Page 64 of Toxic Hope
This was a mistake. All of it. Every minute I’ve spent wondering about her, worrying, looking forward to seeing her again. It was all wasted. And I feel that waste with every stepI take to the truck, with my fists swinging at my sides and nowhere to vent the ugly, seething rage building in my gut.
“She’s not worth the time,” I decide as I get behind the wheel.
I only wish I meant it.
27
PRESTON
The following Thursday, during volunteering, I can sense my brother’s frustration. It’s a very familiar feeling because we both know Emma is here today. She should be sitting down in her treatment chair right about now and instead of sitting with her, we are folding thin white towels two stories down.
“Let’s just go and check on her,” Easton blurts out what I was too unsure to bring up.
“I think we should too,” I agree. “If she doesn’t want us there, we’ll leave.”
Easton nods and throws his half-folded towel back into the basket. “Let’s go.”
We leave the laundry room and make our way to the oncology department at a swift pace. We’ll probably get in trouble for just leaving, but I can’t bring myself to care at this moment. All I care about is seeing her, making sure she is okay.
With each step closer to the treatment room, excitement about seeing her and worry about how she is going to react fills me. My heart beats rapidly when I push open the door and scan the space. My eyes land on the chair she usually sits on, but she isn’t there. I look around the rest of the room, checking everywhere for her.
“She is not here.” Easton points out what I just concluded myself.
“Where the fuck is she and why isn’t she here?” I turn to my twin, who doesn’t have any of the answers either.
Easton shrugs. “I have no idea why she would skip treatment, but we can’t let her do that. We need to find her.”
I nod, and we both turn and walk back the way we just came. Without another word, we walk out to the truck. I get behind the wheel while Easton gets into the passenger seat. I drive straight to Emma’s house and park in the driveway.
“She is going to fight us being here,” Easton voices his opinion before I open the door.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t care what she thinks at this point. She is going to treatment, and that’s it. She is not giving up or whatever she thinks she is doing.” Even thinking about her giving up enrages me.
“You don’t have to tell me. We’re on the same page here,” Easton agrees.
We both get out of the truck and make our way to the front door. I knock, and Easton rings the doorbell. When nothing happens after a few seconds, I knock again… and again.
The door finally swings open, revealing Emma on the other side. A weight I didn’t even know was there, is lifted off my chest when I take her in. She is wearing her pajamas and fluffy socks, looking adorable as fuck.
“What do you want?” she snaps.
“Why are you skipping your treatment?” Easton asks before I can make my mouth work.
“What is it to you what I do or don’t do?” She throws back at him.
“This is not the time to be a smartass, pearls,” I say, but it comes more out as a threat. Maybe it should be just that. If that is what it takes.
She folds her arms in front of her chest defensively. “I’m not being a smartass. I’m simply telling you that it’s none of your business if I go to my treatment or not.”
“Damnit, Emma.” I’m so fucking frustrated with her, I want to grab and shake some sense into her. Instead of putting my hands on her, I push past her into the house. “Where is your grandma? I’m sure she is not happy with you, either.”
“She isn’t home, and she knows I’m here,” Emma says, but I don’t believe her. Not the part about Lois knowing.
Easton pushes past Emma into the hallway. “Close the door, pearls. We’re not leaving until you talk to us.”
“There is nothing to talk about.” Emma stands her ground, not moving to close the door. She is definitely giving us the cold shoulder. She is barely even looking us in the eyes.
The more she tries to brush us off, the more annoyed I’m getting, to the point where anger creeps up on me. I don’t want to be angry with her, but she is making it really fucking hard not to be.
