Page 185 of Halo

I sit beside her on the edge of the tub while she answers and puts the call on speaker.

Her doctor doesn’t waste much time before explaining that the final pathology is back. The cancer was confirmed in the remaining ovary, exactly as they feared, but the bowel specimens were negative for malignancy. The extensive damage they found there came from adhesions consistent with her endometriosis and previous surgeries, not metastatic disease.

Leah’s fingers tighten around mine.

“Wait.” Her voice trembles. “I just want to make sure I understand. The cancer was only in my ovary? It wasn’t in my bowel?”

“That’s correct. There was significant bowel involvement from the adhesions, which is why the operative findings were so concerning, but pathology found no evidence of malignancy in the bowel specimens.”

Leah covers her mouth.

Her doctor continues, explaining that she still recommends chemotherapy because this is a recurrence and they want to reduce the risk of microscopic disease remaining elsewhere. They’ll go over the treatment plan at her oncology appointment once she’s recovered a little more from surgery.

Leah manages to thank her before ending the call.

Then she just sits there.

I don’t say anything because there isn’t anything useful enough to fill the silence.

Her phone slips into her lap.

“It wasn’t in my bowel,” she whispers.

“No.”

Her face crumples.

I barely get my arms open before she folds into me, crying so hard her whole body shakes. I hold her carefully against my chest, and somewhere between feeling her tears soak through my shirt and realizing how differently that phone call could have gone, mine start falling too.

She still has cancer.

Chemo is still coming.

We’re nowhere near done fighting.

But for the first time since they opened her up, the future doesn’t feel like it’s disappearing beneath our feet.

I press my lips against her hair and hold her tighter.

“We can do this.”

She nods against my chest.

And for the first time, I think maybe we really can.

Chapter 47

Leah

By the time Nick and Grady come through the front door, I’ve already had to turn the burner off twice.

The first time was because my legs started shaking. The second was because a wave of nausea hit hard enough that I barely made it to the sink before I threw up.

Still, I turn the burner back on.

I want to make pancakes.

It’s stupid, maybe, but tomorrow is my second round of chemo, and tonight I want to do something normal. I want to stand in our kitchen and make dinner while the people I love come home to me.