Read Online Her Secrets by Breena Wilde, 12 NA's of Christmas - Free Book Online
Authors: Breena Wilde, 12 NA's of Christmas
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over, I’ll recommend you go through a round of chemotherapy and that should destroy the rest.” The doctor smiled slightly. “Between the two treatments they should leave your body cancer free.”
Willow leaned forward. “And what are the risks of doing the operation?” Obviously if her doctor said he couldn’t do it that meant it was difficult to say the least, probably near impossible.
“Well,” the doctor took off her reading glasses and clasped her hands together. “There is a chance you’ll be paralyzed, if not fully then partially from the waist down, and there’s also the possibility that there’ll be complications while you’re on the table and you’ll die.”
Willow finally glanced at Austin. Was he hearing what the doctor said? She might die on the table or at least be paralyzed. Austin was pale and his jaws were clenched together.
Austin was freaking out.
Keeping my eyes on him, Willow asked, “Okay, and if I don’t do the surgery? What then?”
The doctor nodded as though she expected the question. “Then you’ll live a relatively pain free life over the next three to six months. A year if you’re lucky.”
Austin closed his eyes and Willow felt the butterflies in her stomach shatter into a million pieces.
“How soon do I need to give you an answer?” Willow turned back to the doctor.
“The sooner the better.” The doctor clicked a few buttons on her computer. “I can get you in for the surgery on Friday at eight-thirty in the morning, if that’s what you decide to do.” She leaned back. “Mr. Merrick, do you have any questions?”
Austin opened his eyes. “No, not at the moment.” Then he stood and stuck out his hand. The doctor took it. “Thank you so much for your time, Vivianne. I really—” his voice broke.
“It’s my pleasure, Austin. Really.” She patted his hand.
Austin grabbed Willow’s arm and he walked her to the door. “We’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow. Will that be enough time?”
“Yes, that’ll be fine.”
Willow and Austin left. They walked past the receptionist and over to the elevator. Austin pushed the down arrow. Willow sensed the stress rolling off him.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked quietly.
He glanced over but didn’t respond.
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. He pushed the L for lobby and they rode down in silence.
When they were outside, Austin leaned over taking in big gulps of air. Willow stood beside him, resting a hand on his back, wondering if he was going to be sick. Emma had been sick often enough that Willow figured she could handle it. What she wasn’t prepared for was the sob that ripped from his chest. It tore into her.
“Austin,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. They were on the sidewalk. People gave them a wide berth and she was grateful.
He see med to suddenly realize where they were and stood, adjusted his expensive suit jacket, and grabbed her hand. They walked to his vehicle—a big black truck. He unlocked it and helped Willow in.
When the doors were shut Austin started the engine, then turned to face her . “You’re having the surgery.”
“Excuse me ?” Willow said, irritated by his commanding voice. It wasn’t his decision. And he had no right to tell her what to do.
“There isn’t even a question. Of course you’ll have the surgery.”
She buckled her seatbelt and turned away from him. “I could die,” she whispered, thinking about Emma. It was a Monday. Emma was almost six months old, and in four days she could be dead. No more seeing her daughter’s beautiful face, never another kiss on her chubby cheeks or her sweet feet. Nothing. Willow wasn’t ready for that possibility. If she was going to die, she needed more time.
“You won’t die. You won’t,” he said, his voice full of anguish.
It almost killed Willow hearing the pain in his voice. He’d already lost his first love, and now he might lose her. She wished there was a way
Willow leaned forward. “And what are the risks of doing the operation?” Obviously if her doctor said he couldn’t do it that meant it was difficult to say the least, probably near impossible.
“Well,” the doctor took off her reading glasses and clasped her hands together. “There is a chance you’ll be paralyzed, if not fully then partially from the waist down, and there’s also the possibility that there’ll be complications while you’re on the table and you’ll die.”
Willow finally glanced at Austin. Was he hearing what the doctor said? She might die on the table or at least be paralyzed. Austin was pale and his jaws were clenched together.
Austin was freaking out.
Keeping my eyes on him, Willow asked, “Okay, and if I don’t do the surgery? What then?”
The doctor nodded as though she expected the question. “Then you’ll live a relatively pain free life over the next three to six months. A year if you’re lucky.”
Austin closed his eyes and Willow felt the butterflies in her stomach shatter into a million pieces.
“How soon do I need to give you an answer?” Willow turned back to the doctor.
“The sooner the better.” The doctor clicked a few buttons on her computer. “I can get you in for the surgery on Friday at eight-thirty in the morning, if that’s what you decide to do.” She leaned back. “Mr. Merrick, do you have any questions?”
Austin opened his eyes. “No, not at the moment.” Then he stood and stuck out his hand. The doctor took it. “Thank you so much for your time, Vivianne. I really—” his voice broke.
“It’s my pleasure, Austin. Really.” She patted his hand.
Austin grabbed Willow’s arm and he walked her to the door. “We’ll have an answer for you by tomorrow. Will that be enough time?”
“Yes, that’ll be fine.”
Willow and Austin left. They walked past the receptionist and over to the elevator. Austin pushed the down arrow. Willow sensed the stress rolling off him.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked quietly.
He glanced over but didn’t respond.
The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. He pushed the L for lobby and they rode down in silence.
When they were outside, Austin leaned over taking in big gulps of air. Willow stood beside him, resting a hand on his back, wondering if he was going to be sick. Emma had been sick often enough that Willow figured she could handle it. What she wasn’t prepared for was the sob that ripped from his chest. It tore into her.
“Austin,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. They were on the sidewalk. People gave them a wide berth and she was grateful.
He see med to suddenly realize where they were and stood, adjusted his expensive suit jacket, and grabbed her hand. They walked to his vehicle—a big black truck. He unlocked it and helped Willow in.
When the doors were shut Austin started the engine, then turned to face her . “You’re having the surgery.”
“Excuse me ?” Willow said, irritated by his commanding voice. It wasn’t his decision. And he had no right to tell her what to do.
“There isn’t even a question. Of course you’ll have the surgery.”
She buckled her seatbelt and turned away from him. “I could die,” she whispered, thinking about Emma. It was a Monday. Emma was almost six months old, and in four days she could be dead. No more seeing her daughter’s beautiful face, never another kiss on her chubby cheeks or her sweet feet. Nothing. Willow wasn’t ready for that possibility. If she was going to die, she needed more time.
“You won’t die. You won’t,” he said, his voice full of anguish.
It almost killed Willow hearing the pain in his voice. He’d already lost his first love, and now he might lose her. She wished there was a way
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