Page 143 of Break Me

“What is it?” he asks.

I draw in a slow breath. “I went to the doctor a few days ago.”

He nods once. “And?”

“I thought I might be pregnant.” His eyebrows lift slightly. Then he sees the rest of it on my face, and the hope drains out of his expression before I even say the words. “They ran some tests.”

I can’t make myself look away.

“I have cancer.”

He doesn’t move. His eyes stay on mine, searching my face as though there's still another sentence coming.

It never does.

“What kind?” he asks finally.

“Ovarian.”

His eyes close for a second.

Just a second.

When they open again, something in them has changed.

“How bad?”

“They caught it too late.”

“Raven.” His shoulders tense, the same way they used to when the doctors talked about my mother in hushed voices in the hospital hallways. “Tell me. How much time?”

Tears sting my eyes. “Not long enough.”

My father doesn't speak. He leans back slowly, one hand covering his mouth as his eyes fall to the floor. The silence stretches until his gaze lifts to the photograph above the fireplace. He holds her there for a long time before looking back at me.

“Wolf..." His voice is quiet. "Would you give us a minute?"

"Of course."

Sam leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead before giving my hand one last squeeze. The front door closes softly behind him.

Dad waits until we're alone.

"You're not doing treatment."

It isn't a question.

"No."

His eyes drift back to Mom's photograph. "They told your mother the same thing."

My throat tightens. "I remember."

He nods, almost absently. "She tried everything."

I close my eyes. I remember hospital rooms that smelled of antiseptic. Machines that never seemed to stop humming.

The way she grew smaller inside the bed until the blankets looked like they belonged to someone else.