Page 28 of My Sweetest Obsession
Come to Doctor Christian’s office. Now. It’s important.
What’s wrong?
I’m okay. Just please come.
I’m on my way, but please tell me what’s happening.
Are you all right?
Yes. I’ll see you soon.
What’s happening?
Despite her reassurances, panic seizes my lungs, making each breath harder as I push myself to climb even faster.
It’s the last place I ever wanted to set foot again, and just pulling up and parking outside the familiar building was enough to make my chest tighten painfully.
This place holds that memory.
Of hearing the word “lump” and knowing Mom might not be okay.
I thought I would never be back here once Mom rang that bell and was officially cancer free. That was over fifteen years ago, yet that same fear and crushing anxiety threaten to suffocate me the higher I climb.
Her cancer might be back…
Why else would she be here?
Why would she need me to come?
Nothing about this situation or the vagueness of her message gives me any confidence that I shouldn’t be considering worst-case scenarios.
And given the state of mind I was in when she texted, it’s far too easy to go there. Especially when she isn’t responding to me.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I reach the top floor and yank open the door with a trembling hand.
Get your shit under control…
The last thing Mom needs is me arriving in a panic if she’s already upset about some bad news. And if this were something good, she wouldn’t be so fucking cryptic.
My stomach roils at that thought as I race down the corridor toward Doctor Christian’s office at the far end, skidding to a stop on the linoleum outside the door with his name on it.
Calm the fuck down.
My heart and lungs don’t want to get on board with that idea—both struggling to find a normal pattern. Darkness ekes into the edges of my vision, and I squeeze my eyes closed momentarily, praying to find the strength to face whatever waits for me inside when it already feels like I might collapse from the anticipation of it.
I’ve never been particularly good at controlling my emotions…
And young kids can be cruel.
Which meant I learned to shut down and keep it in. To only release those feelings on the page or canvas, where I would be safe from ridicule. But since Drew’s death, this turbulent tangle of feelings has overwhelmed me so completely that there hasn’t been any hope of getting myself under any semblance of control.
But I have to.
For Mom.
I take several deep breaths until the shaking in my body seems to abate somewhat before I open my eyes again, pull open the door, and step into the waiting room.
The young woman behind the desk looks up, lips twisting into a welcoming smile before her gaze travels fully over me and shutters slightly at my appearance. “Can I help you, sir?”
