Page 95 of Misery and Ecstasy

And then I get mad at myself for getting irritated.

I shake my head, not having the strength to answer him verbally. I don’t even look at him. Whenever I look into his eyes, I see nothing but pity and sadness in them. It reminds me how selfish of a person I’ve been.

Am I happy Olivia didn’t listen to me and told Draven the truth? Yes.

I didn’t realize how badly not having him around would affect me until the relief I felt upon seeing his face when he walked in here hit me.

Am I happy I’m putting him through the same pain and heartache I was just trying to rid him of? Of course not.

And I wish things were different. Very, very different. Not just for me but for him. For us.

“Draven, hi.”Dr. Reeves’s voice floats into my room from the hallway, and my stomach drops.

“Are the test results in?”I hear the fear in Draven’s tone that he works hard to hide when he’s around me.

I’ve also heard it in hushed whispers with Olivia when the two of them thought I was sleeping. I’ve heard it when he’s on the phone with Royce or Atticus or one of his other brothers.

“Yes, I was just coming to see you guys. Why don’t we go into the room and all talk at once?”

When the chatter ceases and I don’t hear any immediate footsteps, I imagine Draven standing toe-to-toe with the doctor, silently demanding for a sign of things to come. Some sign so that he can prepare his reaction. So I won’t be able to see his expression falter should the news not be in my favor.

I don’t know whether or not he gets it, but a moment later, the two of them file quietly into my room.

My chest feels like it’s housing a jackhammer instead of a heart.

I’ve never felt fear like I do the moment Draven sits down and grips my hand in his.

Not when my dad left.

Not when I thought my chances of finding love were over.

Not even when Draven approached me in the dark parking lot the first night we met.

“Hi, McKinsey. How are you feeling today?” Dr. Reeves inquires.

“I’m fine. Do you have my test results?” Read: Cut the shit, and get to the point.

“I do.” She clears her throat. “Your tissue tested positive for GBM or Glioblastoma multiforme. The markers we look for in the cells we test—GSC—were present.”

Sweat coats my palms, and the only sound I hear is that of my own breath and my blood thrumming through my ears. My eyes freeze on Dr. Reeves, who must realize I’ve gone catatonic because I don’t see her mouth moving any longer.

Finally, she breaks the eye contact as her gaze moves from mine over to Draven. I hear Draven’s voice, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. It’s like he’s muted and speaking in slow motion. My eyes find his, and the moment he squeezes my hand, my ears once again fill with the sound of steady beeping and the whirring of machines working around me.

“Someone from radiology will be up soon to take her for an MRI. Once we get the results of that, we will be able to determine whether or not surgery is a viable option. Do you have any questions?”

Draven looks at me to see if there is anything I want to ask before letting the doctor leave. I just lay here, barely able to blink, let alone ask any questions.

“Not at this time.” Draven answers for me.

“Okay. If either of you think of anything, just let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you when the results of the MRI come back.”

After she’s gone, I feel Draven’s eyes on me, but I can’t look at him.

I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t talk.

Fortunately, he doesn’t ask me any questions or try to start a conversation. He’s either as lost as I am or he’s giving me the time and space he knows I need to freak the fuck out.

Glioblastoma.

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