Page 116 of Love Marks

If they can’t stop it from spreading further…I can’t think about that.

Joe and I have been taking shifts here. Earlier, I spent three hours on the phone with Sheila, explaining everything to her. She wanted to get on a plane and come back here, but I insisted she stay right where she is. As much as I’d love to see her, my mom isn’t in any shape to see people. She spends most of her time sleeping.

She’s supposed to be released in a few days, according to Dr. Brooks. Dr. Emmanuel is going to take over her case again and they’re going to increase her chemo treatments. I’m terrified. Every minute of my life since Saturday night has been clouded by fear, its awful grips digging deep into my heart.

My mom stirs, waking a little. She blinks up at me and tries a soft smile. “Hey,” she croaks out and I reach for her cup of water, bringing it to her lips for her to sip. “Thanks.”

“How you feeling?” I ask.

She sits up. “Still exhausted. You’d think I’ve slept enough by now,” she jokes, jostling me.

She’s been trying to get me to smile since she woke up. I’ve been trying, really. For her sake, I’ve pretended to be positive, agreeing with her that everything is going to be fine. In reality, I feel devastated. Hopeless. Like I’ve lost Wesley and I’m slowly losing her too.

“Where’s Joe?” She asks.

“He went home to sleep for a bit. I just talked to Sheila. She says get well soon or she’ll kick your ass. Her words.”

My mom chuckles and then coughs a few times. It’s not a good sound. It sends another icy chill down my body. The door to my mom’s room opens and I expect to see Dr. Brooks or the nurse coming in to check in on my mom.

Instead, my heart drops and a sudden heat rushes through me. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff with no safety net.

“Wesley,” my mom croaks and smiles at the sight of him.

I can’t believe he came here. After I explicitly told him to leave me alone, he comes to my mom’s hospital bed? His eyes flicker towards me briefly, a flash of pain behind his eyes, but he recovers quickly and moves towards my mom.

“Ms. Taylor. I was so sorry to hear that you were in the hospital.” He presents her with a bouquet of beautiful flowers that he sets on the table with the others from Joe and Hannah. “How are you?”

She shrugs. “I’ve been better. Quinn’s been taking good care of me, though.” I can feel him looking at me, but I refuse to meet his eyes. Can’t. Instead, I keep focused on my mom, smiling tightly, hoping she can’t tell how tense I am.

“Haven’t seen you around here as much as I was expecting,” my mom says, a hint of accusation in her voice. It’s more meant for me than him and I suppress the desire to roll my eyes.

“Yeah, well…” Wes mutters, trailing off.

It’s so awkward. So quiet. I hate him for coming here. I haven’t said anything to my mom about my break-up with Wesley. She’s got enough going on without worrying about my relationship status. But the tension in here is thick enough to cut with a knife and my mom isn’t stupid.

I finally force myself to look at his face. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” I say, moving towards the exit. “Now.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, lingering for a moment. “I hope you get well soon, Ms. Taylor. Please let me know if you need anything at all.”

I try to hide my grumble as I leave, not waiting for Wesley to follow me, but he does, and closes the door behind us. He stares down at me, his gaze as intense as ever. I can’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

“It was nice of you to bring flowers, but you need to go,” I say, willing my voice to sound firm and not as unsteady as I feel.

He shakes his head. “Not until you’ve heard me out. Can we go somewhere more private?” He glances around the busy hallway, at the doctors and nurses and other visitors passing us.

I want to object, but I want this conversation over and done with so I can get back to my mom, so I nod. We walk outside, towards the empty smoker’s area of the hospital. We stand a few feet from each other, awkwardness in the air.

I stare at the wall. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. Say whatever it is you have to say.”

“Will you at least look at me?” He says with a small bite to his tone.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I can do this. I won’t cry. I won’t cry. I won’t cry. With another deep breath, I open my eyes and look at him. Really look at him.

He looks tired. Exhausted, actually. There’s a red rim around his eyes and the bags beneath them are more pronounced than usual. Worst of all, there’s sadness plain in his eyes now. I blink, trying to focus.

“Are you going to say something or what?”

He clears his throat. “Right.” He takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing. “First off, the folder—”