“She’s gonna be fine, babe.” He looks at me with love in his eyes.

I numbly nod my head, squeezing his hand in return, but I don’t feel his words.

I’ve been here before, and she got better the last time. But now, she’s sick again, and I have a terrible feeling deep inside that things could be worse this time.

Dad is pacing the waiting room in the ER when we arrive.

“Hey.” I hug him. “How is she doing?”

“She’s having a scan done at the moment,” he tells me, releasing me. “She was conscious and talking when they took her through. I’m just waiting for the doctor to come and tell me what’s happening.” Dad turns to Adam, acknowledging him, “Adam.”

“Sir, I’m really sorry to hear about Casey.”

“Call me Mick, please.” My dad gives him a weak smile. “And thank you. And thanks for getting Evie here so quickly.”

“No problem.”

“Dad…” I catch his attention. “Is it…back?”

He knows what I’m asking. His eyes lower. “I don’t know, honey.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Adam reaches over and squeezes my hand. I step back into him, really needing the safety and warmth that only he can give me. He puts his arms around my stomach, and presses his lips to my hair.

“Do either of you want anything?” Adam asks.

Both Dad and I say, “No.”

Then, we fall into this quiet silence. We’re all just standing there, lost in our thoughts, waiting for news on Casey, while we’re surrounded by other people waiting on news of their loved ones, too.

Fortunately, we don’t have to wait too long.

“Casey Taylor’s family?”

We all turn at the same time. The doctor looks to be fortyish and is on the wrong side of hair loss but is faithfully clinging to what he has left.

“I’m Dr. Prestwich,” he says, addressing us as a group. “I’m the doctor who has been treating Casey since she arrived here.”

“I’m Casey’s dad, Mick.” My dad reaches over and shakes his hand. “And this is my eldest daughter, Evie, and her boyfriend, Adam.”

The doctor nods at us as a greeting.

“Right. Well, as I said, I’ve been treating Casey. She was taken down for a scan not too long ago, and while she was there, I familiarized myself with her history.” He looks down at the folder he had tucked under his arm. “Now, Casey was diagnosed with an ependymoma, grade two, brain tumor a year and a half ago. She received surgery and radiation therapy, which she finished just under a year ago, and the treatment was successful.”

“That’s correct,” my dad says.

“She’s been fine since? No signs of any recurring symptoms—headaches, tiredness, slurred speech, random bouts of vomiting?”

“No. She’s been fine, like she used to be before the tumor. I mean, she’s had a touch of the flu recently, but that’s it. Today, she was complaining of feeling a bit tired, but I put it down to all the Christmas excitement. She was talking to me while I was wrapping Evie’s present. Then, just out of nowhere, she just fell to the floor and started…started having a fit.”

Dad’s eyes glaze with tears. Hearing his words and seeing the tears in his eyes bring tears back to my own. I have to look away and bite my lip to stop from crying.

Adam’s arm comes around my shoulder, pulling me into his side. He presses his lips to my temple.

“Okay. So, the scan results came back, and I’ve looked at them. I’m not a neurologist specialist, but…there is definitely something showing on Casey’s brain—a shadow. I have spoken with Casey’s neurologist…Dr.…” He starts scanning his paperwork.

“Hemmings,” Dad finishes for him.

“Hemmings, yes. Thank you. So, yes, I spoke to Dr. Hemmings over at the UCLA Medical Center. I have had the scan sent over to him. He wants to have Casey transferred to UCLA first thing in the morning, so they can do more tests. So, she will stay here for the night.”

“So, the tumor is back?” I manage to get out.

The doctor looks at me. “I can’t say for sure exactly what is wrong with Casey without having further tests done. But given her history of a prior cancerous tumor to the brain…yes, it is possible that is the case. But I will emphasize not to panic because, even if the tumor has returned, it does not mean it’s cancerous this time.”

All I can hear is, The tumor has returned.

It’s happening again.

“When can we see her?” I ask, desperate to see my sister.

“Casey will be transferred to the children’s ward shortly. I’ll arrange for you to see her before she goes up. You can stay the night with her, if you wish, Mr. Taylor?”

“Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Right. Well, a nurse will be through soon to take you to see Casey.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Dad says.

The doctor disappears back through the door he came in through.

Dad turns to me.

I can see it, the fear, in his eyes.

My heart starts to break. I force myself to keep strong for Dad’s sake. He needs me now more than ever.

“Mr. Taylor?” I turn to see a dark-haired lady walking toward us. “Sorry to bother you right now, but we need you to fill out some paperwork for us.”

Dad lets out a tired-sounding breath, running his hand through his hair.

“Is it anything I can do?” I volunteer.

“No, it’s fine, Evie,” Dad says. “I can do it. Why don’t you and Adam grab us some drinks to have while we wait to see Casey?”

“Okay,” I say. “Coffee?”

“Perfect. You need some money?”

“No, I got this.” I pat my purse.

Adam and I walk down the hall to where we saw the coffee machine.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Adam says as we walk. He catches my hand, holding it.

“Yeah, me, too. It’s not going to be much of a Christmas for you, I’m afraid. We’ll be spending it in the hospital with Casey. Maybe you should go see Max—”

He stops me in the middle of the empty hall and turns me to him. “No way am I leaving you. I can’t believe you’d suggest it.”

“I just want you to have a nice Christmas,” I say, thinking back to what he told me in the supermarket.

“I will have a nice Christmas because I’ll be with you. I don’t care where I am, Evie, so long as I’m with you.”

Tears prick my eyes again. I’m so lucky to love him and have him love me back.

I slide my arms around his back, hugging him, and I press my cheek to his chest. His strong arms come around me. I can hear his heart beating strong and solid through his shirt.

“I love you,” I murmur.

“I love you, too.” His fingers brush through my hair.

We stand there for a moment, just holding each other, until I reluctantly let go, and we start walking to the coffee machine again.

I reach for my purse, but Adam stops me. “I’ll get these. What do you want?”

“Coffee, please.”

Adam gets three coffees, and I carry mine and Dad’s while Adam carries his own as we head back to the waiting room. We’re just passing by a room when I hear my dad’s voice inside, bringing me to a stop.