Clemen

ven the smell made my stomach churn. I lay curled on my bed, the sheets tangled around me, wishing for an end to the dizzyi

d in my mind, a relentless drumbeat. "You need to tell your family, Elana. This isn't some

a whisper. The doctor had looked away, his si

e, small and flickering, urged me to call. To tell him. To break this terrib

icemail. He had hung up. My hope, fragile as it was, crumbled to

n' t do this alone. My fingers, trembling slightly,

voice full of his usual loud energy.

my voice cracking.

Casey, with his boundless energy and easy charm, had always clashed with Franco' s rigid formality. Franco saw Casey as an unrefined jo

sterile white walls of the hospital. Heads turned as he strode throug

, his voice low, his eyes scanning my

. "No. Just... routine check-up."

om, the steady drip of the IV a strange comfort. The warmth of the blanket, the low hum of the

, a harried young woman, bustled over. "Miss Clements, your drip is fi

my voice thick with slee

touch was surprisingly gentle as she removed the n

nd of tests. My stomach growled, a hollow ache. I felt lightheaded, the white ha

when I

. And

rm wrapped protectively around her. His face was a mask of tenderness, his brow furrowed with c