Page 84 of Sweet Nothings

When my helicopter lands on top of my apartment building, I race down to the parking garage.

I climb into my black Bugatti and race out of the garage faster than I probably should, but all I can think about is getting to the hospital. I weave in and out of traffic, racing against the clock. I check my phone, but there’s no message or missed call from Laurel. Having been in her situation, I wouldn’t blame her.

I wipe my hand over my mouth but flinch when I see my reflection in the rear-view mirror. Dried blood is caked across the back of my hand. I didn’t even bother waiting to see whereKellan went after Roe collapsed. Last I saw of him was when he fell to the floor against the wall in a slump, holding his hands to his face. I know I fucked him up, but I don’t give a shit. Fucker deserved it.

My tires screech against the pavement when I reach the hospital parking garage. I swing into the closest spot and run through the large automatic doors of the emergency room.

I stop at the front desk.

“Hi,” I say to the nurse, breathless. “My name is Lennon Harding. My wife Laurel Harding was airlifted here with her sister, Monroe Caulder.”

“Oh, yes,” she says, her brown eyes softening. “Your wife told us you would be coming. They took your sister-in-law into the exam room, but your wife should be just down the hall.” The nurse presses a button behind her desk. Followed by a loud high pitch buzzing sound, the door with a large red stripe painted across it clicks. I grab the handle and swing it open. My eyes scan the hall, frantically looking for Laurel, and when I see her standing at the end of the hallway with her face in her hands, memories slam into me, stealing the air from my lungs and forcing me to stop dead in my tracks. I’ve been here before. Every step is instinctual, as if I’ve taken this same path. Because I have. I must have been so intently focused on finding Laurel, I hadn’t realized I’d done the same drive from my apartment building to the same hospital. I parked in the same garage and ran the same walkway leading to the large automatic doors. Muscle memory kicked in, rearing its ugly head.

This isn’t exactly a situation I want to relive.

I blink, panic starting to set in. Slapping my hand to my chest, over my heart, I take a breath in. I swear, I see myself six years ago, standing in this same hallway talking to the doctor. The one who handed me a clip board with a blank line, waiting for my signature.

But then I blink again, and the doctor and I disappear. All I see is Laurel. She’s still standing with her back against the wall and her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders rack with sobs.

I run down the hall, calling her name. “Laurel!”

She gasps, snapping her head up to the sound of my voice. If my heart wasn’t winning out, I swear my knees would give out. Laurel’s face guts me. A broken heart, filled with fear, her faded red lip quivers. “Lennon?”

“I’m here,” I tell her, immediately pulling her to me. I place my hand on the back of her head and hold her against my chest.

She curls in on herself, allowing me to hold her. I kiss the top of her head and run my hand down the length of her back.

I place both my hands on her mascara-streaked cheeks, willing her to look up at me.

When she does, my fractured soul splinters, the cracks widening. Seeing my wife broken tears me apart.

“Where is she?” I ask her.

“In there.” She tries to tell me, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. Every word is choppy and caught at the end of a hiccupped breath. “When we got here, they immediately wheeled her into the room.”

“Do you know how she is?”

“No,” she says, tears spilling from her red eyes. “They haven’t said anything. No one has come out. But the paramedic did tell me on the ride here that they called her oncologist. He’s in there, too. I think.”

“Okay.” I nod, unsure of what to say. I take a breath and run my fingers through Laurel’s windswept hair. “What’s important is that they’re with her. I’m sure the doctors will figure out what’s happening.”

“I hope so.” She frowns, but I can see she isn’t entirely convinced. She’s terrified. Her eyes are glossed over as if she’snot exactly here in the hallway with me. She’s in her own mind again, pulling herself back into her shell.

She shivers, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill. I slide out of my suit jacket and drape it over her shoulders. As if on auto pilot, she slips her arms in, staring at the floor as she mutters, “Thank you.”

“Come here.” I wrap my hand around hers and walk her over to the opposite wall. We fall back against it and slide to the floor. Nurses down the hall and at the far station give us a sideways glance, but they don’t say anything to us. I’m unsure why. Maybe they can see the fear and pain in Laurel’s eyes. The emergency room is eerily quiet. It’s odd, considering this is a hospital in the heart of downtown Boston.

I rest against the wall and bend my knees, not wanting them to stick out into the hallway. Laurel sits down beside me and rests her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and lay my cheek on the top of her head. I stare at the blank white wall, holding back my own emotion. I wait for Laurel to speak first. I know sometimes words aren’t needed when you feel lost and helpless.

Minutes pass by in silence. My hand pulsates and aches, bruises already blooming under the dried blood.

“I’m sorry, Lennon,” Laurel whispers beside me.

“Laurel.” I say her name with as much energy as I can pull together, making sure she knows how sincere I am in this moment. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

She adjusts herself beside me enough to look up at me. Her tears have dried. For now. But the pain and fear are still lingering in her indigo eyes.

“How long have you known?” I ask her. I can’t bring myself to say the word cancer. It’s the same disease I watched drain the life out of my mother, and now Laurel has been forced to watch it do the same to her sister.

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