For Now (Broken Promises #1) Page 4

  I love you. I always have, and just now decided to tell you… oh and I’ll be dead in a few months?

  By the time we make it to her car she’s still not talking to me, which tells me she’s pissed. There’s only been a few times in our friendship that she hasn’t talked to me. The first was the first time that I had her breakup with a girl for me… that was also the last time she did that for me.

  Now she’s gripping the steering wheel so tight that the scar on her left hand from when she cut herself last year is white as a ghost. Jesus, I know she’s mad, but in all honestly I just don’t have the energy to fight with her right now.

  “So…” I need to tell her I have an appointment tomorrow, that I need the morning off, but I really don’t want to discuss why right now. “I need the morning cleared.”

  “You shoot with Tommy tomorrow, Lane. Underwear ad for the billboard in New York. That’s a huge shoot.”

  Fuck.

  “I need to cancel. Reschedule… something…” I need out of this car. “Hey can you take me to Bray’s bar?” I just want to be numb for a while.

  “Um… sure…” Her voice is full of hurt and anger. Her eyes are full of unspoken questions, but I can’t right now. I just want to drink.

  Alone.

  “Want me to come in?” She looks hopeful, but I can’t. I can’t sit there with her and hash out the end of my life.

  Potential end of my life.

  “Oh.” Fuck. Here I go, breaking her again. “Um… nah. It’s fine. Thanks, Al… you’re the best.”

  Getting out of the car as fast as I can, I walk towards the door. I pray Braydon isn’t here and I can find a corner booth to drown my sorrows alone. I don’t look back as her car pulls away.

  I’m not used to having this complex of emotions. I can only imagine how much of a beast I’m going to be tomorrow after my appointment if I’m already this bad and I haven’t even been given the official news yet.

  Shit!

  How can something like this happen to me!? I have my whole life ahead of me… I should have never went to that fucking doctor. Fuck Braydon for making me.

  Jesus Christ.

  About four drinks in, Braydon’s face appears in my vision. It’s surrounded by blurred lights and music I wasn’t even aware was playing. I’ve been sitting here this whole time, staring blankly at the wood grain of this old table, wondering why something like this could happen to someone so young.

  I thought cancer only happened to old people.

  Okay that’s not true, but it shouldn’t happen to young people. It’s not fucking fair.

  “Yo,” Braydon grunts, sliding into the seat across the table from me.

  “What’re you doing here?” I murmur, tilting my bottle back to find it’s already empty. “You should get me another one of these, bro.”

  “You sure about that, dude? You’ve got a nice empty collection growing here. Lacy is starting to stare, and it’s only a Monday night.” Lacy… the leggy bartender that I slept with once and won’t get off my fucking back. I should have known better than to sleep with her, but she’s so fucking sexy when I’m drunk.

  I stare at Braydon, my longest friend in life, then glance at my collection of bottles. Shit… I haven’t even been here an hour.

  “Fuck,” I curse, then groan when I feel the pressure start to build in my head.

  Lately I’ve been getting more and more headaches, and now I wonder if it’s because I’m sicker than I thought.

  Shit.

  “You wanna talk about it?” Braydon’s concern is well placed as he’s the only one that knows about this whole situation. They said I needed someone to drive me home from the hospital after the biopsy. Since he was the reason I went to the doctor in the first place I figured he should be the one to help me out when needed.

  “Not really,” I say, closing my eyes and laying my head back on the booth. I just want to be left alone to be numb, but so far I can’t find that feeling with everything else swarming inside of me.

  “You hear back from them?” He’s talking in hushed tones because he knows better than to say those words out loud in public, but I know exactly what he’s talking about.

  “Yes,” I grind out, pissed that he’s making me talk about this.

  “And?” Even with my eyes closed I can feel his gaze boring into me.

  “Bray, I’d rather not talk about this here,” I whisper, opening my eyes to find his.

  “But you’re going to have to, dude. Eventually.”

  “I don’t even fucking know what the deal is, Bray!” My composure and secrecy snaps with his pushing comments. I know he means well, but he doesn’t even know the shitstorm of emotions coursing through my body right now.

  “What’d they tell you?” he asks, normal toned, but eyeing me and silently telling me I need to chill the fuck down before people catch on. “And you’re fucking lucky the music is loud, dude. You’re gonna be the one that outs it before you’re ready if you don’t watch it.”

  I sigh and curse, knowing just how important it is that I chill down.

  “They fucking wouldn’t tell me, Braydon. I have an appointment in the morning with them to discuss the findings,” I say, sighing and shaking my head. “Fuckers wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  He watches me, then takes a drink of his beer before turning his gaze to the stage where the band is starting their set. Silence. We sit there for what seems like an eternity, mulling over my words. He’s not a stupid man… he knows the probability of me having cancer just skyrocketed, but neither of us want to say the words out loud.

  “I’m taking you tomorrow,” he says. I try to speak up and tell him I don’t want him there but he puts his hand up and continues. “I’m taking you tomorrow, and if it comes down to you needing… treatment… I’m taking your fucking lame ass to those too.”

  “Braydon that’s not-”

  “Shut the fuck up and drink some water, Lane.” He grumbles something as he motions to Leslie that we’re in need of waters. “I’m not giving you an option on this. You’re my fucking brother…. End of conversation. Let’s get you sobered up and home. Tomorrow’s going to come faster than you’d like.” He leaves it at that and we spend the rest of the night cooling off and heading home. By the time I hit my bed, I’ve already ran through every possible scenario of what’s going to happen tomorrow. I’m not a fan of any of them.

  By seven in the morning, I’m definitely regretting the choice I made last night to get numb drunk. Not only did it make for one nasty ass hangover, but the pain in my back now hurts more than ever. You’d think I was a ninety year old man with how hard it is for me to move.

  “Fucking shit,” I grumble, stumbling out of my bedroom. Filling up the coffee pot, I stare at my phone screen that’s blowing up.

  Alexis.

  Shit, I was an ass to her last night.

  Sighing, I pick up the smart phone and read the messages she’s sent. I’m smiling as each one comes on to the screen.

  Al: You left your tablet in my car last night.

  Al: I’m going through and deleting the bimbo names. Hope you don’t care ;)

  Al: Hope you’re ok… and that you made it home safe.

  Al: Love you, ya asshole. I hope you’ll talk to me about whatever’s going on one day.

  Fuck. She’s too good to me. She should have been pissed about last night and the way I treated her, but instead she’s brushing it off and not nagging on me about what the phone call was about or why I had to cancel this morning. This is one of the many reasons I love her so much. Like... love love... none of this ‘I love you because you’re my best friend’ love. The type of love that you’re afraid to tell someone about because if they don’t feel the same way your entire world would be over… love. I’m Lane Sheridan… I’m not afraid of too many things… but this just terrifies me.

  “Hey, you ready?” Braydon’s standing in my doorway, keys in one hand and tablet in the other, ready for what’s possibly going to
be a long-ass fucking day. “Ooh, coffee.” He speeds into the kitchen with his already empty to-go cup. He refills his mug, doctoring it up to just the way he likes it. Creamy and sweet. Pouring my black coffee into my mug, we lock up and head out the door.

  Of course, being Lane Sheridan has its downfalls… like walking into a major hospital in the bright morning sunshine and trying to make sure people don’t notice you. Thankful for hats and sunglasses and an overly buoyant best friend. All eyes are on him and his rocker do and tattoos as opposed to the hunched over figure on his right that can’t walk correctly.

  Not by choice, but because pain won’t let me.

  “Right this way, Mr. Sheridan,” the nurse says smiling as she ushers me directly to the doctor’s office. “He’s waiting for you… don’t want to keep you waiting out there.” She smiles as if she’s trying to flirt, but I’m in no mood for that. I’m shaking from nerves and I think I’ve already ground down three or four of my molars this morning.

  Let’s just get this over with.

  “You want me to come in with you?” Braydon asks from behind me as I start into the office.

  Do I? I don’t even want to be in there myself… but do I want him in there with me when I hear this news?

  Yes. I do.

  “I need you in here, man,” I sigh, hating that I look so weak right now.

  He nods and follows me in, closing the door behind him as the doctor stands to greet us.

  “Lane, nice to see you this morning,” Dr. Stanley announces, watching Braydon. “I’m Dr. Stanley,” he says, reaching his hand out for my best friend.

  Braydon takes it and courteously shakes it, introducing himself as I slouch down in the chair. The minute my ass hits the seat I get a roaring pain in my side that makes me curl into myself.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, pushing my hand into my side where the pain is radiating. With my eyes shut tight, I try to focus on my breathing as the pain from the attack flows through me. Every nerve ending is on fire, I feel like I could cry right now it hurts that fucking bad. I open my eyes to my best friend watching me like he’s a nine year old boy who just lost his puppy and a very worried doctor staring at me.

  Maybe bringing Braydon in here with me was a bad idea. I can deal with my emotions…. I think… I can’t deal with his too.

  “How often are those happening, Lane?” The doctor sits on the edge of his desk while Braydon sits in the chair next to me. If it were Al next to me she would have her reassuring hand on my arm and things would automatically start to feel better.

  Fuck, when she climbed into my lap in her car the other day I never wanted to let her go. Just her touch calms my entire body. It’s fucking insane the addiction I have to her, and she has no fucking clue.

  “Lane?” Braydon’s voice cuts through my thoughts and I remember the question the doctor asked me.

  “A lot,” I grunt. “They’ve been happening more and more these last few days.”

  He sighs and stands, walking behind his desk and grabbing my chart. Flipping on a lightbox on the wall next to me, he slides out a scan and clears his throat.

  “This here is a scan of your abdomen. The one we took last week when your pains started to flare up. The one that had you referred to me by your general practitioner.”

  I nod and Braydon leans his elbows on his knees and his head rests on his hands, listening intently. Maybe having him here really is a good thing. He can definitely retain a lot, and from the looks of my mood today I’m not going to remember a lot of this. I can’t seem to focus on what he’s saying to me right now, and once he starts in on details my mind starts to blur. The doctor starts talking a thousand miles a minute, but my brain only picks out the important things.

  Pancreatic Cancer

  Late State

  More tests

  More blood

  Chemo

  Radiation

  Holy. Fuck.

  “So we need to get you set up for the PET scan and bone biopsy, Lane. Do you have your schedule available?” Schedule? No. Alexis keeps all that shit for me. She’s my fucking rock and here I am, getting the worst news I could ever have received, and she’s not even here with me.

  His eyes flick to Braydon when I don’t answer.

  How the fuck?

  What the hell?

  “Uh,” Braydon checks his phone and clears his throat. “Yea, hang on one second,” he mumbles, leaving the room.

  “How long do I have?” I manage, the ball in my throat threatening to spill over and tears threatening to spill. Jesus Christ, I can’t have cancer.

  I can’t die.

  “There’s not really any telling until we do further tests, Lane,” he answers. Sitting in the chair next to me, he slides his glasses to the top of his head and sighs. “I know this sucks, and it’s not professional at all for me to tell you this, but I fucking hate cancer. I’d be ok if there was never another case of it… ever… even though that means I’d be out of a job. It takes what it wants when it wants. Whether it’s a ten year old girl, a twenty year old, or a ninety year old who’s lived a full life. It doesn’t care and it’s not fair.” He clears his throat. “It fucking sucks…”

  I chuckle… honestly laugh because what the hell type of doctor is this? Doctors aren’t supposed to cuss or throw it at you straight. They aren’t supposed to be this… personal. Right?

  “Hey, I uh… I have his schedule,” Braydon announces as he makes his way back into the room. I narrow my eyes at him, knowing full well how he got it and what he had to tell her. Shit. I feel like such an ass for not letting her in on this.

  “The only pressing thing he has is Friday night, everything else can be rescheduled or canceled.”

  “Good. We need to move fast, I’ll clear some slots today for you and hopefully tomorrow or the next day we can start treatment.”

  “Sounds good,” I hear Bray answer as those words float around my head.

  Treatment

  More tests

  Less work

  Low quality of life.

  I’ve seen people going through treatments. I can’t be like that.

  “No,” I whisper. Fuck no, I can’t do this. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Shooting out of my chair, I start pacing the office, feeling all the anxiety, depression, anger, rage, and sadness flowing from my pores. “I can’t fucking do this!” I’m not even thirty years old! I’ve barely lived. I’ve never told the woman I love that I love her, and from the looks of it I’m never going to have a family or any of that shit! “I’m sorry… I… I have to go,” I murmur, opening the door and not looking back.

  Alexis

  “Shit” I mutter, reading the text from Braydon.

  He’s on the move.

  Shit.

  “Hey Bray,” I answer when the call comes through. I’ve been a nervous wreck all morning… ever since Braydon called me last night, really.

  ----

  “He’s not doing ok, Al.” His concern courses through my veins, making me anxious and sad that Lane isn’t letting me in.

  “What can I do?” I whisper fragilely.

  “Just be there for him. He’s not good at sharing shit and only told me because I’ve been with him from step one.”

  “I wish he’d just open up to me,” I mumble.

  “He will… just give him time. He’s always been… protective… of you, Al.”

  “I know.”

  “Listen, he’s coming back to the table. I’ll text you the details about tomorrow.”

  ---

  So here I sit. Inside my car, in a dark parking garage, with eyes on Braydon’s car.

  Of course I would be here. I couldn’t sit at home and pace the living room while these two try to tackle this alone. I really want to be inside, but Braydon wasn’t having it. He’s been texting me all morning and from the sounds of it, Lane’s a hot mess. Braydon won’t tell me anything the doctor said, but when he called for Lane’s schedule I could tell it’s not good.

 
“Listen, he’s only got one way home and that’s me. He just walked out of the office, refusing treatment. I really think he’s lost it,” he huffs.

  “Are you running?” I ask, sitting up straighter in my car, trying to see if I can see Lane in the garage at all. Nothing yet. “What do you mean he just left?” I ask, getting out of my car to walk over to Braydon’s. “He just left.. like.. walked out?”

  Treatment? He refused? Why would he do that?

  “He’s in shock, Al. Just.. don’t let him do anything stupid. I’ll be right there.”

  Looking around, I see a figure come out from the stairway and sigh in relief. “Shit, Bray, he’s here. I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Lane!” I yell as he starts to pace back and forth in front of the stairs. He pauses and looks around, unable to tell where the voice came from. “Hey jerk!” His head whips around and his eyes hit mine.

  I want to run and hold onto him, but I don’t. I don’t because I’m kind of pissed he’s held all this away from me this whole time. That’s a lot of shit to go through without telling your best friend. I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m hurt, and I’m worried.

  So worried.

  What if I lose my best friend before I ever get the chance to tell him I love him?

  “What are you doing here?” he says, walking towards me. Hands in his pockets, worried sad eyes watching me.

  “Braydon,” I whisper before the knot in my throat stops me. The small whimper that comes out of me is enough to break the stance he was holding. His shoulders droop and he moves fast just to get to me.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, then wraps his arms around me as I completely melt into him. I can’t lose him… I don’t even have him and I’m going to lose him. His arms tighten around me as he lifts me and buries his face in my neck, squeezing my body to his. I never want to let go, I never want to not touch him again.

  I never want him to be out of my sight again.

  But I know that’s not possible.

  “Shit, Al.” He takes a breath. A breath that makes me feel like he’s giving up, than backs his head out of my neck to look at me. His eyes connect with mine and all I can think of is kissing the sadness away. I’ve never kissed him. We’ve never been this close, but right now in this embrace I feel the pull. He licks his lips, his eyes flicking to my lips then back to my eyes. It feels like he’s about to do it… like he’s about to finally make that connection I’ve been dying for for years.