Chapter 17One year later
It was a waiting room just like any other waiting room in any other hospital, complete with uncomfortable chairs and a television hanging from the ceiling, showing an old black-and-white movie.
Completely unremarkable. And very significant.
Asher and I were the only occupants. Huddled close, with hands clasped and thighs touching, we tried to stay calm. There was no cause for worry.
Right?
His frantic finger-drumming on his thigh and the sharp pinches to my earlobe told an entirely different story.
One year ago, Pops had had his last treatment with the new drug. Over the months, his doctor had gone from weary to cautiously optimistic. I’d never met a more pessimistic medical professional than Dr. Green, who refused to take out even the smallest victory in adv
