about him. Was it because I hadn’t asked? Because I was so consumed with Maisie? With Colt? Because I secretly didn’t want to know?
“Sometimes I think I don’t really know you,” I said softly.
A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry half smile. “You might not know much about my past, but trust me, you know me, and that’s more important.”
Before I could question him any further, the door opened, and Dr. Hughes stepped in. She had on jeans and a blouse with her standard white coat.
“Hey, Ella.”
“Dr. Hughes.” Her name came out as the rush of relief it was.
“How’s it going?” She picked up the chart at the end of the bed.
“We’re waiting for the meds to work, or not work.” For Maisie’s organs to shut down or not. For her to live or die.
“Ah, and you wait so well,” she said with raised eyebrows.
“Guilty,” I answered.
She looked at Beckett and then our connected hands.
“Ah, this is Beckett Gentry,” I said, slipping my hand free and patting his shoulder. Lame. “He’s…” Holy shit, what was he? How did I introduce him? He wasn’t my boyfriend. The guy wouldn’t even kiss me, even though he was pretty much around twenty-four seven.
“I’m her late brother’s best friend,” he explained as he stood, offering his hand. “I understand you’re Maisie’s neuroblastoma specialist. She loves you.”
Dr. Hughes shook his hand and smiled. “Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that. Maisie is a favorite of mine. And I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Gentry. Ella has definitely needed some support. I’m glad to see she’s getting it.”
“I’ll be here as long as she needs me.” He answered the question she didn’t ask, and her eyes went soft.
Another one bites the dust.
Then we got down to business. She asked a few questions and checked Maisie’s chart for the latest labs, her brows knitting together at times as she read everything over. She listened to her breathing, checked out her IVs, and watched her pressure.
“How worried do I need to be?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t bullshit me.
Her sigh was deep, and she flipped through the chart again. “I don’t know, and I can’t say until we see how she reacts to the meds. I can tell you that she’s way better off than she would have been in a few hours. You saved her life.”
“Colt did,” I said softly.
“Those two.” She lightly chuckled. “One soul split between two bodies.”
“He said he’d heard her crying in his dream,” Beckett said. “He woke up and went into her room and found her burning up.”
My head snapped toward his, wondering when Colt had— While you were in the truck. When he’d talked to Colt on the porch. The gratitude I felt toward Beckett for his connection with Colt was tempered a little with jealousy that he knew my son in a way I didn’t.
Because Beckett was around more than I was.
“What’s next?” I asked, needing to look past this.
“It will take a few hours, but once we’re certain the meds work—”
“Not with this. With the treatments. Looking forward and all that.” I didn’t want to think about what I couldn’t control. I wanted to focus on what I could. What to research next, to prepare her for. That, I could handle.
Dr. Hughes nodded, like she understood, and then sat in the last empty chair in the room, leaning forward on the small table. “We were supposed to meet next week,” she said.
“Right.”
“You sure you want to do this now?”
I glanced at my little girl fighting a battle I couldn’t pick up a sword for, and instead chose another front. “I am.”
“That last round of chemo didn’t move her levels like we were hoping.”
Having the tumor gone was all well and good, but if her bone marrow was still overwhelmingly cancerous, another one would grow. We’d cut off the top of the tree, but the roots were still alive and fighting.
“Is she developing a resistance to the chemo?”
Beckett’s hand found mine again, and I gripped. Hard.
“It’s a possibility. We’d discussed the MIBG treatment, and I think it’s our best bet.” She leaned down and pulled a pamphlet out of her purse, putting it on the table. “I got you some information on a trial.” She looked over at Beckett, and I knew exactly why.
“You can talk about it in front of him. It’s fine.” Up until now, the only people who knew what my finances looked like were Ada and Dr. Hughes. And probably the cell phone company