NICE GIRL TO LOVE (THE COMPLETE THREE-BOOK COLLECTION)(71)

Abby knew the instant Brian caught sight of his brother across the room. His entire body stilled and she could feel his muscles fighting a back-and-forth battle between closing around her another possessive inch, and letting her go. She made the decision for him and stepped back to give the brothers their space.

“How’s Skylar doing?” asked Connor, his voice vibrating with more emotions than Abby could name.

Emotions she herself was trying to ignore.

“She says she not in any pain. And the doctors said she should have little to no nerve or function loss in her finger.”

“And what about the seizure? Did the tests find anything?”

Brian’s jaw clenched. “No. As of right now, it’s an unexplained seizure.”

Damn. They all knew what that meant. Seizures were generally one of the first presenting symptoms of juvenile Huntington’s.

Stark pain streaked across Connor’s expression. “I’m going to head out of town for a few days. Let me know if—”

“Wait, you’re leaving now?” Abby couldn’t believe it. “Can’t you at least wait until Skylar’s awake?”

“We’re booked on the red-eye.” He patted his pockets in search of his phone. “But I guess we could take a later flight…”

We. Abby’s mouth snapped shut. To her knowledge, Connor only ever traveled alone.

Apparently, not anymore.

Brian looked equally surprised, though he recovered quicker than she did. “No need to change your travel plans, man. I’ll call you if there’s any news.”

Connor stopped searching for his phone and glanced up, hesitating for a beat as if at war over something internally before he up and bluntly asked the question that had been weighing on Abby’s mind for the past hour as well. “Are you going to start Skylar on the testing for the HD gene?”

Connor may as well have punched him in the face by the way Brian staggered back a microstep. “No, it’s premature to even consider it.”

“But what if she has the gene, Brian? We should be looking at new treatments and ways to try and stop or at least slow down the progression. Why have her go through all the pain? Think about all the symptoms that will make it impossible for her to continue going to school.”

“And you think I haven’t?” snapped Brian. “You think every time you’ve called to tell me about how unusually clumsy she’d been that day, or when her teacher mentions that she’s been different in her behavior and concentration, I don’t play out every day of her life in my mind with her going through everything Beth went through? Is that what you really think?” Brian covered his face with his hands. “Some nights, it’s all I ever think about.”

Abby’s hands flew up to her mouth in horror. She’d had no idea Brian was going through this. Not really. What the hell kind of best friend was she?

Connor went over to grip Brian’s shoulder. “Of course not. I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m just worried about her, too.”

“I know you are.” Suddenly, Brian looked so tired, so very much the age amassed from his experiences and not his years. “But I’ve talked with the doctors and read all there is to read about it. At this point, having her go through the testing will do way more harm than good. It’s hard enough for an adult to deal with the knowledge that there’s an expiration date on their life; the load is exponentially harder for a child to bear. Most times, they’re completely ill-equipped to deal with it, which often leads to psychological issues, errors in decision-making, and other health problems. Besides, simply knowing if she has the HD gene doesn’t do us any good at this point.” Brian looked up, his face fiercely protective. “Right now, Skylar is considered presymptomatic so I’m not putting her through testing. Period.”

The words melded, echoed in her ears. She’d read them all in her research over the years anyway; she didn’t need to hear it again. As the brothers continued to talk, Abby felt herself drifting, not to sleep but to a place where all her fears and worst nightmares came to rest, came to weigh on her, grow, and multiply. She didn’t even know when Connor had left, when her head had found Brian’s shoulder, or when she’d finally fallen asleep. The only thing she did know for sure was that her brain kept repeating the one statistical data they were all thinking about but didn’t want to mention.

That the common life expectancy for juvenile HD was often shorter the younger the onset…and Beth had only lived ten years after she’d had her first symptom at the age of eighteen.

Skylar was only twelve.




BRIAN WOKE UP TO THE SOUNDS of hospital clatter, and the warm weight of Abby against his chest. Scritching her hair to wake her gently, he pressed a few soft kisses to her temple. “It’s morning, sweetheart. I’m going to go check in with the doctor and see if Skylar’s awake.”

Abby stretched and nodded. “I’m heading to the restroom to splash some water on my face. Then I’ll see if I can find us some coffee, give you two a chance to talk and spend some time together before I head in.”

He was grateful that she inherently got things like that. That he’d want some time to just be with Skylar for a bit. Hold her hand, talk to her, convince himself that she was still really here.

Once back in the inner walls of the ICU, he found Beth’s doctor and Skylar’s pediatrician outside of her room discussing her case. He’d left messages for them both last night. After chatting with them for about ten minutes and hearing them reiterate everything they’d already discussed for years, Brian thanked them both and headed in to check on Skylar.