The dizziness chased me through the race, but I managed to fight it off long enough to claim first.
When I threw up after dinner, I could barely contain myself. I wanted to scream to the world that it was finally happening. Part of me wanted to tell Dad straight away that I couldn’t race in the big event, but the other part cautioned that it could still be nothing. There were a number of things that could have been the cause of my nausea.
The following morning, I woke early and crept into the bathroom of the hotel to use one of the tests I packed every time we went away.
The single line—the negative result—taunted me, telling me I’d been a fool to think anything else.
Instead of sharing my sorrow with Beau, I hid the test in the bottom of the hotel bin and got ready for the second day of racing.
After getting to the racetrack and preparing with the determination born from disappointment, I jumped into the car for qualifying and took off like a bat out of hell. I was in line for a weekend of domination, which would shoot me to the top of the championship rankings—not untouchable, not so early in the season, but with a strong enough lead.
Throughout the race, I drove like a woman possessed. I had to in order to outrun the negative test and the voices screaming in my head that I had failed. It should have been the easiest thing in the world to fall pregnant, the first time I had it hadn’t been planned, and it had happened so easily, but now I couldn’t fall for the life of me.
I was certain it was punishment for failing the first gift I’d been given. It was my fault we were struggling with conception. My fault Angel left. My fault . . .
By the time I pulled the car in at the end of the race—after claiming my second race win for the weekend—I was dehydrated, and shivers raced through my body. Everything ached. My head spun. I went to climb from the car but only made it as far as opening the door after getting the harness off before everything went black.
I WOKE with a sea of worried faces above me. I wanted to shove them all away. All except two. Dad and Beau stood closest to me, and they were the only ones I would allow to touch me to help me to my feet. I was glad to see that only seconds had passed since I’d pulled up in the car.
It wasn’t anything serious—just a little fainting spell. I was sure of it.
“Are you okay, Pheebs?” Dad asked.
“What’s the matter, darlin’?” Beau’s voice came at the same time.
I shook my head to tell them to stop worrying. “I think I let myself get a little too dehydrated,” I said.
They ushered me into the pits and gave me a sports drink and a bottle of water. While I sat sipping a little from each, I overheard them whispering about getting me to a doctor.
“I’m fine,” I assured them, standing on my own two feet to prove it. “I’ll go to the GP when I get back home, but there’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”
Even as I said the words, I had to hide the way I swayed as the dizziness took hold again. I also had to pretend my chest and back weren’t aching, but it was easy to put that down to my position in the car for the last two hundred Ks.
Beau didn’t look like he was willing to let it drop, and Dad looked sceptical too. I figured he was used to me acting like I was dying with every ache and pain I felt. For me to brush something off was always a bigger worry to him.
“I’m really okay,” I assured them again as I brushed by to head to the podium.
That night, I couldn’t keep my dinner down again. When Beau came into the bathroom to see if I was okay, he wrapped his hand around my waist. “So, should we be celebratin’?”
“Not just yet,” I said before admitting I’d done a test that morning that had been negative. “That doesn’t mean it’s a definite negative, although it’s unlikely I’d be getting any symptoms yet if it’s too early to tell on a home kit.”
“What is it then?”
“Bad shrimp?” I joked. “I mean it has to be something I ate or just a virus. Honestly, I’m okay though. I’ll go see the doctors when we get back home, and I’m sure they’ll just tell me to get some fluids and have some rest.”
“If you’re sure. I can get anythang ya need.”
“I know. Right now, I think I just need to go to bed.”
I’d barely put my head against the pillow before I was out like a light.
When I woke again, for my last morning in the hotel room, Beau was messing around and packing up all of our things. I didn’t want to move though. My feet ached like balloons filled beyond bursting. The throb echoed through my whole body. It was like an upside down hangover.
Without letting Beau see, I snuck a look at my feet under the blankets, and my fears were confirmed. Swollen. Not just a little either.
The pieces fell into place, and I had to swallow down the monster that clawed its way up my throat.
“What’re ya thinkin’?” Beau asked when he appeared at my bedside with some room service breakfast.
Ensuring my feet were covered, I pushed myself into a seated position. “Nothing. Just that I’m happy to be heading home. It’s been a long weekend.”
“Are ya feelin’ any better?”
I nodded. I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to worry him.
“I’m glad. We’ve got an hour before check out. Is there anythin’ ya wanted me to do to help ya?”
I smiled at him, willing away the rising tide of dread that was settling over me. “Sit and enjoy breakfast with me.”
He grinned and stole a piece of the toast. “Now that ain’t a hard thing to do.”
A WEEK LATER, I was in a medical clinic, trying to hold myself together through all the panic attacks that threatened me over and over. My hands shook as I pinned them into my lap while I waited to see Dr Reins. When I’d seen the swelling—and when it had barely gone away a day and a bit later—I’d skipped on making an appointment with the GP. Instead, I’d gone straight back to my nephrologist.
I hope I’m wrong.
I hadn’t told Beau I was going . . . I didn’t want to worry him in case it was unnecessary.
Getting the appointment with Dr Reins was easy as soon as I’d explained the things that were happening. He’d even organised a script for some tests he wanted to be done before I came so that things were able to be answered sooner rather than later.
Too soon, but also not soon enough, he called me into his office.
“I’m afraid I don’t have good news.” He was as straight to the point as always. “The results are showing that your creatinine levels are rising and your GFR is 26.”
I’d studied my condition enough to know the facts. I knew the figures. That was why the symptoms had worried me as soon as the swelling had started. The rest, I could write off as possibly being due to the pregnancy I craved so badly. Combined with the negative tests, so much swelling, and the ache in my chest and back, it was impossible to ignore the truth.
Even though I knew the information, and understood every word he said, it wasn’t enough to make reality sink in. I’d known it on some level, and yet even hearing him confirm it wasn’t enough to make me believe it.
I must have heard him wrong. Or maybe there was something else causing the issue.
“This puts you in this category.” He showed me the chart that detailed the different levels of kidney failure and what was expected at each stage.
I’d seen it before, but I studied it as though I’d never even considered needing to be listed on it before. The place he pointed was so far down near the bottom that my heart stopped for a moment.
“The good news is we don’t need to look at dialysis yet, although it is something we may need to consider in the medium to long term. For now, we’ll just need to monitor your diet, exercise, and levels more regularly. And I think it would be best if you put any plans regarding pregnancy on hold until we can stabilise things.”
I waited for him to tell me it was a joke or that he’d made a mistake and had someone else’s chart. Twelve months on from th
e darkest point in my life, things were supposed to be getting better. Only, the nightmares still came, Angel was still gone, and now my kidneys were failing.
“Is it possibly the change in medication . . .?” I let my question linger between us. The less concrete things I had to worry about, the easier it was to ignore the situation.
“There were signs of deterioration before that, but there is also a possibility that the shift caused some issues. That’s why I wanted to maintain regular tests.”
“I’ve been at the—” I cut off my excuse about being at the track when his lips pursed. He didn’t care about what I did around appointments with him—he viewed those appointments as life or death.
Probably because they were.
By ignoring the issue, I’d tipped the scales in favour of the latter.
“Phoebe, if you would like to talk about it, I’m here to answer any questions you might have.”
I took a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough. “Am I going to die?”
“Not if I have a say in it.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “There are changes you might need to make, but there’s nothing to stop you living a long life.”
“On dialysis?”
“Possibly. Down the track. There’s also the option of a secondary transplant. There have been greater successes seen with those in the last few years than ever before.”
Failure. Dialysis. Transplant.
All words I’d known might come up again in my life. A few years earlier, I was ready for them all. I’d even grudgingly been ready for death.
But then there was Beau.
Before him, I hadn’t known I could feel so much—the good and the bad. Despite watching Mum and Dad together as far back as I could remember, I hadn’t truly understood what it was to be one-half of a love so overwhelming it was easy to lose yourself in it.
Dr Reins kept talking, explaining what I could expect and where things might end up, but my thoughts were with Beau. His eyes, his smile, the way he made me feel like the only woman in the world when we were together. The care he’d given to ensuring he matched my diet and exercise regimes as we’d tried to conceive.
Tears flooded my eyes. Would I have to say goodbye to him too soon?
Other thoughts rushed in behind, and a new fear grew in me. Did Beau really understand how much I loved him? Angel hadn’t. She’d walked away and left me broken because she didn’t know. Had I told Beau enough?
Even if I had told him, had I shown him?
Beau loved me so much, and I barely made any concessions for him. I wouldn’t even marry him. Sure, we were supposed to be trying for a baby, and that was the biggest commitment of all, but I couldn’t pay him the courtesy of an “I do” before then even though I knew it was what he wanted?
He’d always said he understood, but he’d dropped enough hints over our time together—even before everything happened—for me to understand that he’d jump at the chance to say our vows. He had old-fashioned values and wanted to make those promises to each other. Like everything else though, he’d given up that desire for me.
My aversion to marriage was all based on the fear Xavier had instilled in me. He’d wanted to use marriage as a means of control. He’d used it as a threat and a promise while he’d kept me chained up. Beau had proven over and over that he was nothing like Xavier.
The thoughts filled me until it was time to leave the appointment. By the time I got home, I’d made up my mind on one thing, and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.
If we weren’t going to have a baby, we were at least going to have a wedding.
My decision played in my mind for the rest of the day until Beau came back from work.
The moment he walked in the door, I jumped to my feet and rushed to him. “Beau, will you ask me to marry you?”
His gaze widened and his smile grew in his slow way. “What?”
“I’ve never wanted anything more than to be yours forever,” I said. I was trying to be positive, but as I thought of the catalyst for the change in my choice about being married, my smile broke and tears flooded in to take its place.
“What is it, darlin’?”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. As I did, the dam broke, and I cried against his shoulder. Beau’s arms twitched at my side, no doubt wanting to hold me but unwilling to do so without my permission when I was upset. “Can you hold me? Please?”
I’d barely said the word “hold” when his arms wrapped around me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Can you just hold me for a while?” I asked, burying my head against his throat.
“Course.” We stayed wrapped together for a few deep breaths, and then he whispered, “Can I carry ya to the sofa?”
I nodded against his neck. He used his hold around my waist to lift me and carry me from where we stood near the door over to the sofa. After he had sat, he moved me into position on his lap, and I held him tighter.
“What happened?” he asked when I was able to finally quiet my tears.
“I went to see Dr Reins today.”
He frowned at me, and the fact that I hadn’t told him of my appointment twisted in my stomach. I hadn’t meant to lie to him or hide the truth from him, but I hadn’t wanted to worry him unnecessarily. Plus, I was hoping the news would’ve been happier.
“I know the reason I’ve been sick.”
His lips bordered between a smile and a frown as if he couldn’t decide whether my news was happy or not.
“My kidney . . .” I trailed off as I choked up. I buried my head against his neck once more, pressing my lips against his skin in a series of soft kisses before sobbing again.
His arms stiffened around me.
“The tests . . . They showed there’s a degree of renal failure.”
“What stage?” His voice shook, and he tightened his hold, drawing me close to his chest.
“Four.” A sob carried the word from me.
Releasing me so he wasn’t crushing me against his chest, he moved to caress my cheek. His motion was so sudden, and I was already so far on edge, that I flinched away.
He dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath. When he lifted his gaze again, he did a decent job at hiding his pain.
“A four ain’t the worst news,” he said, showing the research he’d done himself.
He was right. A four was a possible life sentence but not yet a death one.
“I know. I guess it just gave me a scare. It’s crazy. I lived the first eighteen years of my life almost completely fearless. There was nothing I wanted more than to race and live as much life as I could in the time that I had. Then I met you, and I’ve experienced fear like I’ve never known.” A tic ran over his features at my words. “I’ve never been happier either, but nothing has ever terrified me more than the thought of losing you. Or of not being married to you before I go. I want that with you, and I’d ask you, but I know you enough to know you’ll want to be the one to ask.”
“Ya ain’t plannin’ on leavin’ me yet, are ya?”
“Of course not.” I slipped my hands into his hair and brought his lips to mine. “I plan on annoying you for a long time to come. I just think I might actually be ready to do it as your wife.”
“That sounds mighty nice.”
“Besides, it might make up for the fact we’ll have to stop trying for a baby until they can stabilise things.”
He ran his fingertips over my back in soothing strokes.
“You’re not mad, are you?”
“Mad? ’Bout what?”
“About not being able to have a baby.”
“Ya know the answer to that as well as I do.” His lips met mine again.
I hummed against his mouth as our tongues danced. With his usual practised care, he moved his hand across my back until his fingertips played at the bottom of my shirt.
“How are ya feelin’ now?”
“Scared,” I admitted. “I want to beat this, but I can’t do that without you.�
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“Ya can do anything ya put your mind to.”
As he spoke, he shifted my shirt up, exposing my skin. A shiver ran through me. Something struck me—I’d given him permission to ask me to marry him, but he hadn’t taken it any further.
“Aren’t you going to ask me something?” I teased. I’d expected him to leap at the opportunity before I had a chance to second guess.
He smirked at me. “Nope.”
“What?”
“Ya asked me to ask ya, and I will, darlin’. Fact, I can’t wait, but not right now. I gotta find a way to do it right.”
As I thought about it, his response was just so . . . him. So us.
“This is why I love you.” I chuckled.
“Because I’m loveable and sweet?” he teased.
“No, because you’re ridiculously over the top and make me feel spoiled.”
“Ya deserve to be spoiled.”
“I’ll need to tell Dad. The toll of being in the car, and the level of fluids I’ll need to have to be out there, won’t be healthy for me. You might get your chance after all.”
“I don’t want it like this.”
I ran my hand over his cheek. “It might sound cruel, but I don’t care if you aren’t happy about it. You need to do the right thing for me, for the team, and for my family, and that’s taking over for me.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about what to do around racing. I’ve never needed to.”
BEAU’S HAND HELD mine tight as I sat across from Mum and Dad.
I bit my cheek to stop me from breaking down. When I’d told them we needed to have an urgent conversation without the rest of the family around, Mum had told us to come around first thing in the morning and then leapt to work. By the time we arrived a little after nine in the morning, all of my siblings were either at school or Aunt Ruby and Uncle Josh’s house in Browns Plains. It meant I only had to tell Mum and Dad, and they could work out how to tell everyone else—if we were going to—but that didn’t mean it was easy to say the words.
Phantom (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #5) Page 15