Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) (203 page)

“What did she say?” James whispers.

“Summer tried to kill herself.” I can’t believe the words. “She crashed and caused two serious injuries.”

James sucks in a breath. “No.”

“Yeah,” I murmur against him. I’m shaking. “I can’t believe it, James.”

“How do they know she tried to kill herself?” he asks.

“She left me a note.”

“Did you see it?”

“The cops have it. No.”

“Hmm,” James intones. “This is… fucked up, Celeste.”

“I know,” I say. Then I curse and push away. “Shit! Shit, shit, my scans…!”

“I already spoke to the staff,” James says. “They rescheduled you an hour later. You have time.”

I sag into him. “Thank you,” I murmur. “Thank you… for everything James.”

He rubs my back. “Only for you,” he tells me softly. “Only for you.”

26.

My nerves are absolutely wracked as I go in for my scans. I’m so worried about Summer. I hope desperately that she pulls through.
I’m
the one who is supposed to have her life on the line.

Not her.

The irony is not lost on me, either. I’m the one who always spoke of being run over by a bus. And now my best friend is fighting for her life because of a car crash?

It’s too much to handle.

After the scans are complete, I wait for the doctor alongside James. We hold hands but don’t speak. My thoughts are with Summer. His are probably with me.

We make a fine circle, the three of us.

The door starts to open. I perk up. But instead of Dr. Robinson, it’s a nurse. “Are you Celeste Adams?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“Summer’s just been released from the ICU. She’s asleep, but you’ll be able to see her after you’re done.”

I stand up instantly. “I want to see her now,”

James takes my hand. “We need your results first,” he says gently.

“Fuck my results!” I spit. “We already know what they’re going to be—“

“No,” James growls. “We don’t.”

“Ugh!” I give an exasperated grunt. “Yes we do, James.
I
know what’s going on, even if you want to deny it. But Summer—“

“Is asleep,” James gently interrupts. “If you see her now or after, it makes no difference.”

“It does to
me
.”

“And knowing about your future does to me,” James says. He tugs me back. “Sit
down
, Celeste. We’ll both see Summer after.”

“She needs me,” I begin.

James grunts, “No.”

“She’s in room 306, whenever you decide to go,” the nurse tells us. “Oh. The doctor’s coming down the hall now.”

“See?” James says. “You’ll wait.”

“Fine,” I mutter. “Fine, fine, fine.” I sit down and cross my arms. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“Don’t pout. It’s unbecoming.”

I snort.

A few seconds later, Dr. Robinson walks through the door. “Celeste,” he greets me. He notices James. “Professor Landon,” he nods.

“You two know each other?” I ask. Then I remember, James spoke to him about me before.

“I keep up with goings on at the university,” Dr. Robinson says. “I know a few certain distinguished faculty members.”

James smiles. “Thank you,” he says.

Dr. Robinson settles behind his desk. “Okay,” he looks at me. “You’ve just had your scans done, hmm? Let’s pull up the results and see what we’re dealing with.”

James’s hand tightens on mine as the doctor looks through his computer.

“Ah,” he says. “Here we are.” He turns the screen toward us. I see my skull outlined in black and white. “This is your most recent scan,” he says. “Now, this is the very first one you had here.”

He overlays one over the other.

I look at the computer screen. The area highlighted on my brain doesn’t seem any bigger.

“It looks the same,” I say. I give an uneasy laugh. “It’s not gotten worse. That’s good, isn’t it?”

The doctor looks seriously at me. “It’s… not what I expected, Celeste.”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

“When we increased your chemo protocol, the tumor was the same size. And now… it’s still the same size.”

“So that means chemo isn’t working?”

“It’s keeping the cancer at bay.” He pulls up my full-body scans and does some quick image-processing to them that changes the colors. “But… hmm. I’m not sure for how much longer.”

My heart seizes up. “What?” I ask. “Why not? What do you mean?”

“See these areas?” he circles my lymph nodes, my lungs. “They are the first places the cancer might spread. It hasn’t happened yet, but if it does, it can occur very quickly.”

He takes a deep breath. “At this point, I would have expected remission. It could have been slight, it had the chance to be major, but right now, we’re looking at… nothing. No change. The tumor’s resistant.”

“So now what?” I ask. “Do we just stay the course? What about the other symptoms I experienced? Those were new.”

“Yes, and they worry me.” He tents his fingers together. “We’re at a little bit of a crossroads right now, Celeste.”

“How so?”

“Well, we can continue the course. Keep giving you the chemotherapy treatment and hope there is improvement. But if it hasn’t happened yet, the odds of that changing in the future are low.”

“And what’s the other choice?” I ask.

“Surgery,” he says. “We can operate and try to extract the tumor.”

“Is that possible?” I ask. “I mean, it’s in… in my head.” I glance at James. “I don’t know if I like the idea of that.”

“By letting it remain we risk the cancer spreading.”

“But with regular check-ups we can keep an eye on it, can’t we?” I ask. “We don’t have to operate. I can continue the chemotherapy, you can keep monitoring me, nothing has to change. Right?” I’m speaking very quickly. My voice has taken on a nervous inflection. “We can stay with the program. Everything will be stable. Right?”

“Celeste,” James says my name softly. “Chemotherapy is making you sick.” He touches my hand. “You’re body’s fighting the drugs as much as it is the cancer. Isn’t that right, doctor?”

Dr. Robinson nods. “Yes. The doses you’re on are very disruptive to your body’s homeostasis. They’re putting you under a lot of stress. In my opinion?” He leans forward. “I would advise you to go for surgery. We can remove the tumor and greatly increase your odds of survival.”

I give a nervous giggle that comes out more like a cough. “But we don’t have to operate yet, do we?”

“No,” the doctor admits. “Everything we do is up to you. You have the final say on things.”

“Then let’s wait,” I burst out.

James’ head whips to me. “What?”

“Wait,” I tell him. I look at the doctor. “I want to wait.”

“Wait for what?” James asks in disbelief. “Celeste, you heard the doctor. Improvements are unlikely. We’re risking you getting
worse.
”

“If we delay, that is the most probable outcome,” Dr. Robinson agrees.

“There, see?” James says. “The procedure can remove the growth, Celeste. You wouldn’t have to have those awful chemotherapy drugs any longer. Don’t you want that?”

“If the procedure is
successful
,” I murmur softly. My fingers trace the scar under my shirt. “I want to wait.”

“Celeste!” James exclaims. He turns to me, opens his mouths to talk. Then stops, looks at the doctor. “Can we have a minute?”

Dr. Robinson stands up. “Of course,” he says. He walks out the little room.

When the door shuts, James turns on me in earnest. “Celeste—“

“I’m not going to do it,” I cut over him. “I won’t James. Not yet.”

“For the love of God, why?” he asks. “Look at the scans!” he gestures at the computer screen. “You’re not improving, Celeste! You’re putting yourself through hell with chemotherapy for what? To stay the same?”

“I might get better,” I say.

James scoffs. “You really think so? Why haven’t you gotten better yet, then? You’ve been on therapy for what, three, four months? The doctor said there should be improvements. There aren’t! Why would you stay the course?”

“Because it’s
working
,” I stress. “It’s keeping the cancer at bay.”

“That’s not
working
!” James insists. “Celeste, you barely eat. Anything you do eat ends up being thrown up an hour after. That’s not the cancer, that’s the
drugs
they’re giving you. How can you say they’re working?”

“The tumor isn’t any bigger.”

“No, but that can’t last!” James grips my wrist. “Celeste, don’t you want this to be over? Don’t you want to move on? What about the promises we made to each other? Did you just forget those?”

“Of course not!” I fire back. “But things change, James. You can’t leave the country. You’re not capable of just picking me up and taking me away.”

“Like hell I’m not,” he growls.

“And I can’t just leave, either. I need to be here for Summer!”
Oh God, Summer
. “You’re forgetting she tried to kill herself because of me!”

“What?” James is taken aback. “Why would you say she tried to do it
because
of you? You had nothing to do with it, Celeste!”

Oh, if he only knew
, I think. Instead, I say:

“I’m not having the operation. End of.”

“No,
not
end of,” James growls. His grip tightens on my wrist. “I’m not going to watch you waste away. If you can have surgery and get the tumor cut out, you’re doing it!”

“And what makes you think it’s going to work, huh?” I fire back, my voice full of emotion. “What if they screw up, James? What if they cut my skull open and something bad happens?” My hand keeps stroking the scar. “What if I die in the operating room, James? Huh? Tell me that!”

“Stop it,” he grabs my other hand and pulls it away from my chest. “You’re not going to die in the operating room, Celeste. They’re professionals. You’re not in some back-of-the-woods, no-name hospital in a third world country. You’re in
America
! We have the best doctors in the world.”

“So good I nearly died last time I went under the knife,” I say softly.

James sucks in a breath. “What?”

“The anesthesiologist screwed up my drugs, and they couldn’t revive me,” I say. My voice trembles. I’ve never told anybody this. “I was in a coma for three days after. They operated on my heart, sewed me up, and then… because somebody wasn’t paying attention… couldn’t wake me.”

“Celeste,” James says. “I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”

“It’s when Brad left,” I mumble. I can’t look James in the eye. “He got scared. He left me, because he said he couldn’t be with someone who might keel over and die at any moment.”

“Celeste. Celeste, look at me.” James takes hold of both my hands. “I am not Brad,” he says firmly. “You cannot compare him to me. Brad did not love you. If he said he did, it wasn’t a tenth, not a hundredth, of the love I feel for you now.”

He brings my hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles.

“I guarantee—I promise you—that I will get you the best doctors. We’ll have two anesthesiologists watching over you. Three, four. Hell, I’ll hire all the ones on duty at the hospital. Your life won’t be at risk ever again.”

“Oh, James.” Tears start to build in the corners of my eye. “Even if you do all that, even if that happens, even if I go for the operation… do you know the chance of survival I have?”

“No.” I shake my head sadly. “He said that
if
the tumor is removed, I might live. It’s a big
if
, James. It’s huge. Enormous.”

“He seemed certain—“

“I looked it up,” I say. My eyes are wet. I hate doing this to him, but if I don’t tell him now, I’m only setting him up for heartbreak in the future. “I looked it up before, James, when I first got the diagnosis. I know the survival rate of cancer patients who go through the procedure he’s proposing.”

“And?” James sounds anxious. “What is it, Celeste? Tell me.”

I look away. “Less than ten percent,” I whisper.

A hollow silence fills the room.

I stare into the corner, and keep staring, and try to keep myself together. I wait for James to speak. For him to say something, anything, a single word…

Before he has the chance, the door squeaks open.

Dr. Robinson peers in. He takes one look at us, and mutters, “Oh.”

“We’re ready,” I tell him. I see James from the corner of my eye. His focus is on the far wall.

The doctor steps in. “You don’t have to make the decision right now,” he tells me. He’s speaking to me directly because James is stoic. “Here.” He writes something down on a card and hands it to me. “That’s my personal cell. I have another patient I have to get to right now. But as soon as you’re ready, when you’ve made up your mind?” He nods at the card. “Give me a call. Day or night, it doesn’t matter. I’ll pick up.” He glances at James. “Professor Landon,” he says, as way of farewell, and leaves the room.

With the door closed, the silence stretches again.

It’s unbearable. I have to speak. “James…”

“Ten percent!” he exclaims as an oath and suddenly bolts up. “I don’t believe it,” he says.

Before I know it, he’s out the door, rushing the way the doctor went.

I pick up my things and carefully push my chair back under the desk. Then I step outside.

At the far end of the hall, I spy James and the doctor in a heated conversation. Their voices don’t carry but James is doing a hell of a lot of gesturing.

I turn to a nearby nurse. “Excuse me,” I say. “Could you direct me to Room 306?”

I have James looking out for me.
Summer
needs me to look out for her.

27.

I turn the handle and enter Room 306.

It’s dark. The blinds are drawn and the lights are dimmed.

A quiet gasp escapes my lips when I see the bed.

Summer is unrecognizable.

She has bandages covering her face. There are two little eye-holes, and a gap for her nose. I see a line of stitches running along her jaw and a nasty bruise beneath it.

Tubes run into her nostrils, and she’s hooked up to an IV machine. I see the shape of a cast on her leg beneath the blanket. She has a brace round her neck.

She looks rough, in short.

But at least she’s still alive.