“So, what? He’s just…he’s… Are you saying he’s terminal?” I asked, terrified of the answer.

  “It doesn’t look good,” he said. “But I wouldn’t call him terminal yet. Like I said, his body isn’t declining, and as long as we can keep him that way, it buys us time to find a bone marrow match.”

  That seemed really ironic to me. Eighty thousand people registered to be bone marrow donors when Hart to Heart had done the nationwide stadium events. Matches were being made all over the place. Even Mason Hayes matched someone and was doing further testing to make sure his donation was a go.

  Only Jaxon wasn’t one of the lucky ones. He had zero matches out of all those people. There were still more applications that had to be processed because of the huge influx of people. But the chances were slim at this point, and we all knew it.

  “How much time will it buy us?” Addison asked.

  “I don’t know the answer to that,” the doctor answered. “The way the leukemia has spread…I don’t like it. But as long as his body is maintaining where it’s at, I’m cautiously optimistic.”

  He stopped and let us process all the information he’d just given us.

  The leukemia has spread.

  Cautiously optimistic.

  It was a lot of conflicting information, but at least it wasn’t all bad news.

  “What about cord blood?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” Addison asked me, but I kept looking at Dr. Bates.

  “Siblings have a better chance of matching bone marrow than anyone else, right? I know this baby is only a half brother, but what if his cord blood could be used?”

  “Sounds like you’ve been doing your research,” Kristina, our research nurse, said as she walked in the door. “Sorry I’m late. I was stuck on the phone.”

  “There’s not a whole lot to do around here,” I said. “So I started looking into other possible options. What can I say? I was bored and desperate to help.”

  “Well, it’s funny you should mention it,” she said as she pulled up a chair and sat down.

  “Why is it funny I mentioned that?” I asked. “You’ve thought about cord blood, too, haven’t you?”

  “I have. But I wanted to make sure I had all my ducks in a row before presenting the idea. Every patient is different, ya know, so I wanted to make sure it was a viable option.”

  “So wait,” Addison said, adjusting herself to a more comfortable position. “We’d use the cord blood for what? Instead of a bone marrow transplant?”

  “Essentially, yes.” Kristina shuffled through some papers as she spoke. “Assuming the cord blood was a close enough match to Jaxon, we’d do a cord blood transplant instead of a bone marrow transplant.”

  “Well, why haven’t we thought of this before?” Addison asked excitedly.

  “Because it’s not a mainstream treatment,” Kristina said. “Cord blood is still used on an experimental basis, and there are quite a few hoops that have to be jumped through before we can get legal clearance to do it. And that’s if it’s compatible with Jaxon’s body.”

  I felt Addison’s attitude deflate.

  “What kind of hoops?” I was willing to jump through anything if it gave Jaxon a shot.

  “I’m going to have to clear it with the Institutional Review Board and the CDC,” she explained. “That could take some time. I’ll have to pitch it to them as an experimental treatment and provide documentation that Jaxon is out of options and time. So it will be considered a ‘single patient access’ treatment.”

  “Assuming the cord blood is compatible with Jaxon’s body,” I said.

  “Assuming it’s compatible with Jaxon’s body,” she confirmed.

  I took a deep breath. “How long does it normally take for this review board and the CDC to decide?”

  “It can take a while. But that’s why I was on the phone,” she said excitedly. “I may have a contact at the CDC. It turns out, a college friend’s father is a higher up over there. Not as high as I’d like, but high enough that I can plead our case. And don’t be offended, but I’m going to play the celebrity card with him. If it works and I can get him to push our paperwork through to the next level quickly, I expect you to add a statement in all of your press releases about how pleased you are with how much they cared about your case.”

  Addison and I both nodded. “Of course. Whatever you want me to say. I can jump through that political hoop.”

  “Good. I’m going to get everything typed up and ready to go. I’ll run it through them before the baby is born so they are aware of what’s coming. The minute Baby Boy is here, we’ll be putting a rush order in to test that cord blood. Assuming it comes back compatible, the official request for experimental treatment will be faxed over that day.”

  I took a deep breath, sat up straight, and looked over at Addison. “How ya feeling about that?” I asked her. She looked like I felt…a little deer-in-the-headlights.

  “I think that’s a whole lot of things that have to fall into place all at once,” she said. “But it sounds like our best chance.”

  “I agree.”

  “Great,” Kristina said. “Obviously there’s going to be paperwork I will need you guys to sign. But in the meantime, I’m going to keep looking for other treatment options, and I’ll find you as soon as I need your signatures. Sound good?”

  “Yep,” I responded, at the same time Addison said, “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Kristina breezed out the door as quickly as she had arrived.

  “Did you know about this?” I asked Dr. Bates.

  “I knew she was working on it and researching what we needed,” he said with a smirk. “But she’s always researching options. Some of them work out. Some of them don’t. It’s best to let her break the news when it’s set in stone.” I nodded in understanding. “How’s the pregnancy going, anyway, Addison?”

  “Pretty miserable, actually,” she chuckled. “The magnesium to stop my labor makes me shaky almost all of the time. And lying flat twenty hours out of the day makes it very hard to read or watch TV. Not to mention it’s uncomfortable and obnoxious.”

  Dr. Bates smiled. “Yep. Women are definitely the tougher of the two sexes. Sometimes it takes situations like this to confirm that opinion.”

  “I agree,” I said. “She’s doing really great in here. I’m really proud of her for hanging in there.”

  She smiled over at me and laid her head back on the pillow. She looked exhausted. But I wasn’t sure if it was physically or mentally that was making her so tired.

  “Well, I’m going to head on out now,” Dr. Bates said, standing up and heading toward the door. “I’ll let you know if there are any major changes, Addison. But just know, Jason is doing a fine job of taking care of your boy. You can rest easy knowing that.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Bates,” she replied. “I knew I picked a good one.”

  He chuckled as he walked out the door. As he left, I turned to look my wife in the eyes and gauge how she was really feeling about the situation.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “There are so many ways to answer that. Not quite terminal. God, Jay, that scares me. Like, really scares me,” she said with tears in her eyes. “But then to know his body is fighting so hard makes me proud. And knowing we have this new option for treatment makes me feel hopeful. And knowing it’s almost our last remaining hope has me wanting to start eating organic or something. I know that sounds ridiculous,” she said sheepishly. “But I just feel this pressure to do everything right now. To make sure everything goes right with this pregnancy so we have the healthiest cord blood we can possibly have.”

  “You do realize either the cord blood is going to match or it’s not, right?” I put my hand on her face and rubbed my thumb over her cheek. “There’s nothing you could do or not do that will change that.”

  “I know.” She put her hand over mine. “I didn’t say it was a realistic feeling. Or rational. Maybe it’s more panic than anything.”

  I grabbed her chin between my fingers and thumb, and I leaned in to brush my lips across hers. “What can I do to make it better? What do you need from me?”

  She sighed. “Can you just climb in bed with me and hold me for a little while? I just need you to hold me. I miss you.”

  She scooted over slowly as I climbed on the bed with her, trying not to bump any wires or jar her any more than was necessary. It was slow going, and I was way too big for the bed. But we finally got situated with her back to my front, spooning. It was our favorite position, and I knew if the nurse didn’t kick me out of the bed soon, I’d probably fall asleep.

  We lay there quietly, just enjoying the feel of each other. I ran my hand over her ever-growing belly, thinking about my baby boy and wondering what he would be like. Would he look like me? Would he be smart? Or funny? Or athletic? The possibilities of who he would be were just endless, and it was kind of exciting to think about.

  All of a sudden, I felt a thump in her stomach. “What the hell was that?” I asked.

  Addison started giggling. “I think you just felt your first kick.”

  I kept my hand still when I felt it again. “Holy shit! Does he do that a lot?”

  “Usually at night he starts bumping around. I didn’t realize he was strong enough for you to feel it yet. But I guess the timing is about right.”

  I held my breath as he continued to kick around. Addison moved my hand anytime he rolled around somewhere else. It was the most amazing thing I had ever felt. “I think he’s gonna be a placekicker, Addison! He’s strong!”

  “Or a soccer player.”

  “Now that’s just not funny,” I said with a stern voice.

  She laughed. “He will be whatever he wants to be. He’s a Hart. They’re pretty stubborn.”

  I kissed her neck and breathed her in. “Yeah. We kind of are. And I’ll love him no matter what he decides to be.”

  He thumped around for a little while longer until, I guess, he finally fell asleep. I was so content in the moment and so comfortable with my arms around Addison, it wasn’t long before I fell asleep as well, proving there is truth to the phrase “like father, like son”. Yeah. This baby was definitely a Hart.

  Eight weeks. For eight weeks, Addison had been stuck in one wing of the hospital while Jaxon was stuck in another.

  Fifty-six days. For fifty-six days, I’d been trying my damnedest to hold it all together. I’d been going back and forth between rooms, sleeping on a cot-sized recliner, eating shitty hospital food, making all medical decisions, comforting them both.

  Three holidays. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Year’s. Split between the two of them. Trying to keep spirits up and show them a little bit of joy in this madness.

  I didn’t know how much longer I could hold myself together. One of them was trying not to die. The other was desperately trying to help someone new live. And I was stuck in the middle, trying not to crack.

  I was angry. So angry. At the doctors. At God. At myself. At both of them. There was no rational reason for me to be angry with anyone. Cancer happens. Pregnancy complications happen. But all of it at once…it was too much. And if I didn’t feel angry at someone, I’d fall into grief, and I didn’t have the luxury to do that.

  I took another deep breath as my head was in my hands, elbows on my knees. I’d been staring at a crack in the linoleum for a good while, but no matter how many breaths I took, I couldn’t seem to get the anger under control.

  Football had always been a stress reliever. Feel frustrated by everyday life? Take it out on the field. Get angry about the injustices of the world? Take it out on the field. Feel like your entire body is about to implode because you are stuck as the middleman between not one, but two impossibly stressful situations? Oh yeah…take a leave of absence so you have no outlet.

  Rationally, I knew there was no way I could work during all of this. But the angry part of me was pissed at myself for giving up my one outlet. The one thing I’d been using as a coping mechanism for all these years.

  I heard the door open but didn’t look up. I was still too angry at the world to care, and as mad as I was, I didn’t want to snap anyone’s head off. Especially Bri. She’d been great to all of us. But I was still mad at her for being able to go home at night and sleep in a real bed and eat real food and have a life outside this goddamn hospital.

  So it was better to not look up.

  “Jason, honey?”

  I really couldn’t look up now, knowing it was my mom. I couldn’t find any real reason to be mad at her except she wasn’t here as much as I was, and I was just mad at anyone who wasn’t here as much as I was. That didn’t mean I wanted her to see me like this, though.

  I felt her sit down in the chair next to me and rest her hand on my thigh.

  “Stop shaking.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if I stop, my entire insides are going to combust in one giant fireball of anger.”

  “Now, Jason,” she said calmly. “Don’t you think that’s just a tiny bit dramatic?”

  I blew out a breath and looked up at her. “I’m about to lose it, Mom. I don’t know what to do anymore. Where I’m supposed to be. Who I’m supposed to stay with. I know you and Rick and the rest of the family have been supportive, but I feel like I’m doing this on my own, and I’m about ready to say ‘fuck it’ and walk out on it all.”

  She began rubbing my back as she spoke. “Well, first of all, I know you aren’t going to walk out on your family. I know you better than that. But I do think you need to get out of this hospital for a while. Take a day for yourself. Go home. Shower. Sleep. Rest. You are physically and mentally exhausted.”

  “Oh yeah, so just leave my son who is…who is…who is sick, and my wife, who could go into early labor at any moment here, so I can go rest? I promised I’d stay with Jax. I promised her I wouldn’t leave him by himself. I can’t go back on that. You know this. We’ve talked about this.” It wasn’t the first time this conversation had come up in the last eight weeks.

  “Honey,” Mom said, looking at me like I wasn’t very smart. “Addison was panicking when she asked that of you. She was hormonal, scared for Jaxon, scared for the baby, scared for herself. She didn’t mean for you to be here twenty-four hours a day until she has this baby! She doesn’t want you to cause your own health to fail by running yourself into the ground.”

  “Ma,” I said, sitting back in my chair. I’m sure I looked as exhausted as I felt. “I can’t just leave him. Even if he’s not by himself. What if something happens? What if…what if…”

  “What if he takes a turn for the worse and you’re not here with him?” she asked, knowing exactly what I was trying to say. I nodded. “Then you’d get a phone call and you’d be back up here in a matter of minutes. Jason,” she said, shifting her body to look straight at me. “If the doctor thought Jaxon was going to pass away in the next few days, he would tell you. They don’t let that go willy-nilly. There are signs and things the body does that are clues the end is near. Yes, Jaxon is very, very sick. And yes, he may be dying. But he isn’t dying today. Or tomorrow, for that matter. And no one will fault you for getting a good night’s rest in a real bed so you can be strong again tomorrow.”

  I rubbed my hands down my face in frustration. “How the hell did this even happen, Ma? How did I get married and have a kid one second and the next they’re both hospitalized? What the hell did I ever do to deserve this kind of karma, huh? I can count the number of times I’ve slept in the same bed with my wife since we got married. Do you know what that feels like? I can’t go back to that house right now without them there. There’s nothing that would make me feel better right now, except maybe to punch God in the face.”

  “Jason Allen Hart, you stop that,” she admonished. “I know you are angry right now at everyone and everything. But you seem to forget that all of this is temporary. Temporary,” she emphasized. “Sooner or later, that baby is coming, and then Addison will be out of the hospital. Either Jaxon will get better or he won’t, and I’m praying he will, but you act like this limbo is the rest of your life! Yes, I know it’s hard right now. I know you miss football and your teammates and your workouts. You have run yourself into the ground and have resisted leaving this building for the last eight weeks, trying to keep a promise that you yourself exaggerated the meaning behind. But you are doing no one any good anymore by trying to shoulder it all yourself. So here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, grabbing her phone out of her purse. “We’re going to have a family meeting. All hands on deck. And you are not going to be spending every night in this hospital anymore. A few nights a week? Of course. But we’re setting up a schedule, and everyone will be helping out. Sound good?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t feel right not being here when my family was here and needed me, but I wasn’t doing them much good either. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to let go a little and trust that nothing major would happen without me.

  I nodded as she got to work, texting the entire family about the meeting we would be having in the great room down the hall.

  As I sat, still lost in thought, there was a soft knock at the door. Bri’s head popped in.

  “Hey Jason,” she said quietly, trying not to disturb Jax, who was napping. Again. “The maternity ward just called. You need to get up there.”

  I jumped to my feet, feeling the blood drain from my face. “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled at me. “Addison’s water broke. It’s time.”

  “But it’s too early,” I said, turning back to look at my mom, not quite sure what to do. “He’s not supposed to be here for seven more weeks. It’s too early!” I could feel the panic in my voice.