Again, there was the unspoken “but”. The one Natalie never, ever said to patients—hell, the one she never even allowed herself to think.
She was thinking it now.
Despite all that great medicine, you could still die.
Natalie realized Jeff had gone quiet, and she cleared her throat. She had to hold it together. She had to be strong. Optimistic. “I understand. Can I come in first thing tomorrow for the MRI?”
“Of course. We can sit down with the results and go from there.” He paused. “I’m so sorry, Natalie. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“Thanks, Jeff.”
She lowered her phone to her lap, her head swimming so fast, it nearly knocked her sideways.
Her cancer was back.
Tears formed, hot and fast in her eyes, and her heart slammed so rapidly, she grew short of breath. She inhaled deeply to counter it, logically knowing that she was within millimeters of a panic attack that wouldn’t help her in any way. Good luck telling that to the rest of her, of course. She might as well be trying to nail Jell-O to a tree.
This could not be happening.
“Okay. Okay, okay, okay.” Natalie chanted the word over and over until it blended into one sound. She had to focus here. She had to do…something other than freak out. Her brain darted to work, and okay, yes. Yes. Work always calmed her. She could figure this out. She could.
She was going to have to take a leave of absence—being around sick patients when her own immune system was compromised would be out of the question. She could probably—maybe?—still work when she felt up to it, though, she reasoned, grasping at the bright side like a champ. Langston might be willing to let her do research on behalf of the hospital, or…God, something. The job with Harlow was out of the question now, but Natalie was oddly not upset about that. In truth, she’d been leaning toward not taking it anyway. She had always kind of felt as if that position was made for someone with far more business sense than she owned.
Of course, Natalie was assuming she’d be able to work at all. If this cancer had spread to her spinal cord, she’d have to do God knew how many rounds of chemo and radiation, and they’d be brutal. Just because she’d responded to treatments when she’d been younger didn’t mean the process hadn’t been physically grueling. It also didn’t mean they’d work this time, but no. No, no, no, no, no, she had to stay positive. A cancer diagnosis wasn’t a death sentence. Natalie said this to patients all the time.
Damn, she was full of shit.
Tears threatened again, this time with more power. Yes, there were options, and yes, she was alive in this very minute, which was what counted. But the obstacles seemed suddenly huge and very, very different than when she’d faced them as a kid. Then, she’d had her parents…
Oh, God. Her parents.
Jonah.
All the hope Natalie had tried to hold on to disappeared like smoke in a gust of wind. Jonah’s biggest fear, the one that had controlled him for decades of his life and kept him from having any sort of close relationships, was that love didn’t last. She had sworn to him that it could, that it did. She’d promised him she was there, and that the risk was worth taking. She’d sworn she’d never leave him.
What if that had been a lie?
The realization ripped through her, carving a path through her chest. Yes, Natalie loved him—so much that she felt it in her blood and in her bones. But her blood and bones had cancer, and as much as she wanted to find the bright side and silver lining, she couldn’t.
She couldn’t do this to him. Jonah hadn’t said it, but Natalie knew he loved her. He’d asked her to move in with him, for Chrissake, a step no one, including him, thought he’d ever take again. She was the only person he’d let past all his defenses. Natalie had told him she would always be there, and he’d believed her. The way he’d believed his mother would always be there, too.
Tears began to slide down her face, opening up a torrent of sobs that echoed off the apartment walls. She’d made a promise she could no longer keep, no matter how badly she wanted to. She couldn’t look Jonah right in those beautiful baby blues and swear to him that she’d never leave, that she wouldn’t crush the very hope she’d fostered. That Natalie wouldn’t mean to hurt him was of little consequence—the pain didn’t have to be intentional in order to devastate someone, and there was no guarantee that this cancer wouldn’t get worse and kill her, making her leave him like everyone else he’d ever cared about.
She couldn’t risk his heart. Even if it broke hers.
JONAH BALANCED the grocery bag he’d filled with chicken noodle soup, Saltines, and Gatorade on one hip, riffling through his keys to single out the one to his apartment. Getting his father situated back at home had taken a day longer than Jonah had anticipated, but it had been time well spent. They’d been able to set up a schedule for follow-up appointments and review prescriptions, plus meet with a nutritionist to start making some healthier changes to the old man’s diet. Vivian had been a huge help, and it took a load off Jonah’s mind knowing that someone was there, caring for his father.
Now he needed to take care of Nat. He’d barely spoken to her over the past four days. The flu was no joke, and they were deep in the heart of the season. He’d take his chances, though, because no way was he not going to tuck her in on the couch and fix her a bowl of soup. He might even let her pick the movie, although he’d probably regret it a tiny bit. They’d have to figure out some kind of system now that they were living together.
Jonah’s grin was so sweet and so good, he could practically taste it. Christ, he loved her. Rom coms and all.
And he wanted to tell her.
Maneuvering his key into the lock, he flipped the deadbolt and made his way inside. The lights were on in the apartment, and even though the living room and kitchen were empty, he could hear movement in the bedroom, signaling that Natalie was awake.
“Hey! I’m home,” Jonah called out, heading to the kitchen to drop the bag on the counter before moving back to the living room. “How are you feeling? I brought you some…”
The rest of his words stopped cold as he caught sight of Natalie, standing in the living room entryway. Although she was fully dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt (weird), she looked like hell, her face drawn and pale and shadows framing her reddened eyes.
“Oh, babe, this flu is really knocking you down, isn’t it?” Jonah asked. He took a step toward her, confusion prickling through him as she countered with a step back.
“I don’t have the flu.”
His brows flew upward. “What?”
“I…” She bit her lip, which already looked worse for wear, as if she’d been doing it a lot lately. “We need to talk.”
The look on Natalie’s face was so serious that he immediately said, “Okay. What’s the matter?”
She didn’t answer, but walked into the living room instead. She sat down in the single chair in the room, the one that barely ever got used because they always sat tangled together on the couch, and what the hell was going on?
“Nat, you’re kind of scaring me, here,” Jonah said. He sat at the end of the couch closest to her, reaching for her hands.
But again, she pulled away from him. “I got my test results back.”
His thoughts stuttered. “Your blood test?” No, no. No, she had to be talking about something else. She couldn’t mean—
“Yes. My cancer is back, Jonah.”
The bottom dropped out of his belly, and he tried—desperately—to process what she’d said. His brain automatically vaulted to the medicine, desperately trying to put the variables in order.
“Okay, but that’s one blood test. It’s not even close to definitive. You could have an infection, or something else. It could be a lot of things that aren’t cancer,” Jonah argued. “You need more tests, that’s all.”
Natalie shook her head. “I’ve already had them.”
Shock bloomed in his belly, a sharp thread of anger hot on its heels. “You�
�ve already had them? When?”
Her hesitation told him he wasn’t going to like her reply, and hell if it wasn’t right on the money. “A few days ago. The biopsy showed atypical cells consistent with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. The MRI and lumbar puncture confirmed that the cancer hasn’t moved to my spinal cord, but the treatment plan is still aggressive. I’ll be starting chemo in a couple weeks.”
For the life of him, Jonah was never going to make it past the emotions crowding his brain. “You had all those tests without telling me?” For fuck’s sake, a bone marrow biopsy was a surgical procedure. Outpatient, but still. She had to have been in pain. Not to mention terrified. How could she not have at least called to let him know this was happening?
Something that looked an awful lot like despair flashed in Natalie’s eyes, filling them with tears. But she blinked them away and said, “It’s not your burden to carry.”
Just like that, his emotions tipped over.
“Bullshit, Natalie!” Jonah’s voice rose without his permission, but right now, he didn’t care. He might not have been a long-haul guy for a long-ass time, but she had to know this was different. She was different. “After everything we’ve been through, after everything I’ve told you and everything you’ve told me, how can you say that?”
Natalie closed her eyes and dropped her chin toward her chest. But when she opened them again, they didn’t waver, and neither did her words.
“Because it can’t be your burden, Jonah. It’s not that I don’t think you’d carry it for me,” she added quickly, squashing his rising protest. “God, I know you would, and that’s exactly the point. You’d carry all of this for me even if it hurt you beyond repair.” She paused, her gaze becoming a plea. “But I can’t let that happen. I made you a promise, and I have to keep it.”
Jonah’s chin whipped up. No. No. Not fucking happening. “You think you’re going to die and leave me behind? That’s insane, Natalie. You’re not going to die. You’re going to go through treatment. You’re going to kick this cancer’s ass just like you did when you were a kid, and then you’re going to live a long, happy life.”
With me, he added silently.
But out loud, Natalie said, “Maybe. But maybe not.”
“You will,” he insisted, but even then, he knew she was right.
There were no guarantees. There was a chance, even if it was small, that she could die, and oh God, he couldn’t lose her.
“I hope I do, but that isn’t a risk I can take. Not when I know what it would do to you if I don’t go into remission again,” Natalie said, and in that moment, fear gripped Jonah, good and hard.
“I don’t care about me,” he said, and funny, he really didn’t.
Natalie’s smile was small and sad, and Christ, it clawed at him, despite being fucking beautiful. “But I do. I won’t put you through this. It’s months, possibly years, of not knowing, all with no guarantee. And I refuse to let you hope for that long, all for a risk that might hurt you terribly. I’m sorry, Jonah. I really am. But I can’t let you be a long-haul guy. Not for this.”
Of all the words Natalie could have chosen, those sliced the deepest, pinning him into place as she continued. “I had a long talk with my parents last night, and I’ll be staying with them until my apartment is finished. I’ve got a meeting with Langston in the morning, but I’ll probably be taking a leave of absence for a little while once the chemo starts.”
Jonah’s thoughts raced along with his pulse, and he couldn’t control either. “Nat, I am asking you.” He swallowed hard. “Please. Don’t do this.”
A flicker of emotion moved through her eyes, and for a split second, Jonah had hope.
But then she stood, placing the key he’d given her on the coffee table and walking to the door.
“I have to. Goodbye,” she whispered.
And then she was gone.
29
Natalie stared at the ceiling in her childhood bedroom and tried not to cry. It was only three in the afternoon, but the second she’d gotten back from her meeting with Langston, she’d put on her rattiest pair of pajamas and slid back under the covers. Her mother had given her a surprisingly wide berth since she’d shown up last night, as promised. Her parents had taken her cancer news a little better than Natalie had expected, although they’d both been clearly shaken and just as clearly worried about her. But they hadn’t insisted that she move back in permanently, nor had they lost their minds when she’d confessed to what had happened with Bathtubgate. Instead, her mother had simply made up Natalie’s old bedroom while her father had fixed her a ginormous Cuban sandwich (“not as good as that gal who runs The Crooked Angel downtown, but still, not too shabby,” he’d joked), both of them caring for her in exactly the way she’d needed.
The only thing Natalie had been missing were a bunch of eighties action movies and a sexy, smart-assed best friend to watch them with.
God, she missed Jonah.
A knock sounded off on the door, and Natalie pulled in a shaky breath, wiping her eyes. “Come in,” she said, faking a smile as her mother poked her head into the room.
“Hi, sweetie. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No,” Natalie said, “I was just…staring at the ceiling,” she confessed, and her mother came in to sit on the side of the bed.
“That makes sense, I suppose. You’ve had a long couple of days.”
Worry filled her mother’s eyes. But instead of telling her she was fine, Natalie said, “I have. Getting the news was hard, and if I’m being totally honest…I’m scared.”
“You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t,” her mother replied, and Natalie’s jaw dropped open.
“You’re okay with me being scared?”
Her mother laughed, and who knew the woman could be so full of surprises? “Of course I’m not okay with it. You’re my daughter, and I only want for you to be happy and well. But it’s perfectly understandable for you to be scared, considering what you’re about to tackle, and just because you’re scared, that doesn’t mean you can’t also be tough.”
Natalie sat up, pressing her back against the pillows and staring at her mother more fully. “Since when are you so Zen about this kind of thing?”
“Oh, let me be clear, honey. I’m scared, too, and your father and I are taking this news about your health very, very seriously.” The sudden glint of tears in her mother’s eyes marked the words as all truth, making Natalie’s gut squeeze. “But if your first round of cancer taught me anything, it’s that you are so much stronger than you know.”
“You think I’m strong,” Natalie said dubiously. She meant no disrespect, but this was a woman who would have (lovingly) dressed her in head-to-toe bubble wrap just to keep her from getting bruised by a bedside table that stuck out too far.
Her mother shook her head. “No, Natalie. I know you’re strong, because you showed me. Not just by beating cancer, but by becoming the adult that you are. For goodness sake, look at you! You’re a surgeon. Smart. Capable. Kind. And very, very strong. But also human.” Her mother took her hand. “And that means you’re going to be scared, too.”
“But what if I get really sick?” Natalie whispered. She hated for her mother to even think about it—she was terrified to picture it, herself. “How can I be strong then?”
Her mother paused, giving Natalie’s hand a good squeeze. “Well, sweetheart, if you get really sick and can’t be strong for a while, then I guess you’ll have to let the people who love you carry you until you can. I know you think you always have to be okay. But the truth of it is, if you’re not, you can still be loved.”
Tears streamed down Natalie’s face, her chest hitching as it ached. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to hope. She wanted Jonah, with his charming smiles and crazy taste in movies and slow, sweet kisses.
But all of that was over now. She still had cancer, which meant there was still a chance she could hurt him. She needed to forget it and move on.
No matter how much it hur
t.
A sob worked its way up her throat, and for the first time ever, Natalie didn’t try to cage it. She expected her mother to wipe away her tears and tell her not to be sad, that everything would be okay. But instead, her mother did something far more soothing.
She pulled Natalie into her arms and let her cry.
JONAH MADE it ninety-nine percent of the way through his shift before Tess, Charlie, and Connor fucking cornered him in the attendings’ lounge. Connor wasn’t even technically supposed to be in here, yet here he was, his mammoth, inked arms crossed over his equally mammoth chest as he stood next to Charlie, who was anchored in the exact same stance.
Yet, neither one of them was half as scary as Tess, who locked the door behind Jonah as soon as it bumped shut behind him, and damn it. Damn it! He knew he should’ve bribed the interns to distract the three of them so he could get his stuff from his locker and make a quick getaway.
Hindsight was a bitch.
“Okay, Charm School. Starting talking,” Tess said, moving around him to join Charlie and Connor.
“What, you three didn’t want to add Mallory for extra muscle?” Jonah grumbled, and Charlie arched an auburn brow.
“He’s in surgery, otherwise we would have. And nice try, but no more stalling. What the hell is going on, Jonah? Seriously.”
The woman I love has cancer and she won’t let me help her fight it. My heart is in a trillion pieces on the floor. I drank enough bourbon last night to tranq a rhino. Take your pick. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Connor frowned. It was a very weird look on him. “Well, for starters, Dr. Langston sent out an email about an hour ago that said Dr. K is going on an immediate leave of absence to take care of a ‘personal issue’.” He slung air quotes around the words, his frown growing deeper.
Better Than Me (A Remington Medical Contemporary Romance) Page 28