The Golden Couple

Chap. 23

"So the entire team is going," Clayton informed Bryce. "You want a ticket?"

"What's going on?" I asked, taking a seat on the couch.

"There's going to be a major league baseball game here in South Carolina," Bryce informed me.

"What? Why?"

"Who cares? The Chicago Cubs are playing the Pittsburgh Pirates and the entire team is going."

"Sounds like jock paradise," I said, rolling my eyes as I popped a strawberry into my mouth.

Bryce just smiled at me.

"What time is your doctor's appointment?"

"3," he said, checking the clock. "Are you taking me?"

I nodded. "We're meeting your mom there."

Bryce scoffed.

"Well you can't go by yourself," I pointed out.

Clayton stood up, heading towards the kitchen.

"Get me food!" Bryce called after him.

"I didn't hear a please!"

Bryce ignored him, turning off the TV.

"I don't want to go to the doctor," Bryce informed me. "I feel fine."

"The doctor just wants to check in with you after your first round of chemo," I said, as Clayton came back into the living room. "You'll suffer through it."

Clayton handed Bryce a bowl of blueberries.

"Yes!" Bryce cheered, dropping a few blueberries into his mouth.

"You're welcome," Clayton said, before biting into his apple.

"Tell her I don't need to go," Bryce said to Clayton, his mouth full of blueberries.

"Actually I'm going to take Sophie's side on this one."

Bryce's eyes widened, as did my own.

That didn't happen every day.

"Just hear out what your doctor has to say, let him tell you that you're looking spiffy, and then I'll agree with you."

"I hate the both of you," Bryce informed us.

Clayton just shrugged.

Bryce tossed Dawson a treat before we left.

"Why are you so deadest about going to the doctor?" I asked Bryce, as he slumped down in my passenger seat.

"Because I don't want to go."

There has to be something more to it than that. Bryce wasn't the type to pout over nothing.

I backed out of his driveway before raising an eyebrow at him.

"I just don't want him to tell me anything I don't want to hear," Bryce amended. "I want everything to be okay."

That sounded more like it.

"You can't worry about something that hasn't happened yet," I said, smiling over at him. "Don't get worked up."

He ran his fingers through his half-head of hair before pulling his beanie on. "I'm not getting worked up. I just don't want to go."

I let the subject drop, unwilling to continue going in circles with him.

The hospital's parking lot was packed when we got there, and we had to park on the fourth level of the parking garage.

Bryce wrapped his hand around mine as we made our way over to the elevator.