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I moved closer to him and circled my arms around his waist. “And I said I was sorry.”
His lips pressed to my forehead, almost automatically. “What did the doctor say?”
“They did a biopsy and it came back fine.”
Though he looked relieved, he knew. “So why the look on your face?”
“I have the breast cancer gene.”
His breath caught and he pulled away from me. “What does that mean?”
I stood in front of him, fearing what I was about to tell him. “It means I have a mutation in the gene that makes it more likely to divide and change rapidly and that can lead to cancer. About fifty out of a hundred women with the BRCA 2 gene mutation will get breast cancer by the time they’re seventy.”
“So that means?” I could see the anxiety building inside him as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt on his bicep.
“I get a preventative mastectomy and reconstruction.”
His chest expanded with a heavy breath and then the words “That seems a bit drastic for something you don’t know you’re going to get,” followed.
Rager stared at me for the longest time before Lane knocked on the door. “Rager, I need ya, man.”
Rager nodded and blinked slowly at me. He didn’t say anything before he walked away and out the door. Mom came by as I was finishing putting away the groceries, Pace and Hudson with her, and then Knox following close behind but having a meltdown that his shirt was on backward.
Mom hugged me immediately. “I’ve told him four times it’s not on backward, but I’m beginning to question it myself.”
I stared down at him. It wasn’t on backward and as soon as he noticed me, he forgot all about his shirt and ran full speed into my arms, along with Pace and Hudson. Holding them all close, I started crying. There was no question in my mind I’d get the mastectomy, or any other procedure needed if it meant I’d have more time with them.
Mom glanced around the motor home after setting her phone on the counter. “Where’s Bristol?”
“Kinsley took her to get a churro.”
“I want a churro,” Pace whined, frowning.
I touched his cheek. “I’ll take you to get one in a minute, buddy.”
When I stood, Mom yanked me into her, wiping my tears from my cheeks. “How’d it go? I saw Rager and he looked… upset.”
I waited for the boys to be occupied with their toys before I spoke softly. “The biopsy came back negative. It was just a swollen milk duct.”
“But?” She knew by my tears there was more.
“I have a BRCA 2 mutation.”
Mom blinked slowly. “You should get the mastectomy. Maybe even have your ovaries and tubes removed.” I didn’t tell Rager about that part. I figured I’d deal with the higher risk surgery first.
“That’s what I said, but I’m not sure Rager agrees.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“He said it’s a bit drastic.”
Mom shook her head. “It’s risky, and it’s not a guarantee you’re going to get cancer if you have the gene, but with our family history, I wouldn’t take the chance.”
“And I don’t want to.” I looked down at the boys. “I can’t imagine ever leaving them, or Rager.”
Mom’s eyes teared up. “Honey, you have to do what you’re comfortable with.”
I stared at the boys. “What would you do?”