Page 54 of Bad Blood

“I was bringing you this.” She hands me a sheet of paper. I hesitate a second too long. And she notices. “You left this on the counter. Everything okay?”

I snatch the CT report out of her hand and give her a pinched smile. “Of course. Why?”

Her brows lift into her bangs, and she uses her pointer finger to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She gives me the all-knowing look I hate. I can appreciate her reaching out to me without questioning my motives. “Need me to fill in for a sec?”

“That would be great.” I give a stiff smile before I take off toward the back hall. I scan my badge and try the handle.

Shit.

I repeat the process again.

And again.

I close my eyes, glancing behind me, sure I’m making a spectacle, but everyone else continues in their business, not paying me any attention. I raise the badge and swipe it slow and deliberate—the green light flashes.

Finally.

I race to my office, close the door behind me, and collapse against it as I slide to the floor. I pull my knees to my chest and bury my head in my hands. I’m going to sit here until I get myself under control.

Maybe Kline was right.

Maybe I can’t handle this.

I already did it once with Grady. Failed with Collins’ case. And now this. Why am I putting myself through this torture?

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes until stars are swimming behind my lids. What is wrong with me? Why am I making this about me?

Liam’s CT read sits beside me on the linoleum. I should pick it up. Go over the results. Reorient myself.

I grab the door handle, gather my composure, and stand. My heart continues to thunder in my chest as I make my way back to the main floor.

I settle my palm on the handle of Liam’s room. Count to ten. I close my eyes, try to gather my bearings, and put on a happy face as I open the door.

“You ready?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Are we still waiting for Dax?”

“I’ve already waited this long.” He crosses his ankles, readjusting on the table. “Whatcha got for me?”

I give him a reassuring smile. “The results aren’t what we hoped for, but we can do this. You all in?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

I slide his chart onto my lap and place his CT report at the front, handing him the copy.

His eyes gaze back and forth across the page. “Can you tell me what this means in layman’s terms?”

“Your cancer has metastasized into your lungs,” I say, ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid, “which is not ideal, but not something out of the ordinary.”

“Typical.”

“Do you have any questions?”

He tilts his head in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Lauren said I would have to get another CT scan?”

“Not for a while. More like a month after we’ve started chemo.”

---