Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Anderson

I hate thinking about that douchebag touching Aspen.

"You've been looking outside my window for the past two hours." Mom lowers the volume of her television. "Watching The Walking Dead by myself isn't as fun. What happened to ‘that's not possible. No zombie can walk as fast,' or my favorite, ‘that guy should've died three episodes ago'?"

I check my phone, tempted to text her. We're leaving tomorrow morning for San Jose, and she's not home. Fucking jealousy.

"She'll be back soon," Mom declares with confidence.

"Who?"

"Aspen," she says, smiling knowingly at me. "You like her."

"We're friends," I lie because friendship is the last thing I want from the girl-next-door.

Running a hand through my hair, I let out a breath. For years, my missions took priority over my life. They came first. My unit came second. Socializing wasn't on my mind. Not until I quit and started living a civilian life, or something closer to it. People, mainly Mom, don't understand it. They don't realize that what I do takes center stage, and it's the engine that drives my life. Dedicated to the cause, I never had time to meet a woman the way I'm getting to know Aspen.

Last night was different. Every day with her is special: a dose of life, something new to learn, a call from the outside world. Like in everything I've done, I have to research and explore my surroundings. I need to understand what's happening between us, and wait for her to trust me.

"I'm glad you found someone." She ignores my ‘we're friends' declaration. "Happy that it's one of my girls. Leaving you is getting easier."

My head snaps back at her. "No. You're not leaving."

"You don't want to listen to the doctors, but I'm not responding to treatments. This illness might win over my body, but I won't let it dictate my last days. You have to stop."

"One more doctor, you promised."

"She's here," Mom says, pointing at the window. "Those red lights next door are usually his car."

Mom's right. The black sedan is here. "How do you know?"

She tilts her head, winking at me. "It's a gift. Go check on her before your head explodes." Crossing my arms, I glare at her. She touches her temple. "That vein is pulsing fast, just like the one on your neck."

"Aspen is a friend, Mom."

"You keep saying that, honey."

"Be right back, Mom." I lift my hands, giving up. She can't possibly understand what Aspen and I have. I don't even know what we have. I have no fucking idea what I'm doing with her.

I walk outside through the back door. I'm making my way to the main entrance when I hear her utter, "drive careful."

"Call me when you get back, Aspen," he kisses her on the cheek, turning around and sauntering to his car.

"You can come out from wherever you are, Anderson," Aspen calls out when douchebag turns on his engine. "I know you're there."

"How?"

"What's going on, Hawk?"

That name slips out of her lips, it's like a siren call. I want her to scream it while I fuck her hard. I stop in front of her, my boots touching her colorful, flat shoes. Did he touch you? I stare at her lips, recalling our kiss and smile.

"Hmm." She bites her bottom lip. "I just noticed that you have a fake smile."

Her hand lifts, caressing my jaw. "Do you want to come inside to watch a movie with Brynn and me?"

"Not tonight." I stop her hand, pressing it to my lips, trailing kisses along it and stopping at the inside of her wrist. "Mom and I are watching a series. I came downstairs to check on you."

She purses her lips. Her eyes smiling. "For years, I've been able to come and go from home without any issue. You don't have to check on me."

"So, why was the douche here?" I use a casual voice, and serve her a smirk, poorly masking the grinding of my teeth. I don't mention how much I loathed these couple of hours while I thought of another man touching and kissing her.

"Douche?" She raises an eyebrow critically, shaking her head and chuckling. "Heath, that's his name. And he's nice. I don't owe you an explanation of why he was here."

I nod, pressing my lips together, reserving any nasty or angry words toward the fucker for my next mission.

"He's now a good friend , and he might stay in my life—as friends," she adds, smiling at me while dropping a warning, and the greatest fucking news. A fucking grin tugs on my lips. "See you tomorrow morning."

I bend, my lips touching her ear, my hands resting on lower back. Pressing her closer to me, I tell her, "Sweet dreams, Aspen."

My lips trace her jaw and meet her lips. It's a chaste kiss, one that friends can have. "I'm going to miss you tonight."

Resting my forehead on hers, I close my eyes. I can't bring myself to move. The pull between us intensifies each time we see each other. At least the pull she has on me.

"Goodnight, Hawk." She sighs, pivoting and opening the front door. She closes it behind her, and I feel like she has taken a part of me with her.

After a two-hour flight, we arrive in San Jose. Mom and Aspen chatted all the way from the house to the hotel about work, books, knitting, and family. About her parents and how her dad died a few years ago. They talked about her brother, Austin, who's a counselor and a human resources administrator. Once we check into the hotel, I drive us to the clinic which is only a few miles away.

Dr. Vadapalli receives Mom immediately. He reviews her medical history, going through the paperwork her current doctor sent and explaining his views. Not everyone is eligible for his treatment, he'll run a series of tests for the next few days. Once he has enough information, he'll discuss the results and a probable plan of action. He hands over a folder with Mom's schedule if we decide to proceed.

Opening the folder, I see that starting the second day there's a big note. DEPENDING ON RESULTS.

"Any questions?"

"What does ‘depending on results' mean?" I turn around the paper and point to the uppercase words.

He taps his pen on the desk, looking at me. "The tests we run are a sequence. Depending on the data we receive, we either need more information to take the next step, or we can determine the plan of action. It might take a day or it could take the full five days to determine if she qualifies."

"What disqualifies a candidate?" Aspen jumps in.

"Our exclusion criteria is extensive," he responds. "And so are our exceptions to those exclusions. Naming all of them would be unfair because Ms. Hawkins might fall into one or several, but that doesn't mean she won't be eligible."

Aspen nods. I'll have to ask her to explain this to me, because it sounds like a bunch of bullshit. "Do you have statistics on your meta survivors?" she continues.

"Meta survivors?" I turn my attention toward her, my brows arching. What is she talking about?

"I've researched about Meta survivors," she explains me. "Those who transition from a terminal illness to a manageable situation where they can live so much longer."

She turns then to the doctor. "What are your statistics?"

"Every patient is different from the other, I don't create statistics," the doctor counteracts. "I create treatments."

The doctor looks at Mom. "Ms. Hawkins, I can only promise to do what's best for you. If it's in my hands to treat you, we'll create a plan to either eradicate the cancer or expand your life expectancy for as long as we can do so."

Mom clutches her purse and nods. "I think it's fair to give this a try." She turns toward me. "In the event that my treatment isn't able to eradicate the cancer from my body, I won't continue, Anderson."

"Mom?"

"Do we have an understanding?" She looks around the room.

The doctor nods. "Let's not make decisions based on our first meeting. Why don't we head to my lab and start our procedure?"

Aspen holds Mom's hand with hers. "Would you like me to join you?"

She shakes her head. "I'd prefer if you stay with him, sweetheart. He doesn't want to let me go."

"We are fighting, Sophia." Aspen kisses her cheek. "You can't give up."

"It's not giving up, dear." Mom stands up. "This is giving myself a chance to feel alive during my last days. Life doesn't have to be long; it has to be well lived."