Page 51 of Steamy Ever After

"I have cancer."

The words tumble from my mother’s trembling lips and my world kilters from its axis. Cancer. The word echoes through my mind, bouncing around like a cruel joke. I glance over at my brother, his usually carefree expression now corrupted with sadness and worry. There she sat. Our rock. Our guiding light. Looking so small and fragile.

Tears distort my vision as they well up in my eyes, the pelting rain now beating against the cedar shakes. As I wrestle with my thoughts and try to process this news, my thoughts consume me. How can this be happening?

"I would have told you sooner." The sound of Mom's voice wanes and Lacey squeezes her hand.

"You knew," I convict her with my eyes and she lifts her gaze.

"I wrote it on a piece of paper with an oncologist's information. The paper fell out of my book and Lacey found it."

In that moment, I feel a surge of gratitude for her presence as Lacey's eyes fill with compassion and concern.

"I wouldn't have betrayed your confidence, Rose."

"I was going to tell you sooner but didn't want to ruin our time away." Mom's voice holds a tremble.

Tears glisten in her eyes as Lacey comforts her. I'm her son—her blood—and I'm lost for what to say. What's an appropriate response when your world falls to pieces? When six letters form a curse and change your whole life?

"What can I do for you, Mom? What can any of us do?" Declan asks, his palms raised in surrender.

"Make the memory of this week last me for a lifetime." She smiles a sweet smile and I swallow a stone of emotion as she sets her sights on me. "Are you okay?"

I nod. It's all I can manage.

The room falls silent for what feels like an eternity, Mom's news shrouding us all with its dark, heavy curtain. I was so self-absorbed I hadn't until this moment noticed the fatigue in her eyes or the way her spirit flickered when it used to shine bright. The unseen, relentless beast attacked when I wasn't looking.

"I'll come down and take you for treatment."

"That won't be necessary," she states with a shake of her head. "It's late stage. I've decided to forego treatment."

"You can't," my brother protests.

"I can, and I am. It's my decision and I don't want to spend what's left of my time being injected with poison."

"But it'll buy you time."

"I don't need more time to be sick and weak. I'm choosing quality over quantity."

My throat is dry. I struggle to find words. How do you respond when someone you love tells you something like this? My thoughts are all over the place and so many of them turn to questions. How long does she have? Did I treasure every moment? How will I survive losing the woman who's always been my rock—my guiding light?

I'll respect Mom's decision, but I resent it. I want her here, with us, for as long as possible.

"I will visit the oncologist when we return. Right now, I'm confident I'm making the right decision, but I want to hear all the options before I've totally made my peace with it.

"I'll go with you."

"I'll go with you, too." Declan repeats.

"I'd like to go alone."

"I don't think that's wise," I protest.

"The doctor wants to do a biopsy but from the test results they have so far, it appears that it's very invasive."

"I'll come down and go with you."

"Carter, I don't ne?—"

---