The Hearts We Break (The Alphaletes Book 3), page 21
Scarlett
It’s game day, and we are playing against the Denver Hawks. We’ve been doing good so far, the score is currently 21-17, and we are just about to wrap up the third quarter. I can’t help but be grateful the game is almost over because it is taking everything in me to keep it together. I’ve been fighting the flu over the last two days and as badly as I wanted to stay in bed this morning, I knew I had to show up, for the team and Slater.
My mouth waters for probably the thirtieth time today as my stomach twists. Oh my god how embarrassing would that be if I got sick right here on the sidelines in the middle of a game?
Don’t throw up, Scarlett. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.
Thankfully it passes just in time for me to watch as Slater leaps into the air, snagging the throw Smith sent him before he takes off running.
“Go, Slater! Run!” I shout, as if he could actually hear me.
His legs eat up the distance between him and the end zone, the entire stadium shouting and cheering as he gets closer and closer.
“He’s got this. He’s got it,” Collin says excitedly to my left.
Of course he does. I think it’s safe to say Slater Santos is officially back. Mentally and physically. People are talking about how his recovery was amazing. How he goes from having an injury that ends most careers to stepping back out onto that field and still hanging with the best of them. Hell, not hanging, beating the best of them.
The sidelines and home side of the stadium break out into celebration when his feet cross that line.
“Touchdownnnnn Crusaders!” the announcer booms.
Collin and I turn to each other, hugging quickly before clapping and cheering. When I spin to face the field though, something’s not right. A sharp pain suddenly comes from my stomach. It’s excruciating as it sears through me, the overwhelming pain immediately dropping me to my knees.
It’s not like a simple stomachache from the flu or even an air bubble in my rib cage. It’s a hot, sharp, stabbing pain that feels as if I’m being torn from the inside out. My knees curl up into my chest, hoping that if I compress myself, it’ll go away.
I hear people calling my name, even feel someone’s hand touch my shoulder to gain my attention. Unfortunately, I can’t give it to them, though. All I can do is squeeze my eyes tightly, hold onto my legs, and pray this stops soon.
A cold sweat drips down my spine, causing me to shiver as I squeeze myself tighter, the world around me becoming darker and quieter as the pain overcomes me.
Slater
As soon as my feet cross over that line, euphoria washes over me as the adrenaline in my veins practically buzzes to life. The crowd goes fucking crazy as I turn and begin doing my new signature touchdown dance. They seem to love it, even if they don’t know what it represents. I kinda love it that much more because of it. It’s something private, just between Scar and me.
Turning to face my girl, my smile drops when I don’t see her. It takes me two seconds to realize there is a huddle forming on the sidelines, more and more players gathering by the second. Something in my gut twists, telling me there is something wrong. I notice Seb is now over there before he rips off his helmet and makes eye contact with me. He gestures for me to come to him, and even though I’m too far away to really get a good look at his face, I can tell by his gesture alone that it isn’t good.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My feet carry me across the field faster than they did just seconds before. It doesn’t feel fast enough, though. When I finally get to the sidelines, I push my way through the practical barrier of Crusader players, not caring as I push, shove, and stomp my way through everyone.
I don’t know what I was expecting to see, but Scarlett curled up into the fetal position on the ground, sobbing was not it. Dropping to my knees instantly, I crawl to her, touching the side of her arm as I speak low.
“Bubbles, baby, what’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer, just whimpers in pain as more tears seem to roll down the side of her face. Panic surges through me as I look up to see a concerned Collin standing over her.
“Get the ambulance.”
He nods quickly as he pulls out his phone as he steps out of the crowd of people. I feel them coming closer, surrounding us, no doubt in concern for my girl, but right now, I can hardly think, and they are suffocating us.
“Back up!” I shout as I look around wildly. “Everyone back the fuck up!”
Looking back down to Scar, I brush her hair away from her face so that I can see her better. Her face is contorted into pain, eyes squeezed tight as if she was wishing she was anywhere but here. I want to pick her up into my arms and hold her, make it all go away, but I’m shit scared I’ll hurt her more.
“Baby, baby, baby,” I say softly. “You gotta tell me what’s wrong. What hurts?”
Her eyes blink open, just barely, but it’s enough to have my heart tripping over itself. I’m not sure if in relief or panic because the pure pain in her eyes is enough to knock the wind right out of me.
“S-stomach,” she stutters before letting out a cry of pain as she squeezes her eyes shut and curls deeper within herself.
“Appendix?” Seb guesses from my left.
I whip my head up and shake my head. “No. She got her appendix removed when she was fourteen.”
“Could be an ulcer,” Andrews chimes in.
What the fuck is he doing over here?
“Really? You think an ulcer would drop her to the fucking ground and make her practically incoherent? Fucking idiot,” I snarl with a shake of my head as I turn back to Scar.
I know I’m being a dick, even more so than I usually am to Andrews but be fucking for real. Scar is tough. Her pain tolerance is high so whatever is going on, it’s fucking bad.
The ambulance pulls up to the side entrance of the field before two paramedics come out with a gurney. The players surrounding us quickly make a hole for them as they come up to assess her.
“She said it was her stomach,” I tell them as they start carefully lifting her onto the gurney. “It isn’t her appendix, she had it removed when she was a kid. I didn’t see what happened,” I say as I turn to face Collin who shakes his head,
“I don’t know. One second she was fine and then the next she dropped.”
“She does have the flu, or something. She threw up this morning, but she said she felt fine besides that.”
The paramedics share a look before nodding and carting her off.
“Wait!” I say as I follow after them. “I’m coming with.”
“Santos! We have a game here,” Coach shouts after me.
The look I pin him with must be something fierce because he closes his mouth instantly and shakes his head, calling in my back-up before shooing the guys onto the field to continue on. Everyone does except for Seb who jogs after me.
“Going to Seattle Memorial?” he asks the paramedics.
They both nod as Seb turns to face me.
“As soon as the game is over, I’ll meet you there.”
I nod at that before following the paramedics into the ambulance. They begin taking Scar’s vitals as the ambulance starts moving. I take a seat next to her, reaching out to hold her hand. She clings to me instantly, her nails digging into my palms as sweat dots her forehead. My stomach is in knots as I lean my head down to press a kiss against her wrist. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I can honestly say I’ve never been so fucking scared in all my life.
Scarlett
When we got to the hospital, they gave me some pain meds before they started running tests. It took a while for them to fully kick in but thankfully the pain is tolerable now. I feel embarrassed. I can’t believe I fell apart like that, in front of an entire stadium of people. I’m choosing to focus on my embarrassment because something in my gut doesn’t like the way the doctors keep looking at me as they take me for scans and blood work.
Slater is holding my hand as we wait in the ER. He hasn’t let it go since we got into the ambulance and I’m overly thankful for it. The poor guy is still in his football gear, pads and all. I told him he could at least go take his pads off, but he refuses to move even a foot away from me.
Finally, the doctor comes back into the room along with my nurse. I give them both a tight smile, but it falls away as soon as I see the look on their faces. The nurse will hardly hold eye contact with me while the doctor looks like he’s uncomfortable in his own skin. Nerves begin swarming through me as a chill begins seeping into my skin. I tell myself it’s because the room is so cold, but I know it’s a lie.
Slater stands when they step inside, still not letting go of my hand as he does.
“What’s going on, Doc?” he asks. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”
He opens his mouth to speak before he pauses and turns to face me.
“Can we speak in private for a moment?”
“What? No,” Slater begins when I squeeze his hand to silence him.
“It’s fine. Whatever it is, I want him here.”
The doctor casts a look at Slater before nodding and looking at me.
“Based on your test results and scans, we were able to determine the cause of your stomach pains.”
He pauses for a moment as he wets his lips before looking at me sympathetically.
“I’m afraid it’s not good news. There’s no right way to tell yo-”
“Just tell me. Please,” I say, my voice shaking slightly as anxiety begins to fill me.
His blue eyes crinkle slightly as he looks at me sympathetically and speaks.
“You have ovarian cancer.”
The rest of his words become muffled. Like I’ve been dunked under water. Like I’m drowning, sinking lower and lower as the once bright room fades into darkness. My lungs burn, desperate for air despite the greedy breaths I’m beginning to gasp, but it’s no use. I can’t fucking breathe.
Cancer. Cancer. Cancer.
Worse.
Ovarian Cancer.
I need to react. I know I do, but I can’t. I can’t move, I can't blink. I can’t even think. I’m frozen in place, frozen in time.
I feel Slater release my hand, causing me to look at him as he stares wide eyed at the doctor, his mouth parted, face crumbling as he lifts his hands to his head and buries his fingers into his hair, pulling at the base as he shakes his head.
“No. No. You got the wrong scans. You aren’t reading things right. There has to be a mistake. You can’t be….she can’t be…” his voice cracks as he trails off, turning to face me.
His face blurs in front of me, making me realize that tears are streaming down my face as I look up to him.
“Baby,” he whispers brokenly before he closes the distance between us, wrapping his arms around me tightly.
His pads crush against me, but I welcome the pain. Slater has always been home to me, always been my comfort, but right now, I know even he can’t take this pain away. Like when my mom passed, the pain I feel is insurmountable, all consuming.
“Wait,” I say, my mouth muffled against Slater’s jersey.
Hesitantly, he pulls away enough for me to look at the doctor. He has a regretful look on his face as he watches me.
“What stage?”
“At this point, I wouldn’t feel comfortable saying stage two. So for now we are going to label it early stage three,” he says.
Stage three? Three? Just like…
“Like my mom?” I choke out, my voice shaking despite my best efforts.
“Your mother had ovarian cancer?” the doctor asks as the nurse begins writing something down on the tablet in her hands.
I nod. “She died fifteen years ago. S-stage three.”
His cheeks wince at that before he can help himself as he nods. “Do you know what being stage three means?”
“It means it’s in three places, right?” Slater asks.
“Correct. Right now we are seeing it in your fallopian tubes, lymph nodes, and your liver, though the majority of it is in your fallopian tubes-”
“I thought you just said she has ovarian cancer? Why is it in her fallopian tubes?”
“A lot of the times, it’s called ovarian cancer, but more often than not the tumors reside in the fallopian tubes,” the doctor explains.
I remember that when my mom was told the same. I didn’t get it then either. I was only thirteen at the time, but it didn’t make sense to me. It still doesn’t. Then again, nothing does.
“So what do we do? Where do we start?” Slater asks, what sounds like determination entering his voice.
“We will have one of our oncologists come down and set up a consultation with you, but I highly suggest you get on the books for surgery as soon as possible. Every day is important,” he urges.
“Surgery?” I ask hollowly.
His eyes crinkle again before he turns to the nurse before looking back at me.
“Maybe we should give you two sometime. We will send an oncologist to do your consultation before you’re discharged.”
“You’re discharging her already? What if she’s in pain again?” Slater asks.
“We will prescribe you something if the pain comes back, and the oncologist can go over more with you,” he says with a soft nod before stepping out of the room with the nurse on his heels.
When the solid door thunks shut, we sit in silence for several seconds before Slater speaks.
“Are you okay, baby?”
I look up at him as my lower lip begins to wobble. Fear like I’ve never truly felt takes over me.
“No.”
He wraps his arms around me, holding me tight as I cling to him desperately.
“Slate, I-I don’t want to die. I don’t want to end up like my m-mom,” I cry into him.
His hold on me tightens for several seconds before he pulls away, cupping my face with both hands as he forces me to look into his deep eyes.
“You won’t, do you hear me? You aren’t going to die. You won’t end up like your mom. We are going to take this one step at a time, together, and we are going to kick the shit out of this. Do you hear me? You’ve been unwaveringly by my side for twenty years, it’s my turn to be in your corner. I just got you, Scar, and I don’t intend to lose you.”
“S-swear?” I ask through the hot tears building in my eyes, tightening my throat by the second.
He lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes as he cups the back of my neck, pushing our foreheads together before he looks directly into my soul.
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Slater
I texted Scar’s dad off her phone when we were in the ambulance since I obviously didn’t have mine on me. I knew one text to Ross would have the cavalry coming, and when I checked Scar’s phone shortly after we were left alone in the room, I found dozens of messages from everyone in both our families.
Stepping out her door, I turn down the hall before coming out to the waiting room. Cancer. Scar has cancer? My mind is still reeling. I don’t understand. She can’t be sick. She’s been fine. A little nauseous here and there and maybe more tired than normally, but I didn’t think anything of it.
An image of her sick like my mom was, like her mom was, flashes into my mind, pausing me in my tracks. I feel my throat tighten as my eyes burn. Turning slowly, I face the wall in front of me, leaning my forehead against it as I feel my heart break into a million pieces right there on the hospital floor.
She can’t have cancer. Not my Bubbles. Not when I just got her.
The pain is debilitating and instant, starting in my chest and spreading to the tips of my fingers and toes. I know I have to be strong. I have to pull myself together. But it hurts so fucking much.
I feel tears running down my cheeks as I do my best to choke down my sobs. Taking a deep breath, I blow out a shaky one before pushing away from the wall. I straighten my shoulders to stand a little taller, wiping underneath my eyes as if that alone could hide the pain I’m in before I continue making my way to the waiting room.
When I finally get there, I see Ross pacing frantically, while Ezra and Aaron try to calm him down. My mother is sitting in a chair looking concerned while my father’s arm is around her. I also see Seb and Erica sitting in the chairs beside them.
Everyone looks so concerned. So scared. They don’t fucking have a clue how scared they should be, how scared I am. Ezra sees me first. He speeds past his dad and right for me.
“How is she? What did they say?” he fires off.
That gets the attention of everyone as they all stand and quickly surround me. Seven pairs of eyes watch me eagerly, desperate for any kind of news. But the words die on my tongue before I can even form them because I still can’t believe this is real. I don’t want to believe this is real. You can call it denial or desperation. I don’t give a shit. She can’t have cancer. Not my Bubbles. Not my Scar.
How long?
Two words that popped in my head the moment the doctor’s mouth opened.
How long has she been sick?
How long have I missed the signs?
How long does she have?
“Slater?” Aaron asks, the usually quiet eldest Hayes brother looking at me with concerned eyes.
“They…” I trail off before clearing my quickly tightening throat. I do my best to force back the burning tears but it’s so goddamn hard. “They said it’s cancer.”
Though the ER waiting room is normally a louder crazy environment, in this moment, you could hear a feather drop. Everyone around me instantly freezes, and I watch each and every heart break right before my eyes.
“What kind?” Ross strains.
When I look into his eyes, he already knows the answer. He shakes his head as he wrinkles his nose, looking up at the ceiling as he shoves my shoulder away.
“Don’t say that to me. Don’t fucking say that,” he says. “I want to talk to her doctor. Now,” he grits out before walking up to the receptionist’s desk, probably to go do exactly that.
“I’m going to check on him,” my mom says with tears already building in her eyes. She gives me a warm hug that I didn’t realize I needed until this moment before my dad does the same.
