Page 166 of Halo

Her face crumples into the sweetest, saddest smile. “Yeah.” Another tear slips down her cheek. “I love you, too, Nick.”

I rise to my feet. Cupping her face, I press a kiss to her lips.. She laughs against my mouth, and the heavenly sound nearly undoes me. I never want to stop.

Her hands settle against my chest.

And she gently pushes me back.

That’s when I see the cohesive bandage wrapped around her elbow, a special tape we use on patients after blood draws and an IV removals.

My stomach drops.

My thumb brushes the edge of it. “What happened?”

Her eyes close. “Nick, I … I don’t know how to tell you this.”

I slowly nod. “That’s okay. Just … just tell me … when you're ready. I'm right here. I promise—I’m not going anywhere.”

She opens her eyes and looks at me, panic draining the color of her skin.

“Nick …” My name is barely audible. She presses a trembling hand to her mouth, fighting to get the words out. “They think my cancer’s back.”

Chapter 42

Nick

Cancer was always a possibility for Leah. After already losing one ovary to cancer, the possibility of recurrence had always been there, with her endometriosis giving us one more reason to stay vigilant.

She was only a few months shy of celebrating five years NED—five years with no evidence of disease. It was a milestone we’d been looking forward to.

Imaging found a suspicious mass on her remaining ovary with possible involvement of the uterus. Given her history and the appearance on the scans, her gynecologic oncologist didn’t want to wait. They still can’t say definitively that it’s malignant; pathology gets the final word.

So today, less than a week after her CT scan, they’re removing her uterus, remaining ovary and fallopian tube, then sending everything to pathology.

We always knew this was a possibility.

I just wish knowing made it less terrifying.

“You're pacing again,” she murmurs.

“Just stretching my legs.”

Grady looks up from his coloring book. “What’s pacing?”

Leah continues shading in a triceratops with a bubble gum pink crayon. “Sometimes when we’re nervous, our bodies don’t know what to do with those big feelings. Like when your tummy gets butterflies or your head gets fuzzy and you want to hide somewhere quiet. Some people walk back and forth instead. That’s called pacing.”

“Oh … yeah, Dad’s pacing.”

Leah presses her lips together, sheepishly glancing up at me.

I playfully narrow my eyes.

“Sounds like someone is ready to head to school with their Aunt Tate.” Tatum pulls open the curtain, a bag of donut holes in hand with a fresh cup of coffee and a carton of milk.

“Aunt Tate!” Grady abandons his crayons and jumps to his feet.

She sets everything down just in time to squat and catch him when he barrels into her open arms. “There’s my guy.” She squeezes him tight before pulling back and holding up the bag. “Look what I gotcha.”

His eyes light up, his hands fluttering beside his cheeks as he bounces on his toes. “Donut holes?”