Page 116 of Bad Blood

“I don’t remember what Dax said her name was.” I wave my hand, dismissing that aspect of the conversation.

“Why do you have my brother’s number on your personal phone?”

“We ran into each other last week.” Guilt courses through me, and I try to find a reasonable explanation.

How much does Liam know?

“And you give your number to random guys you run into?”

“Can we discuss this away from prying ears?” My cheeks heat. I sense the nurses are watching us, but I keep my focus on Liam and absentmindedly rub a hand over my empty breast pocket. The damn USB. I only have a little longer until I can . . .

Liam’s phone buzzes, and he brings it to his ear. “Hey, Dax.” He studies me with narrowed eyes as his lips tilt into a grin. He covers the mouthpiece and directs his question to me. “You sure I don’t need to reschedule?”

“We can squeeze you in. Lauren can get a treatment area set up.” She smiles at me and hurries out from behind the nurses’ station without prompting.

He leans against the counter beside me as we wait for Lauren to return. I keep my eyes glued to him, but he stares off into space.

Sweat trickles down the side of his ashen face. He shivers, pulling at the strings of his hoodie. Being tired is synonymous with the aftermath of treatment, but Liam seems to be taking it harder than most. His jaw twitches, highlighting the five o’clock shadow covering his square jaw, irritation splashing across his features as he listens to Dax.

“Thinking,” he says into the phone. “No.” He pauses for a beat. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Lauren gestures us over from the other side of the floor, and I follow Liam. He slouches in the reclining chair, pulls off his sweatshirt, and jerks open the collar of his shirt to allow access to his port.

“I’ll take care of this one,” I explain to Lauren.

She nods her head toward the nurses’ station, her forehead wrinkling. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, one year closer to bingo nights and senior discounts. I told you I’d stay home,” Liam says as he makes eye contact with me and rolls his eyes before putting the phone on speaker.

Dax’s voice fills the room. “I’m on my way.”

“It’s too late. I’m already here.”

“Keep me on the phone, at least. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left the city.”

“You’re probably right.” Liam bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at me from beneath his honey-colored lashes.

I imagine the guilt Dax feels, especially knowing how rough week two chemo can get.

Liam gives me a crooked smile; the joy he gets from pestering his brother is evident in his light voice. “At the park.” Somehow, I’ve lost track of their conversation.

“For the last hour?” Dax’s voice comes across as a scolding parent.

Liam flinches, and the corner of his mouth crinkles as the medication flows into the port. “And the coffee shop. The back of a cab. And downstairs in the lobby.”

I log in to the computer on the counter in search of Liam’s updated stats. They’re here up to Wednesday of week one chemo, but nothing from his infusions last week. I click through his chart and pause at his CT scan for the next week. It’s been canceled. That can’t be right.

“I’ll be right back,” I say as I yank back the curtain and head to the nurses’ station.

“Hey,” I say as Lauren smiles up at me from her paperwork. “Is Liam’s chart up here?”

“Probably.” She rolls her chair out from under the counter and scoots to the opposite end near the file baskets. She lifts a couple before finding his and rolling back to me. “I haven’t updated his info on the computer.”

I take the offered chart and scan over the information I don’t need. Everything looks like it’s going as planned. I skim over his labs and infusion information from last week. But there’s nothing about the CT scan.

“Is there a reason Liam’s CT was canceled?”

“His CT was canceled?” Lauren’s fingers fly across her keyboard as she readjusts her glasses to stare at the screen. She leans forward, resting her chin on her palm. “That can’t be right.”

---