that had gotten used to me perpetually paying a month late.
“The trial will cover certain aspects, but not everything, and the only hospital in Colorado with the facilities to do this is Colorado Children’s.” She gave me a knowing look.
The cost was astronomical, and I had no way of covering it in cash. But I’d think about that later. “Submit the paperwork, and let’s get her in.”
“Okay. It needs to be soon.”
“Doesn’t everything?”
…
“Tell me about the MIBG,” Beckett asked seven hours later as we ate dinner in the small cafeteria. Maisie slept upstairs, her pressure hovering, her temp fevered.
She’d woken up once and asked to use the bathroom, which just about made me cry in relief. Her kidneys were still functioning.
I pushed the bland excuse for fried chicken to the side of my plate. Why was all hospital food bland? Because they needed it to be gentle on stomachs? Or maybe I was wrong, and it wasn’t, but I was too numb to really taste it.
Maybe all hospital food was really good, and we were just too preoccupied to ever notice.
“Ella,” Beckett said gently, pulling me from my thoughts. “The MIBG?”
“Right. It’s a relatively new treatment for neuroblastoma that attaches the chemo to the radiation that targets the tumor itself. It’s pretty amazing stuff, and they can do it in only eighteen hospitals across the country, one of which happens to be in Denver.”
“That’s incredible. The same hospital where Maisie had her surgery?”
“The same.” I poked at my mashed potatoes, dropping my jaw when Beckett shoved in forkful after forkful. “How do you eat that?”
“Spend a decade in the army. You’d be amazed at what sounds great for dinner.”
And there was some perspective that had me reaching for my fork.
“Any drawbacks to the MIBG?”
“The trial isn’t covered by my insurance.” And there it was, the entrance to the nightmare that was my finances.
“You’re kidding me.” He blinked a couple times, like he expected me to change my answer. “Tell me you’re kidding, Ella.”
“I’m not.” I took a bite of my chicken, knowing I needed the calories, no matter where they came from.
“So what do we do?” Two lines appeared right above his nose as he leaned forward.
“The same thing I’ve been doing. Figure it out. Pay for it.” I shrugged, pausing as I took another bite when I realized what he’d said. What do we do? We. Not you. We. I managed to swallow before I looked like an idiot with a chicken leg stuck in my face.
“What do you mean, the same thing you’ve been doing? How much haven’t they covered?” His tone was calm and even but a little frightening for the intensity.
I shrugged and reached for a roll.
“I’m trying really hard not to lose it, so if you’d answer, that would really help me out.”
I dragged my eyes from the roll, up his chest, to the vein bulging in his neck—yep, he was ticked—to his eyes. “A lot. They haven’t covered a lot.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
“Because it’s none of your business!”
He jerked back like I’d slapped him.
“Sorry, but it’s not.” I softened my tone as much as possible. “And what would I say? Hey, Beckett, did you know that I gambled my kids’ health last year? That my insurance plan doesn’t cover half of what Maisie needs? That I’ve blown through Ryan’s life insurance keeping my kid alive?”
“Yeah, you could start by saying that.” He raked his hand over his hair, clasping his hands at the top of his head. “Start by saying something. How much trouble are you in?”
“Some.”
We waged a silent war, each trying to stare down the other. A few heartbeats later, I gave in. He was the one trying to help, and I was just being stubborn for the sake of privacy that I didn’t really need.
“The hospital in Denver where she had her surgery is out of network. That means that anything done there, every time she sees Dr. Hughes there, or has surgery, or a treatment there, it’s not covered by my plan.”
“Is this? What’s happening now?”
“Yeah, this is fine. But the MIBG wouldn’t be. Or the stem cell transplant Dr. Hughes has already suggested.”
“So what are the options?”
“Financially?”
He nodded.
“I don’t qualify for government care, not with owning Solitude. I went through my savings the first month of her treatment, and her surgery wiped out the last of Ryan’s life insurance. I mortgaged Solitude to the hilt last year for the renovations, so that’s not an option, either. Even selling