The words flew out of her mouth as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of them. I was in shock. I stared at her, taking in her words, but not able to say anything in response. I knew she’d been keeping something from me but this? This was crazy. This couldn’t possibly be true.
“How can you have cancer?” I stammered. “I mean, you’re young and healthy. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand how.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice weak. “I should have told you when I found out. You and my dad.”
“Darren doesn’t know?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No one does.”
“Tara, how the hell could you keep this a secret?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”
She looked so fragile. Her eyes were red with tears, and her cheeks were flushed. Her shoulders were slumped forward, and she was shaking. I didn’t think. I just moved forward, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her against my chest.
She sobbed into me, shaking and weeping uncontrollably. I knew this had been killing her. No one should have to face something like this alone, and yet, Tara had. She’d closed herself off from me, her father, and everyone else she loved. It wasn’t fair to any of us but most of all, it wasn’t fair to her.
“I’m right here,” I said. I kissed her hair. “I’m right here, okay? You aren’t going through this alone. I won’t let you.”
She nodded against my chest but just kept crying. I tightened my hold on her, and we stood there, in the middle of the PT building, locked in an endless embrace. I never wanted to let her go. Now that I knew the truth, I didn’t want to spend a single second away from her.
“I need you to promise me something,” she said, gently pulling away from me. She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Don’t tell my dad or Cathy. Not yet.”
“Tara,” I began, but she shook her head.
“I’ll tell them,” she said. “I swear. Just, not yet. I’m not ready for them to know, okay? Once the doctors have a solid plan for my treatment, then I’ll tell them.”
I couldn’t deny her anything. Not now. I nodded, and she smiled gratefully, falling into my arms again. I felt my eyes burn with tears, but I pushed them away. Now wasn’t the time to break down. Tara needed me.
***
I wanted Tara to spend the night, but she insisted on going home. She was exhausted and just needed time to herself. So I walked into my apartment alone and fell on the couch. My head was spinning. I didn’t know what to do but I didn’t get long to think about it. There was a knock on the front door that drew me back to reality.
I hurried over, thinking it was Tara, but found my mother standing outside.
“Brought you some groceries,” she said, holding up two bags.
“Thanks,” I said. I forced a smile on my face and watched as she unloaded the bags in my kitchen.
While she put away the food, she cleaned off the counters. I wanted to tell her about Tara’s illness. The secret was burning a hole in my gut, but I kept my mouth shut. I promised Tara I wouldn’t say anything and I couldn’t break that promise.
Instead, I sighed and leaned against my kitchen counter, trying to think of something that might distract me. My mom threw away an old loaf of bread and shoved some old mail into my trashcan. While I watched her, a realization hit me.
“Hey,” I said. “You didn’t see my pain pills last time you were here, did you?”
“Pain pills?” she asked, frowning. “No, I didn’t see any prescription bottles.”
“They weren’t in the bottle,” I said. “I put them in my old matchbox container, so I wouldn’t lose them again.”
“Oh! Crap,” Mom said. “Yeah, I thought that was just junk. I tossed it a few days ago. I’
m so sorry.”
I just shook my head and smiled. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. I was glad to know where the pills went but with Tara’s illness in mind, nothing else could upset me. I didn’t care about the painkillers anymore. My leg would survive. But, Tara—I wasn’t sure she would.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - TARA
Telling Caleb was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I didn’t want to but when I watched him walk away from me, I knew I couldn’t lose him. Having cancer was bad enough. Losing Caleb would have been more than I could take.