Page 23 of Never Stop

She chuckled. “No.”

“Okay, let’s change the subject. Why don’t you help me make pancakes since you’re out of bed now?”

She hugged me from behind. “Don’t be mad. I’m not a pothead.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I felt like a hypocrite even though my reason for taking drugs was justified. I was also thinking about the C word again.

“I’m not mad.”

“You sure? Because you seem mad.”

I nodded. “Yeah, Bai, I’m sure. I do need to tell you something after breakfast.”

“What about? Just tell me.”

“Let’s eat first.”

“You’re scaring me.”

She had no idea because I was the one who was actually terrified.

Bailee tried to pry out of me what I needed to talk to her about over breakfast, but I avoided the question numerous times by changing the subject until she finally stopped asking. After we were both done, we sat in silence as we stared at the TV. I wasn’t sure what was on because I’d zoned out.How would I tell her that I may have colon cancer?

“Just tell me.”

I turned my head toward her. I wanted to blurt the situation out and let it be out in the air for her to swallow, except I couldn’t form the right sentence.

“Tell me,” she repeated. “You’re really scaring me.”

I closed my eyes and muttered softly, “I’m scared, too.”

“Brooke—”

I took a deep breath.There was no reason to ease into it.“I may have colon cancer.”

She drew her head back as if I’d slapped her. “What?”

I felt my throat closing. “I saw a genetics counselor and had my blood drawn a few days ago to test for markers for familial—fuck, I don’t know how to say what it’s called, but FAP.”

She scrunched her eyebrows. “FAP?”

“People with desmoid tumors usually have FAP which is basically colon cancer.”

She stared at me for what seemed like hours until she finally shook her head and uttered in a whisper, “No.”

I nodded slowly. “Let me pull up FAP on my phone and let you read what it’s about.” I figured that would be easier for her, and for me since I couldn’t pronounce the damn condition.

I watched her as she read over the website. “So this familial aden-whatever is hereditary, and I might have it too?”

I reached for my phone to shut it off. “Not necessarily. Since we don’t have the same father, it’s hard to say. But if Mom has the markers, then she could have passed it to either one of us. There’s about a fifty-fifty chance for her to spread it, and since she has two kids…”

“But Mom doesn’t have colon cancer, does she?”

I sighed. “I don’t think so, but it’s possible for someone to carry the trait and not have any symptoms.”

Bailee groaned. “That would be so like Mom to not have a care in the world and then stick us with her shit.”

“I’m not sure it works that way.” I laughed slightly. “Since I’ve already had a desmoid, it’s likely I have the disorder and not you.”