Page 60 of Healed Hearts

He turns and leads us into a room. Wren tugs me along, wanting to follow her Holden, so I take off too. To my utter shock, when he gets us settled, he doesn’t stay. It’s possible he’s busy, I guess. But he hands me a remote, shows me the call button, gives me a fake smile, and tears out of the room.

We sit in the room for a while. I don’t bother turning on the TV, and Wren plays with the remote while I try to figure out why Holden didn’t stay in here with us.

A couple of minutes later, the door opens, and a grim-faced Holden walks in. “Hey guys, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” It’s clear he’s trying to hide behind a professional facade. But unlike the first time, Iknowhim. I know he’s hiding from me. What I don’t understand is why.

My mind goes fuzzy around the edges as he explains that Dr. Mays wants to do a bone marrow biopsy to test for leukemia. My blood is whooshing in my ears. All the fear I’d managed to shove down the last few weeks in the face of Holden’s competency is rising so quickly that it almost suffocates me.

He’s still talking, but I can’t hear anything he’s saying. I can’t think of anything past the fear ricocheting through my body.

He holds out a paper to me. “Do you understand?” I don’t. Not at all, but I trust him with my life. With Wren’s life. So I nod and take the papers from him, giving them a cursory scan before signing my name.

I hand them back to him with numb fingers. He gives me a detached, professional smile, and leaves again.

It could be minutes or hours before Dr. Mays and Holden walk back in, but when they do, Dr. Mays wastes no time getting right down to business. “We’re going to take her to oncology to do this.” My blood freezes in my veins at his words. I can’t do that.

No. I really can’t.

“Can you give us a second?” I hear Holden ask.

I have no idea what Doctor Asshole says, but then Holden is in my face, holding my jaw in his hands. I reach up, gripping his wrists. “It’s going to be okay, Julian. I promise.” I nod, but I’m not convinced. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to take both of them, right? What kind of sick fucking joke would that be?

“You can do this,” he murmurs. I nod again. I focus on the different shades of green in his eyes, and the dark lashes surrounding them. As my breathing returns to normal, I realize that his thumbs are rubbing back and forth over my jaw, his touch light and tentative. Nothing like the death grip I have on him.

“We’re going to a procedure room, okay? It’s actually right outside the hall. We won’t be on the actual floor. It’s going to be okay.” I focus on his voice and his words. “Would you like me to get you something for the anxiety?” he asks softly, not a hint of judgement in his voice.

“No,” I croak. “I need to be present for Wren.”

He hesitates, but nods. “Okay, then. Are you okay to go now?”

I nod, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Holden drops his hands from my face, and I feel the loss immediately, but I try to focus on Wren. He gets her situated in a wheelchair, telling her we’re going to go for a ride. She laughs, but there is none of the usual happiness on Holden’s face at the sound.

I follow him out of the room where Doctor Asshole is waiting, and the four of us make our way to the elevators. I want so badly to reach out and take Holden’s hand, to take comfort from him. To offer him comfort. Because if hedoeslove Wren, and I believe he does, this has to be killing him too. I want to take both of them away from here, back home, wrap them up in my arms, and never let go. I focus on the dark waves of Holden’s hair as we walk toward the oncology floor, my steps heavy and filled with reluctance.

Once we’re tucked away in a room, Holden steps out and comes back a few minutes later with a bunch of stuff that I have no hope of figuring out. But within the pile of things is a giant-ass needle. I lock my eyes on his face, taking in his stark beauty instead of the needle that I’m sure is going to be deep inside my daughter’s small body.

Time seems to pass in a blur. Everything is a little fuzzy. But I hold Wren’s hand as Holden whispers to her. There’s a sharp, pained cry from her. It makes me feel like the world’s shittiest parent, but I can’t even look at her. Instead, I hold her hand, pray to a God I don’t believe in, and keep staring at Holden. Which is how I noticed the tears welling up in his eyes when she cried out, how I notice he turns his head, looks away from her, tries to compose himself. Fails and tries again. I watch as he looks back at her when he finally has control of himself. Tells her in a choked-off, tear-filled voice that he’s so sorry. That everything will be okay. That he’s so sorry again.

I watch as he turns his head. I keep my eyes glued to him, taking in his expressions—the heavy bob of his throat, the quiverin his chin, the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard.

It’s over almost as quickly as it starts, and I look down at Wren. She’s staring up at Holden like she doesn’t quite understand what he just did to her. He’s talking to her softly, and she nods at him. Her tear-stained face breaks my heart and his too, if his reactions were anything to go by.

He locks his eyes on mine. He opens and closes his mouth, like he wants to speak but can’t. Doctor Asshole steps out of the room with the sample he just took from my daughter’s hip, and Holden almost breaks. I watch it happen. His eyes well up, his bottom lip shakes. But then he clenches his jaw, clears his throat, and stands up straight, putting on a brave face I know he doesn’t feel at all.

“I’ll get someone to take you back to your room,” he says, his voice even and restrained. “We’ll keep her for a bit to make sure she doesn’t have any bad reactions, and we’ll get her something for pain relief. Some soreness will be normal over the next few days, but if it doesn’t get better, bring her back in. They’ll want to make sure nothing else is going on. We should have prelim results within the next few days, but it could be up to two weeks.”

He’s fully in professional mode. I get it. I wish I had something I could hide behind, but I don’t. I need him. I need his strength. I honestly don’t even need that. I need him to cry with me. I need to hold him and let him hold me and share this awful fucking burden. I need to put down the weight for a second and have him help me carry it.

I need to tell him I love him.

He tears out of the room before I get a chance.

Chapter Twenty-One

Holden

The second I walk through the front door at home and lock eyes with Beck, I break. My knees give out and I collapse on the floor as an ugly sob rips its way out of my chest. He’s on his feet instantly, rushing around the couch to get to me. “What’s wrong, Hold?”

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