“ Cancer.
Such an ugly, life-altering word.
I knew eventually this day would come. How could it not? Both my parents died at a young age from cancer. My mother from breast cancer when she was twenty-five. Her mother when she was fifty-three. I had just sorta told myself it would or could happen. Had I jinxed myself into it? Some kind of crazy brain effect?
The possibility of breast cancer weighed heavily on me the older I got. For this reason, I’d had mammograms every year since I was twenty-five.
As I stared at the pamphlet and the oncologist’s name on it, I knew it had become our reality.
Jameson stared straight ahead, his eyes on the road as we drove from Charlotte back to Mooresville. Watching him carefully, I wanted to know what he was thinking. He said nothing in the doctor’s office. Hell, at the time, I wasn’t even sure he had been breathing. He was so still, blinking slowly, but I saw his knuckles turn white as he gripped his chair and the way his breathing faltered.
“Say something,”
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