Page 37 of Ryker

Fuck, I can’t stand this. My mom doesn’t need a juice box, she needs a miracle.

“Ashley, please reconsider what we’ve discussed today.”

She puts her hand up to silence the doctor. “I’ve made up my mind.” Squeezing my arm, she looks up at me and says, “Take me home, baby.”

My legs feel like weights are strapped to my ankles as I half-carry her out of the office. Once we reach the waiting area, Dmitri hops up and gently grabs her other arm. Together, we get her outside and to the bus stop. Panic chokes me. I know damn well she’ll never step foot in this side of town again if I can’t get her to change her mind about treatment.

“Shit, I forgot to pay. Wait here with D, okay?” I dash back, feeling guilty for lying–because I’d paid up front for the visit the instant my mother went into the room for her exam—and I book it straight back to the doctor’s office.

Out of breath, I grab his arm, stopping him before he enters the next patient’s room. “What’s wrong with her now?”

His frown deepens, making him look ancient. Holding the clipboard to his chest, he takes off his glasses and stares up at me. “It’s spread to her bones, Ryker. I tried to convince her to be in a clinical trial, but she’s not having it.”

“Will it save her?” Because if so, I’ll do all that’s in my power to get her into that study. Why won’t he fucking answer me? My voice shakes as I yell, “WILL IT SAVE HER?”

“No.”

The floor opens and swallows me whole. My legs buckle. I fall to my knees. “Why…” I can’t breathe. “Why would you have her in the study, then?” For more money? Because these treatments have cost me all I have and then some. For hope? Because that shit’s worthless. Because they need a goddamn guinea pig? She’s worth more than that.

“For more time,” he says. “It’ll buy her time to be with you, Ryker.”

My gaze falls to the linoleum floor. I can’t feel my face. “Time spent sick in the bathroom or passed out in bed.” Rage coils in my gut. I understand why my mother would refuse to do it.

But I also desperately want her to be with me for as long as possible.

It’s the selfishness that snaps me out of my sorrow. How dare I think of myself when she’s the one suffering.

It doesn’t matter that I quit school a year ago and lie to her every day about it. It doesn’t matter that I work in construction by day, and as an escort by night. It doesn’t matter that I’ve managed to put food in our bellies and pay our rent. It doesn’t matter that all the medical bills are on a payment plan so I can manage them as best I can since my mom lost her health insurance because she also lost her job. I’d forged a letter from the company, saying they were giving her a severance package and allowing her to keep the health benefits as a thank you for her years of dedication. She was too sick at that point to question it. I’m not even sure she cared.

My mom’s lived a hard, brutal, awful life. Abused by her father, then battered by her shit husband, only to run off with me when it got too unbearable, too painful and dangerous, to stay in her marriage to my dad. She’s done nothing but struggle to keep us safe and happy ever since. I’ll be damned if I make her life any harder by not giving her the choice and respecting her decision.

No matter how much it hurts me.

“I’m so sorry, son.”

“Fuck you.” I growl as rage rips through me. “Fuck every single one of you who said she’d be saved.” I lift onto shaky legs and storm out of the office, knowing I’ll never come back here again. By the time I return to my mom and Dmitri, I’m so numb I can’t even hear the traffic honking around us.

“You good?” D asks.

My gaze lands on my mom. She stares at me with watery eyes and a stern expression that dares me to defy her. Dares me to beg her to do something she doesn’t want to do.

I drop to my knees in front of her and hold her hands. My palms are sweaty. Hers are ice. “Make a list,” I say firmly. “We’re going to check it off and do everything you want until you can’t anymore.”

She closes her eyes as a sigh leaves her cracked lips, and the weight that seems to lift off her shoulders now lands heavily on mine.

Our bus pulls up and the doors open. D and I get her on board and into a seat where she rests her head against the window and closes her eyes.

D sits in the empty row behind her, and I sit next to him so my mom can stretch out on the bench seat if she wants. “What’s going on, Ryker?”

“She’s dying,” I say, admitting it out loud for the first time. “And she’s refusing anymore treatment.”

“Shit.” His head slams back on the headrest and I know his heart is breaking just like mine. My mom’s been a mother to us both for years. “What can I do?”

I don’t have a clue. I can’t think straight.

The bus takes off and as we get further and further away from the doctor’s office, it’s like I didn’t just leave the building behind, but all my hope too. It’s done. It’s over. I can’t do anything but move forward.

“When she makes a list, I want to check everything off, no matter what. It might get expensive.” I have no clue what my mom might want to do, but I swear to God, if she says she wants to eat a croissant in front of the Eiffel fucking tower, I’m going to make sure I take her there and get her the best pastry in all of France. “She deserves happiness before she dies.”

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