turning a new leaf. “Thanks, Mom.”

  The next few hours, people came in and out of my room. Bailee, Nicole, Avery, Jimmy, Jane and, of course, Cheyenne. They couldn’t all be in my room at one time so they rotated. I didn’t pay them much attention as I frequently took naps, but we told them all my news about my arm. Not a single one held in their emotions, but I shrugged it off each and every time. It was easier for me. If I told them how scared I was, they wouldn’t drop the situation and then it would get me thinking again.

  I didn’t want to think about it any longer.

  Before I knew it, four nurses walked into my room too. Maybe they weren’t all nurses, but enough that make my small room even smaller.

  “You ready to go Brooke?”

  I looked to Easton before responded. I wasn’t ready, but I had no choice. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I smiled trying to hide my fear.

  My family and friends each took turns wishing me luck and letting me know they’d be here when I got out. Since the room was small, they squeezed in and stood waiting for me to be taken out. When it was my mother’s turn, she leaned in and gave me a hug. When she pulled away, I saw that she was starting to cry.

  “Don’t cry, you’re gonna make me cry,” I said.

  “I can’t help it. I’m sorry.” She turned and Stan pulled her to him.

  Easton stepped up and I was certain I would definitely cry. My throat was starting to close, my eyes started to sting and I swallowed over and over trying to keep my emotions in check. Easton was looking at me as though he wanted to trade places with me, take my pain away. He was my rock, my world, my heart and I would never stop loving this man.

  He leaned down, kissed my lips and whispered into my ear so no one else could hear, “When life knocks you down, it doesn’t matter how hard you fall. What matters is how many times you get back up swinging.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Easton

  I couldn’t believe how quickly Brooke agreed to have another surgery. She didn’t think, she just reacted. Brooke was going back under the knife and chances were she’d come out with a claw hand. She shrugged it off like she was going in for a teeth cleaning or some shit. I didn’t say anything, but I knew she was scared. I was scared. Hell, our whole group was scared.

  After they had wheeled Brooke out of the room, all the women started crying. It was like a chain reaction, and I was doing everything in my power not to.

  “She’ll be okay,” my mother said and hugged me.

  I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  Life was fucking unfair.

  I cried for a few minutes, and then excused myself to take a shower. I knew I wasn’t supposed to use Brooke’s bathroom, but it wasn’t as if she was going to use it. The water beat down on my back as I leaned against my arm on the shower wall, allowing the tears to go down the drain with the water. Now I had to start counting the number of times I cried on two hands.

  When I got out of the shower, everyone but my parents and Cheyenne were gone. I sat next to Cheyenne on the hard as fuck couch. “Can I have forty dollars?” she whispered into my ear.

  “Forty dollars! For what?” I asked, not whispering.

  “Shh!” she scolded. “I want to get Brooke flowers now.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “I want people to think it was my idea.”

  “It was your idea, Peanut.”

  “Yeah, so can I have the money?”

  I smiled at my girl and dug into my back pocket for my wallet. “Get someone to take you.”

  Cheyenne snatched the two twenty dollar bills from my hand and rushed off toward my dad who was sitting in a chair and watching some cooking shit. He looked at me and I nodded slightly. Once they left, I turned to my mom.

  “Dr. Simon told us he considers Brooke’s tumor cancer.”

  My mom gasped and turned to me. “No.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t either. I explained Dr. Simon’s logic and she was silent for a few seconds.

  “He’ll get it all and she’ll be okay.”

  “How can you say that?”

  She grabbed my hands between hers. “Because she’s a fighter.”

  I took a deep breath. “What if the tumor keeps coming back?”

  “Then we’ll all be here fighting with her.”

  A lump started to form in my throat. “We want to have a baby.”

  My mother’s eyes became huge, and she leaped up and threw her arms around me. “Brooke will make a fantastic mother.”

  “She already is,” I admitted.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Brooke

  “Brooke … Brooke, can you wake up?”

  I faintly heard the words that were being spoken to me. I didn’t know who it was, where I was or why. I couldn’t even open my eyes.

  “Brooke, if you can hear me, move your hand.”

  I groaned as I started to come to, my eyes still unable to open.

  “She’s waking up,” the man said. “Brooke, it’s Dr. Simon. Can you move your right hand?”

  I did what he asked.

  “Yes!” he exclaimed. “She can move her hand.”

  I had no idea who he was talking to because I only made out his voice, but it made me smile. At least I thought I smiled. It was all too fuzzy and I felt as though I was dreaming.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Easton

  I don’t know how many times I glanced at the clock and then my phone to see if the time was still moving forward or if the damn thing was broken. People brought me food and water. They brought flowers and set them around the room. I felt as though everyone was trying to stay busy even though we were all confined to the hospital. None of us wanted to leave.

  Just in case.

  “Is everyone here?” I looked up to see Dr. Simon in the doorway.

  “Doc,” I said and stood to move to him in a rush.

  “I have some news, but I figured I’d tell everyone since you had a large group of people the other day.”

  “The others are just in the waiting room down the hall. I’ll go get them,” Avery said and left.

  While we waited for him to get Bailee, Gary and Brooke’s parents, I tried to read Dr. Simon’s expression. I wanted any sign of what he was going to tell us. Of course, I couldn’t get a read on him because he wasn’t smiling or frowning but looking around the room at the flowers as though to bid his time during the awkward silence.

  “We’re here,” Bailee said.

  Everyone gathered into the small room.

  “Brooke did well. I was able to cut the nerve and remove the entire tumor.”

  Sighs of relief could be heard around the room, but I was waiting for the final blow. “And her hand?” I asked.

  Dr. Simon finally smiled. “I woke her up before coming in here and she was able to move her fingers and make a fist.”

  My mother reached me and wrapped me in her arms while everyone else hugged each other. I felt my breath leave my lungs in a relieved rush—a fucking miracle relieved rush. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “I want to keep her here as long as possible. Once she goes home she’ll be in a lot of pain since she won’t be getting the morphine drip. And given what her body has gone through, she’s going to be in a world of hurt.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Brooke

  I spent ten days in the
hospital, but those days rushed by, probably due to the fact that I slept for most of them. Tonia and Lucy both came to visit me this time. It was nice to know they cared. Easton tried to get me to eat the meals the hospital provided three times a day, but I didn’t have an appetite. Not even for grapes. Dr. Simon assessed my hand a few times. Once was me trying to hold a pen to write. I was able to. Another time was my trying to snap my fingers. I couldn’t. It felt weird that I couldn’t do the simple task of rubbing my thumb and middle finger together that caused a snapping noise. Dr. Simon gave me a stress ball to use frequently to build my strength back up.

  I also wasn’t entirely sure if the “good drugs” were out of my system but I did know that I hurt. I hurt so fucking bad. Every turn Easton took on the drive home, every bump he went over, every stop he came to, caused pain to radiate from my shoulder blade and down my arm. Shooting stabbing pain that I’d never felt in my entire life.

  “You got my pain pills?” I asked as Easton helped me into the house.

  “Yeah, baby. Let’s get you in bed, and I’ll get you one.”

  “I want to go to the couch.” I’d been laying in a bed for ten days and the thought of doing it some more made me sick to my stomach. Easton helped me down onto the couch and put a blanket on me. I closed my eyes, willing the pain to go away. I knew it wouldn’t work, this was what sleep was for.

  When you slept, you couldn’t feel pain.

  “Here,” Easton said. I looked up to see he had his hand out and the other with a glass of water. I didn’t know what I was taking, didn’t care. I only wanted the pain to go away. “Sit up a little and take this.”

  I did as he asked and then laid back down. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

  “Good idea. I’m going to go call my folks and let them know we’re home. They’ll keep Cheyenne for the night so you can rest.”

  I nodded, not saying anything because sleep was all I was after.

  “Easton!” I shouted from the couch.

  “I’m right here, baby.”

  I opened my eyes to see he was sitting on the sectional couch next to me. “I need more.”

  “More what?”

  “Pain meds.”

  He reached down and grabbed the bottle from the table. “It says to take one every four hours, and it’s only been three.”

  “I don’t care. I need more.”

  I truly didn’t care. The pain was intense and it would go from a dull throbbing pain to a shooting pain that made me want to jump out of my skin.

  “Dr. Simon said you’d be in pain, and that you just need to push through it.”

  My eyes cut to him. “Push through it? You have no idea how much I hurt right now.” It was as though the medication wasn’t working at all.

  “It says—”

  “I don’t care what it says. I need another one!”

  He was silent for a few moments as he read the bottle. “Well, it was only five milligrams.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “The dosage is only five milligrams? I was taking ten of the Norco before.”

  “I’m sure this is stronger. It’s oxycodone.”

  “Just please give me another one. I think I need to double it.”

  “Fine,” he agreed. “Let’s try ten and see how that works. If it doesn’t, I’ll call Dr. Simon.”

  I held out my hand for the pills.

  Ten milligrams worked, but only for my shoulder. My arm still felt like there were a hundred knives stabbing me over and over and over. I’d never in my entire life felt pain like it. It didn’t feel like muscle or anything else that could get sore. This was different and hard to describe, like a raw, shooting pain wanting to dig through my skin.

  I spent most of my time on the couch watching Court TV or Family Feud. I’d always liked Family Feud, but I’d become obsessed. Steve Harvey was a funny man to watch. When I used to watch the show he would make me laugh, but this time around, I didn’t laugh. I would watch the show, know it was funny and that I should be laughing, except I wouldn’t laugh. It was as though I was dead inside not feeling emotions. I felt pain, though. So much pain. The skin on my arm felt as if it were raw. I couldn’t wear long-sleeved shirts, sweatshirts or anything that would rub against my arm.

  I spoke with Dr. Simon a few weeks after my surgery. I told him about my arm and he wanted to send me to physical therapy and start me on the nerve medication again. At the mention of the medication, my heart broke. Going back on the medication would mean I couldn’t have a baby for God knew how long. I didn’t care what category the medication was in, I wouldn’t jeopardize my unborn child. And the oxy too.

  “Hey, babe,” Easton said, coming in through the door that leads to the garage. “How you feeling?”

  My gaze turned from Judge Judy to watch him as he walked over. “You know, hurts to move.” I wasn’t even able to bathe myself. I wasn’t able to lift my shirt above my head, bend down to take my pants off or wash my body. Every day I felt helpless.

  “Are you hungry?”

  I shook my head.

  “Did you eat lunch?”

  I shook my head again.

  “Babe,” he scolded. “You need to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m gonna make you a grilled cheese for lunch, and you’re going to eat it.”

  I glared at him. “I said I’m not hungry.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest as he stood next to the coffee table. “I don’t care. You can’t keep taking these meds and not eat. It’s not good for you.”

  I snorted. “What? Are you my doctor?”

  He cracked a smile. “Well, I do bathe you.”

  “Nurses bathe patients. Not doctors,” I corrected.

  He turned to walk to the kitchen, laughter in his voice. “What do I know? I’ve never gotten a sponge bath.”

  I wanted to laugh. I knew I should, but I couldn’t. I was broken.

  A few minutes later he returned with a plate that had a toasted grilled cheese sandwich on it. How could you resist a gooey, buttery cheese sandwich? Apparently, I could. It didn’t look appetizing at all.

  “Eat at least half.”

  “I don’t wanna.” I was whining, but I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to eat.

  “Eat it, or you’re not getting your next pain meds.”

  My eyes looked up to his. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Test me.” Easton jabbed the plate in front of my face.

  I snatched it, placed it on my stomach and grabbed half the sandwich. I took a bite and it tasted like nothing. I wanted to like it. I really did, but it tasted blah. It had no flavor and made me want to throw up.

  Easton sat on the couch next to me, his eyes on Judge Judy. “I can’t believe you like this crap.”

  “It’s not crap,” I said around a bite full.

  “She’s such a bitch.”

  “First of all, she’s like my idol. Second of all, she’s only a bitch to those who deserve it.”

  “Whatever you say,” he mumbled. I swear he whispered “idol” under his breath.

  Yeah, whatever.

  After I had forced down almost half of the sandwich, I handed the plate back to him. “I’m done.”

  He shook his head. “All right. I’ll make you eat more for dinner.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Can you hand me the pill bottle?” I pointed to it on the coffee table.

  He lifted it and then rattled it before opening it. “You’re running out.”

  “Yeah, I need to call in a refill.”

  He read the bottle. “Says you don’t have any.”

  My eyebrows furrowed. “What? How can I not have refills when I just had surgery?”

  “I don’t know. Email Dr. Simon and get a refill.”

  “I can’t,” I responded. “It hurts my fingertips to touch the screen.”

  He smiled. “I’ll do it, baby.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What if we get you some pot?”

  My eyes
widened. “Weed? Why do I need to smoke marijuana?”

  “You know they prescribe it for cancer patients.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not my thing.”

  “I bet it will take the pain away.”

  “I can’t smoke because of my lung they chopped off,” I stated.

  “Well, get a vaporizer.”

  I lifted my head. “A what?”

  He laughed. “It uses water to cool the smoke, and you inhale it from a tube.”

  “I’ll pass.” I frowned.

  “I think you should try it. It’s natural and used for pain. It might help. Plus, it will give you the munchies, so I won’t be frustrated with you for not eating.”

  “God!” I groaned. “You’re so pushy.”

  “Maybe, but I love you, and I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

  “I don’t want to hurt either.” A tear slipped from the corner of my eye.

  “Smoking pot won’t kill you. If so, I would have died in high school.”

  “You used to smoke pot? Geez! I’m like the only one who’s never smoked.”

  He chuckled. “Probably.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Easton

  It was hard for me to find joy in life. How could I enjoy anything while my wife was suffering?

  I worked for a few hours a day while Cheyenne was at a summer program at the community park. She went all day while a counselor played games with them and kept them out of trouble. It was good for Chey to be out of the house and play. It also allowed Brooke to get as much rest as she needed. My mom stopped in a few times to bring us food and check on her, but she didn’t stay long. Brooke was sleeping a lot, and still not eating.

  Everyone knew marijuana was given to patients with cancer and that people used it to get relief from pain, but it had been years since I’d bought an eighth of weed, and not in New York. I had to figure out a plan.

  “How’s B.B. doing?” Avery asked. I didn’t correct him about her initials. B.B. was better than B.C. when it rolled off the tongue.