Alex (Striking Back #4)

by S. M. Shade

  Two hours later, I’m sitting in another doctor’s office on the other side of the hospital. The room is painted a calming blue, but it does nothing to quell my nerves. My hands fumble in my lap when the doctor enters.

  He’s an older man with thinning silver hair and a kind smile. “Mr. Turner, sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Dr. Brennon. I specialize in urology.”

  “Do I have cancer?” I demand, getting right to the point. Please just tell me my balls aren’t going to rot off.

  Taking a seat on a stool beside me, he replies, “You have what’s known as a seminoma tumor in your right testicle. It’s a very common and very treatable form of testicular cancer.”

  Chapter Three

  Alex

  Mason is ringing my phone before I’m out of bed Monday morning. Okay, maybe it’s afternoon. “What the hell do you want?” I groan.

  “Making sure you’re coming in to work with Liam today. He needs a new Bo Staff Form and you know that’s not my area. He’ll be here at three.”

  “I’ll be there.” Liam is fourteen and a madman with a Bo Staff. He’s homeschooled, so he can come in early for private lessons. Honestly, he’s better than me and my brothers with that weapon. Once he learns to put together his own forms, he won’t need me.

  “Hear anything from Kyle?” I ask, and Mason laughs.

  “No. He hasn’t even had his first class yet. Quit worrying and get your ass out of bed.”

  “Go fuck yourself,” I reply, cutting off the call before he can respond. It makes me smile. He hates it when I do that.

  My hand automatically travels to Cooper’s pillow and sadness washes through me. “I still miss you, Coop. Always. But I’m getting out of bed. I’m doing what you would want.”

  Nothing sounds good for breakfast and I end up settling for a couple of Kyle’s toaster pastries. I’m just preparing to leave when the landline rings. I swear sometimes I forget we still have it. “Hello?”

  An automated message kicks on. “This is a courtesy reminder call for Ian Turner to confirm your appointment tomorrow at ten a.m. Please call the office if you need to reschedule. Thank you.” The call disconnects. I guess Ian has a doctor’s appointment.

  I’m just about to text him and let him know when I notice the caller ID. The call came from Marion Oncology. A sick dread fills my stomach. Cancer? Ian has cancer? Why the hell hasn’t he told me? Has he told anyone? Oh fuck. I can’t do this again. Can’t lose another person I love.

  All teasing aside, I do love Ian. I have for a while. I know he’s straight, and I’d like to be able to say I love him like a brother or best friend, but it’s more than that, stronger than that. Sitting down, I take a couple of deep breaths and get a grip. This isn’t about me. Ian’s sick.

  His phone goes straight to voicemail. I try him again every chance I get throughout the day, but with no luck. The day drags past, and I brush off Mason’s offer to work on the shelter. I just want to get home and find out what the hell is going on with Ian.

  He stumbles through the door after midnight, drunk off his ass. The coffee table shifts as his knee slams into it in the dim room. “Fuck! Fuckin table coming out of nowhere,” he grumbles. It’d be funny if I wasn’t aware of why he drank so much. “The hell are you doing up?” he slurs when he sees me sitting on the couch.

  “Waiting for you.”

  “Sorry, still love pussy.” He heads down the hall, and I follow him.

  His bed shudders, he drops onto it so hard. “I’m not in the mood for any bullshit tonight, Alex. I’m going to bed.” His fingers fumble to undo his shoelaces.

  “Move your hands,” I order, and pull off his shoes. He falls back and stares at the ceiling. “Your doctor called. You have an appointment tomorrow at ten.”

  His brow dips. “They had no right to tell you that. What else did they say?”

  “It was a recording. They didn’t say anything. Ian…what’s going on?”

  “Nothing, it’s just a checkup.”

  “Bullshit.” I sit down on the bed beside him. “It was an oncologist.”

  He sits up quickly and grabs his head, quickly regretting it. “Mind your own fucking business.”

  I know he’s drunk and upset, but he’s pissing me off. “Fine, I’ll just call Everly and see what she thinks.”

  His hand darts out and grabs my arm hard enough to leave a bruise. “Don’t you dare tell Ev a thing. She’ll worry.”

  “I’m worried. Do you have cancer?”

  “You can’t tell anyone,” he snaps.

  “Fine, but tell me.”

  “Nut cancer. They’re going to chop it off, throw it in a furnace somewhere. That what you wanted to know?” He climbs up the bed and his head hits the pillow. “Go away, Alex.”

  The crack in his voice betrays how upset he really is. I’ve never seen Ian cry, and he’s not now, not really, just fighting it. I’m sure the alcohol doesn’t help. I lie beside him and lay a hand on his arm. His chest shudders through a long sigh and he passes out. After listening to him snore for a few minutes, I retire to my bed to toss and turn.

  I don’t know how he manages to drink like that without being hungover, but he never seems to struggle with it. When he steps out of the shower the next morning and sees I’m waiting, he asks, “What are you doing up and dressed so early?”

  “Going to your doctor’s appointment with you.”

  “The hell you are. This is my problem. I don’t need you holding my hand.” He yanks a sweater over his head.

  “Me or Ev, that’s the deal. You aren’t dealing with cancer on your own.”

  Glaring at me, he snaps, “You’re not going into the exam room. I don’t need you watching a guy examine my balls.”

  “I’ll wait in the waiting room if you promise to tell me what the doctor says. What the treatment plan is.”

  Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “If you swear to keep it between us. I mean it, Alex. I don’t want anyone to know.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. I just want to help, the way you helped me through the past few months. Let me repay the favor.”

  He gives a reluctant nod and tosses me his keys. “You drive, then.”

  * * * *

  Judging by the expression on Ian’s face, he isn’t pleased with the doctor’s plan. He’s quiet all the way home, and I resist the urge to question him until he has time to process the news. He goes straight to his room and changes into his work clothes. “You’re going to work?”

  “I need to tie up a few loose ends and file for a leave of absence.”

  “When is your surgery? Are they doing chemo or radiation? Is…”

  He steps back and shakes his head. “Tonight, okay. I’ll tell you everything tonight. Just keep your mouth shut in the meantime.”

  “All right. Call me if you need anything. Like it or not, Ian, I’m here and I’m going to be beside you until you’re well. I don’t recall you giving me much choice about moving in after Cooper’s death.”

  “No good deed goes unpunished,” he grumbles, and heads out the door.

  I spend a few hours online learning all I can about testicular cancer. It’s hard to know what to expect without knowing what stage he has, but none of it looks fun. Surgery, chemotherapy, radiation. Weeks or months or even years of it, depending on whether the cancer has spread. I’m relieved to see it’s one of the most treatable cancers with a very high survival rate.

  It’s also one of the most damaging to men psychologically. Losing a testicle, a part of what makes one male, can be devastating, especially to someone like Ian, who defines himself through sex and success with women. I see a hard few months ahead at the least. I don’t know how he thinks he’s going to keep Everly from finding out.

  As if she heard her name in my thoughts, Ev calls. “You weren’t at the gym today, so I just wanted to check in,” she says, nonchalant. Still checking up on me. What the hell am I supposed to tell her? I’m obviously going to be spending more time with Ian, doctor’
s visits and chemo and everything, so how do I keep her and my brothers from worrying and breathing down our necks?

  “Sorry, I meant to call. Ian and I are doing a remodel on Arthur’s kitchen and bathroom. His plumbing is a mess. Ian’s kind of burnt out at work, so he’s taking some vacation time to work on the house. Tell Mason I’ll be busy here for a while, would you?”

  “Okay.” There’s doubt in her voice as she asks, “Ian took vacation time?”

  “Yep. Guess he had a bunch saved up.” God, I hate lying to Ev. It’s going to suck being caught in the middle, but right now, Ian has to be my priority. I don’t know how I’d have made it through the last few months without him.

  “He does. He never takes time off. Leave it to him to use it to work somewhere else. Hey! Maybe you could try to get him to use some of the time for an actual vacation. It’d be good for him.”

  “I’ll give it a shot. And you and my brothers can stop worrying, Ev. I’m doing fine. Staying busy.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. By the way, Mason called the school to check on Kyle. He really likes it there.” Kyle. Shit, how did I forget? In two weeks, he’ll know. He’ll have to if he’s here when Ian’s sick. Oh well, there’s no help for it.

  “Good. Ian’s like an old worried mother.”

  Ev laughs. “He’s sweet. I have to go. Call me anytime, Alex. Love ya.”

  “Love ya back.” I flop onto my bed feeling like the slime at the bottom of a lake. Once Ian is past the shock of all this, I need to try to convince him not to keep his illness a secret.

  He comes home early in the evening with a large bucket of chicken and sides from a fast food restaurant. Silently, we fill our plates and watch The Walking Dead. I’ve only recently managed to turn him onto the show. I guess he’ll have plenty of time to binge watch in the near future. When we’re finished eating and the show is over, I glance at him, eyebrows raised.

  He sighs and sits beside me on the couch. “Surgery is day after tomorrow. They’ll remove one ball and replace it with a fake one. It’s outpatient, so I’ll be home the same day.”

  “Will you have to do chemo or radiation?”

  “That will depend on the lab results. I’ll know about five to ten days after the surgery. The oncologist wants me to do at least one cycle no matter the results, but if it has spread, it could be more. If I’m lucky, one round is one treatment, and I’ll be sick for a few weeks.”

  “I’m so fucking sorry this is happening to you,” I tell him, and he nods.

  “I’ll have to be tested every few months for years, but if everything goes right, and it hasn’t spread, this will all be over in six weeks or so. I took two months off of work.”

  “Ev called while you were at the doctor.” I hold up my palm as he opens his mouth to protest. “I didn’t tell her. I lied my ass off. Told her we were doing major renovations on Arthur’s side and you took some vacation time to work on it.”

  Dark anxious eyes meet mine. “Did she buy it?”

  “Seemed to. Ian, would it really be so terrible for her to find out? Wouldn’t you want to know if she was sick?”

  He scrubs his palms over his face. “Of course I would, but this is different. She’s pregnant and her blood pressure is already an issue. I won’t worry her with this. Promise me.”

  With a sigh, I capitulate. “If that’s what you want. What time is your surgery?”

  “Eight o’clock in the morning and I can’t eat after midnight the night before. I should be released by one or two. They won’t let me take a cab home after anesthesia, so if you could pick me up…”

  I gape at him. “I suddenly feel like I’m depriving some village of its idiot. Do you actually think you’re going alone?”

  “It’s a minor outpatient procedure.”

  “That I’ll be there for. Forget it,” I snap when he starts to argue. “I’m going. Fucking deal with it.”

  “Fine,” he growls. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he turns to me. “Thank you.”

  I wrap my arms around him, and pull him into a hug. After a moment’s hesitation, his arms tighten around me. “You’re going to be okay.”

  I love being in his arms, even though the circumstances suck. It’s not the first time we’ve held one another. In the weeks after Cooper’s death, he would often comfort me, but I was too buried in grief to think about how good it felt. How good he smells, how strong his arms are. Shit. I’m supposed to be reassuring him, not fantasizing.

  I release him and we go back to watching T.V. like everything is normal.

  The next day drags by. Ian is sullen and withdrawn. I try to get him to run errands with me to get his mind off of things, but he refuses, curling up on the couch to watch T.V. instead. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Text if you think of anything else you need.”

  “Garden shears. We’ll just get it over with tonight.”

  “Can’t take the chance we’ll miss and lop off your tiny penis.” An empty water bottle bounces off the door as I shut it behind me just in time.

  I want to make sure we don’t have to leave the house for the next few days, so I hit the ATM for some cash and then the grocery store. I load up on the essentials and throw in the ingredients to make a pan of pizza baked spaghetti. It’s Ian’s favorite and I have a feeling it would be good for him to gain a few pounds before chemo takes it back.

  The gaming store beside the grocery bears a sign advertising a new release I overheard Ian and Kyle talking about. Or drooling over. With everything that’s happened, he’s forgotten, so I make a quick trip inside and add it to my pile of items. Maybe it’ll cheer him up after the surgery.

  I’m loaded down with bags and struggling to open the front door when it opens. A skinny blonde walks through with an embarrassed giggle. “Sorry!” She holds the door open for me, then quickly heads to her car after I thank her.

  Ian steps into the room, his hair wet from a recent shower. “You buy out the place?”

  “Not quite. You get that one’s name?”

  “Sam, I think, or maybe Sarah. Doesn’t matter.”

  “Should you be fucking? You know…”

  “Wanted to do it one more time as a complete man with all original factory parts.” His tone is joking, but his eyes aren’t.

  “You won’t be any different. From what I read, most people can’t even tell the difference between the prosthetic and the real thing. All you’ll have is a four inch scar on your groin.” I put away the groceries while I talk, slipping the video game into a drawer.

  “Yeah,” he scoffs. “I’m sure it’ll feel completely natural.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll fondle it real good. I’ve felt enough nuts to tell the difference.”

  His chuckle makes me smile. “Anything to get your hands on my junk.”

  It’s after one a.m. when Ian decides to call it a night. I’ve been struggling to keep my eyes open through the last hour of zombie gore, but I didn’t want to leave him alone. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s scared.

  My alarm pulls me out of a twisted dream about testicle eating zombies. It doesn’t feel like I’ve slept at all, and I imagine Ian didn’t exactly have a good night either. I’m greeted with a grunt when I grab a cup of coffee and microwave a breakfast burrito. Ian can’t eat or drink, of course, so for once I eat in the kitchen where I’m out of sight.

  We manage to beat the worst of the early morning traffic and arrive at the hospital a few minutes early. I’m grateful it isn’t the same hospital where Cooper died. I’m not sure I could’ve gone in. The receptionist smiles and bats her eyes at Ian, but he doesn’t notice. Seriously, who flirts with a guy getting ready to lose a testicle? With a pout, she hands him a stack of forms. “Fill these out. They’ll call you back shortly.”

  “For fuck’s sake, do they need to know my favorite color too?” he grumbles, working his way through the forms while we wait in the world’s most uncomfortable chairs.

  “Killian?” I ask, sur
prised when I see his name written down. “Ian is short for Killian? Like Captain Hook from…”

  He glares at me. “Shut up. I hate that show.”

  “How have I never heard that?”

  “Because I don’t like it.”

  “Come on now, Killian,” I tease.

  Despite his mood, the corner of his mouth twitches up. “You’re sworn to secrecy about that along with the cancer.”

  I gaze at him, squinting. “You do actually look a bit like him. Let me hear you say Arrgh.”

  “Don’t make me kick your ass in here.”

  We sit in silence for a few minutes, the scratching of his pen competing with the ticking of a clock hung on the wall behind us. Finally, his name is called and we’re lead back to a small pre-op room.

  The nurse takes his paperwork and asks a million questions. After she’s confident he isn’t allergic to anything and hasn’t eaten in the past twelve hours, she hands him a gown and gestures to a tiny attached bathroom. “Everything off,” she chirps, and I struggle not to laugh at the look of pure loathing eating into her back when she exits.

  “All the shit we come up with, and no one can design a gown that doesn’t let your ass hang out,” he complains, returning from the restroom. He doesn’t protest when I approach and tie the rear lace he missed. And I totally did not look down to see his tight perfect ass. I mean, what kind of friend would do that?

  Once he’s settled on the bed with a sheet pulled over his bare legs, the nurse returns. “I’m going to get your IV started and draw some blood, then the anesthesiologist will be in to talk to you.” She inserts his IV and hands me a large bag. “You can put his clothes and belongings in here and they’ll be waiting in the recovery room.”

  Ian has hardly spoken a word since she left, and I can see fear creeping into his face. Suddenly, he yanks back the sheet and exclaims, “I changed my mind. I’m not doing this.”

  I reach him before he can tear out the IV. “Stop.”

  “I can’t. I just can’t let them…”

  I grab his hand and sit beside him on the narrow bed. “I know you’re scared, but you aren’t going anywhere. You have to do this. There’s no other option.”