Page 9 of Bad Blood

“I need more tests.”

“What?” My heart skips an entire beat as if it’s trying to remind me to breathe.

His lips are moving in combination with wild hand gestures, but I continue to stare, overcome by the sound of my pulse rushing through my ears.

“Earth to Dax, you in there?” He waves a hand in front of my face.

“You need more tests?”

He drops his head back. “Were you listening to anything I said? I have an appointment at nine at the hospital.”

“Today?” I underestimated just how bad this is. Anything requiring a visit to the hospital can’t be good.

Liam sets his menu on the edge of the table. “It’s just to get more information.”

“And?”

I have a million questions, but none I can turn into cohesive sentences. There’s a new sense of urgency. This is ten times worse than my imagined worst-case scenario.

Liam averts his gaze. “It’s gonna be fine. I’m gonna be fine.” Liam’s never the one to reassure me, especially if the topic has to do with him. He absentmindedly rubs at his hip—the source of all our problems.

I was right. This is bigger than I thought.

Ever.

“Why do you need to be seen today?”

He shrugs and glances around the diner. Smiles and waves at someone passing by. He’s stalling.

“Because Dr. Gibbons doesn’t specialize in this sort of thing.” He nods at someone behind me and offers them a wide smile.

“What sort of thing?” I need answers before we’re interrupted, and struggle to keep the disbelief out of my voice. My mouth goes dry when our eyes meet. He surveys my face for a reaction, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out the best way to break it to me.

Why won’t he give me the details? Get it over with? Shoot me in the heart and let me bleed out?

I can’t do this.

I can’t bring myself to ask him outright. Because once he tells me, there’s no going back. And what if I can’t handle the truth?

He swallows and averts his gaze as he shifts his weight in the booth, his nonchalant answer accompanied by a cautious grin. “Bone cancer.”

The buzzing in my ears intensifies, and I can’t focus. “What’s the appointment for?”

He shrugs.

“You know you have to tell me eventually, right?”

I get another shrug.

“Liam, come on. Talk to me,” I plead, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.

“It’s for more testing, a CT scan, some lab work . . . I don’t remember what else.”

“But why the hospital?”

“Could you do me a favor?” he asks as he leans over the table. His unexpected question jars me from my train of thought.

“Depends.”

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