Chelsea woke up the next morning, her legs tangled with Brent’s, as both their naked bodies lay underneath the blanket. She curled up closer to him, not wanting to lose any of the heat from his body. She felt him shift, and she silently groaned, knowing he was going to get out of bed soon. Just as she thought, he untangled himself from Chelsea, trying not to disturb her, thinking she was still asleep, and got out of bed. “Where are you going?” she mumbled.

“I have to take a shower so that I can head to practice,” he replied, leaning down and kissing her head. “Just go back to sleep.”

Chelsea pulled the covers closer around her, trying to stay warm as Brent walked out of the bedroom and towards the bathroom. Moments later she heard the shower running, and she turned over in bed. Knowing she wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep, she threw the blanket off of her and got out of bed. She went over to Brent’s dresser, pulling out one of his t-shirts and throwing it on before walking into the kitchen to cook some breakfast.

“God, you have no idea how much it turns me on to see you walking around with just my t-shirt on,” she heard Brent say ten minutes later as he walked into the kitchen to see what she was doing.

She turned the oven off as the eggs were finished cooking, and she turned around to look at him. “And, you have no idea how much it turns me on to see you fresh out of the shower, dripping wet, with no shirt on,” she smirked as she set the eggs on the table.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked her as they sat down at the table to eat their breakfast.

“You mean besides being worn out from last night?” she asked him with a smile on her face. “I’m doing okay. I’m scared about starting chemo Friday,” she admitted.

“Chels, don’t get mad at me or anything,” Brent began. “But, have you given any more thought to calling Taryn and explaining what’s going on? Telling her that you’re starting chemo on Friday and you might need a bone marrow transplant?” he asked her.

“Brent, I’ve already told you that I’ll call her if I need her, not before,” Chelsea told him. “Please, just leave it alone, okay? I don’t want to fight with you about this. Just respect my decision,” she begged.

“Chelsea, I just don’t want anything to happen to you. And, I really do think that you would be better off calling her now and explaining everything.”

“I don’t want to,” Chelsea told him. “So, stop asking me to.”

“Chelsea,” he began.

“Brent, stop,” she ordered. “Stop bringing it up. I’ll call her if it’s necessary and not before,” she yelled.

“Okay,” Brent sighed, not wanting to argue with her any longer. “I’ve got to get ready for practice,” he said, pushing out his chair from the table and standing up. Chelsea nodded her head, playing with the eggs that were on her plate, not feeling hungry any longer.

Chelsea stood up, clearing the table of the dishes and taking them into the kitchen, beginning to wash them. Brent walked by, calling out to her that he’d be home later and continued walking out the door. Chelsea sighed, leaning against the counter. She hadn’t wanted to argue with Brent, but she wanted him to stop badgering her about calling Taryn. If she could help it, Chelsea didn’t want Taryn in her life at all, and she couldn’t understand why Brent didn’t get that.

Brent drove to the practice arena, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Why Chelsea couldn’t just suck up her pride and call Taryn was beyond him. He was sick of fighting with her about it, but he couldn’t just watch her die and not have her fight it. He pulled into a parking space and grabbed his duffel bag out of the backseat as he made his way inside.

“Hey, Seabs, what’s up?” Duncan Keith asked him as Brent threw his duffel bag on the ground in front of his locker.

“Chelsea and I had another fight this morning,” Brent replied, kicking his tennis shoes off and sitting down on the bench in front of him.

“Another one?” Duncan asked. “What have you two been fighting about so much lately?”

Brent didn’t know how to answer the question. No one knew that Chelsea had a twin sister, and he was sure that she didn’t want anyone to know right now. “It’s nothing major,” Brent lied. “But, I do need to talk to you,” he said, remembering that Duncan was one of the guys that still didn’t know what was going on with Chelsea. Duncan looked up at him, giving him his full attention, as he could tell by the sound of his voice that whatever Brent was about to say was important. “So, you know Chelsea’s been sick lately, right?”

“Yeah,” Duncan nodded his head. “Did the doctors find out what’s going on?” he asked.

Brent nodded his head. “She has leukemia,” he told him. Duncan’s eyes went wide when he heard the news. “She’s starting chemotherapy on Friday.”

“Wow,” Duncan breathed. “Do they know if she’s going to be okay? Did they catch it early enough?”

“They said they caught it early, but we won’t know until after the chemo’s done,” Brent replied.

“So, is that why you two have been fighting a lot? Because of her having cancer?” Duncan asked.

“It’s complicated,” Brent said as he heard Adam Burish and Andrew Ladd walk into the locker room.

***

Brent walked into his condominium, and he could smell spaghetti as soon as he stepped inside. He dropped his bag by the door and walked towards the kitchen, seeing Chelsea standing at the stove, stirring what he assumed was spaghetti sauce. She must have felt his eyes on her because she turned around, the spoon still in her hand. “Hey Brent,” she smiled. “I made dinner,” she said, pointing towards the pans on the stove. “I just wanted to apologize for this morning, for acting the way I did,” she said, putting the spoon down and walking towards him.

“I’m sorry, too,” Brent told her. “I just don’t want to see anything happen to you. And, if getting a bone marrow transplant from Taryn is the way to keep you healthy, then I want to do everything in my power to make sure that it goes well. And, I think that that means that you should call her.”

“Brent, you’ve got to see things from my point of view, though,” Chelsea said. “I haven’t seen her in ten years. And, the last time I talked to her, she didn’t want anything to do with me. You can’t expect me just to call her out of the blue and ask for a bone marrow transplant,” she told him. “Brent, I’ve already told you why I’m so scared. I know that she’s my best shot at this working if we do have to resort to it. I want to have hope going in there. If I call her now and she turns me down, then I won’t even have a little bit of hope. I need that hope,” she told him.

“I get it,” Brent told her. “And, I’ll try to respect your decision and not hassle you anymore. Chels, you know I love you, and I just want you to be okay. I’m going to admit it, I’m scared,” he told her, and Chelsea quickly looked up at him, never hearing him talk about his fears before. “I’m scared of what’s going to happen. If you don’t make it or something goes wrong, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Brent, you’ve got to keep the faith,” Chelsea told him. “And, in the meanwhile, can we not talk about this? It’s getting too depressing for me. Let’s just eat a nice meal,” she smiled at him.

“Spaghetti,” Brent said, walking over to the stove and looking at the pans on top of it. “This looks amazing,” he smiled.

“Thanks,” Chelsea told him. “Can you take it into the dining room?” she asked.

Brent nodded his head, grabbing the pan and a potholder and walking towards the table.

***

Chelsea continued tossing and turning as she glanced at the clock on the bedside stand to see it read 3:30. She flipped back over, sighing to herself. She had been trying to go to sleep since midnight, and yet, her mind had been racing, and she hadn’t been able to fall asleep yet. She started her chemotherapy today, and she was extremely nervous about it. She turned back over so she was facing Brent. She watched as his chest rose up and down slowly, and she knew she was going to miss just falling asleep next to him for the next few nights as she had to stay in the hospital.

The doctor had informed her that they were going to keep her in the hospital for the first two days while she was undergoing chemotherapy in order to make sure all was going well. She had tried to resist, but Dr. Stewarts had insisted that it was for her own health. He had made it a point to tell her that any of her friends and family could come visit her whenever they wanted.

She flipped over once again, wishing she could just fall asleep. “Chels, are you still up?” she heard Brent speak, and it was evident in his voice that he was exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” Chelsea apologized. “I just can’t sleep. I think I’m just going to go to the living room and watch some tv or something,” she said, stripping the sheets off of her and getting out of bed.

She walked out to the living room and got comfortable on the couch. She pulled off the afghan that sat on the back of it and put it over her, flipping through the channels, trying to find something that would put her to sleep. Moments later, Brent walked out, wearing just his boxers. He lifted her legs up and sat down, placing her feet in his lap. “Do you want to talk about tomorrow?” he asked, referring to the start of her chemotherapy. He knew she was scared about it, not that he could blame her. “Maybe it’ll help,” he told her.

“I’ll be fine,” she told him. “You can go back to sleep.”

“No,” he replied. “Chelsea, let’s talk about the chemotherapy. What’s going through your mind right now?” he inquired.

“I’m wondering what happens if the chemo doesn’t work,” she answered honestly. “I’m wondering if I’m going to die.”

“You’re not going to die,” Brent said.

“Brent, you don’t know that,” she told him. “I could die any day now. No one knows.”

“You’re not going to die,” he repeated emphatically.

“It’s a possibility,” she argued. “What happens if I do?”

“Why are we even talking about this?” he asked, wanting to end this conversation immediately. “You’re not going to die, and that’s that.”

“What if I do?” Chelsea persisted.

“You can’t,” Brent told her, looking into her eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone.”

“You’d move on,” Chelsea said casually.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Brent, come on, of course you’d move on. I’d expect you to move on,” she told him.

“Can we stop talking about this? Please, Chelsea,” he begged.

“You asked what was going through my mind, and that’s what’s going through my mind,” she said defensively.

“I don’t even want to think about you dying, though,” Brent told her. “I love you too much to lose you.”

“It’s still a possibility,” she repeated.

“Chelsea,” he said in a warning tone, and she knew he didn’t want to even think about the possibility, let alone talk about it.

“Okay, I’ll stop talking about it,” she told him, grabbing the remote and flipping through the channels, stopping on an infomercial, hoping that it would put her to sleep.