Undauntable

Deserved the truth

“Bailey, Wes, it’s nice to officially meet you,” the thirteenth doctor of this journey offered a warm smile that felt forced. Her face was pulled too tight. The lines beneath her eyes told the story that she does this day in and day out, but her eyes don’t hold the same story.

She’s seen heartbreak, loss. She’s seen the same things I’ve seen for the last year, but on a daily basis.

But none of that matters to me, because the look in her eyes right now tells me that she doesn’t have good news.

News that will send another crack into the foundation that Wes and I stand upon. Another disappointment to add to my belt.

Wes reaches over, grasping my hand, but I can’t feel his warmth. I can’t feel anything at all. No sparks. No hope. Nothing.

He squeezes my hand within his, as if he needs me to do the same, so I do.

I’d do anything for Wes.

That’s why I’m here at all.

“I’ve reviewed everything that was sent over from your previous doctors,” Dr. Annika looks between us before continuing, “You two have been on quite the journey over the past year?”

I just stared forward, waiting on her to continue. My throat felt as if it had swelled shut. Was that a question? Was she expecting a response?

Wes cleared his throat, “Yes,” I turned towards him as he continued, “We’re both really hoping that you’ll give us some better news.”

False hope will kill you, Wes. It’s already taken me, but you’re not ready to let go.

The doctor's lips curled into another smile I assume she’s conditioned herself to offer, “Well, given your previous testing and surgeries, I won’t lie to you and say this will be easy. But,” she paused, smiling wider, “I don’t think anything is impossible.”

Wes released a weighted breath, “That’s ama...” I cut him off, “I want a percentage.”

His head snapped towards me, eyes wide. This was another doctor who would give him false hope. He’d hang on that possibility like a lifeline. We’d spend another year of heartbreak on a journey with no end.

Dr. Annika frowned, “I don’t like to speak in percentages,” her dark brows furrowed, “Anything is possible if we want it enough.”

I barked out a laugh, “Is that so?”

“Bailey,” Wes growled under his breath.

“No," I held up my hand towards him, "So what you’re saying is that when I sat on the bathroom floor, covered in my own blood the first time, that it was because I didn’t want it enough? Or how about the second time... While I was watching crimson red blend with water and go down the f*****g bathtub drain that I didn’t want it enough?”

I pinned her with widened eyes. I probably looked like a woman gone crazy, but I couldn’t care, “I want to know what YOU think the percentage is. What is the likelihood that I can conceive and what is the likelihood that I carry to term.”

At some point I’d stood from my chair, releasing Wes’ hand in the process.

The doctor sighed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and pulling out the file, “I’d say that you and your mate have about twenty percent chance of conceiving,” she paused, laying the file on the desk and removing her glasses, “But only a two percent chance of carrying to term. The odds aren’t in your favor, but there are things we can do to increase the chances. A few drugs that we’ve not tried. Continued injections. They all would move those odds in the right direction.”

“Two percent,” I whispered under my breath.

The rest of the visit crawled at a snail's pace. I remember hearing Wes ask questions, but I can’t remember what he’d asked. I don’t remember how the doctor responded or if I was even breathing.

Wes placed his hand against the small of my back as I walked mindlessly to the pharmacy.

Again, his mouth moved, distant sounds filled my ears, but the words jumbled together. It felt like I was living in a haze.

The ride home was quiet. I could feel so many emotions through our bond that I’d put the block up. If I could feel everything he was feeling; he could feel the same in return from me.

I’m tired. So f*****g tired.

As soon as we made it through the front door, Wes opened and closed his mouth as if he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say.

“I don’t understand what happened back there, Bailey. Explain it to me. Please,” he sounded as exhausted as I felt.

“Is it so wrong for me to want someone to lay it out exactly as it is? All of the fluffy words and talk about medications only hides the truth.”

“For me, anything we do is better than doing nothing. Can’t you see that?” Wes whispered. His hand rubbed over his face as he stared at me.

I want to tell him that I’m done. That I don’t want to keep doing this to myself. To him. But I can’t. I see it in his eyes. He still sees that two percent as a chance for him to have the family he’s always dreamed of.

But all I can see is that I’m not enough just as I am.

If we were meant to have a pup together, it would happen. Without all of the medications. Without the heartbreak. Without making me feel like I wasn’t good enough.

“I’m trying my best, Wes. This is exhausting. Physically and mentally. You know I would do anything for you.”

His face contorted into a look of pain, “Is this not what you want?”

Swallowing hard, I realized the mistake I’d made with my words, “I want a life with you and everything that comes with it. I’m just tired.”

“It feels like you’ve given up,” he walked over, sitting on the couch and leaning forward with his head in his hands.

Because I have.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m going to the appointments. I’m taking all of the meds,” I took a deep breath, “I’m just tired of letting you down. Tired of letting myself down.”

“Come here,” Wes whispered, giving me a sad smile.

I moved closer and he reached out, pulling me into his lap. I leaned against his chest as he soothingly ran his hand over my hair, “I’m sorry that this isn’t easier for you. I wish I could take it all away.”

“I know,” the words left my lips in a choked whisper as tears burned my eyes.

I felt his lips press against the top of my head. Moments like this make me miss what we used to have. Before life got in the way. Before the future loomed over our heads like a ticking time bomb.

“Let me make dinner and then I’ll help you with the shots,” he pressed another lingering kiss to my head before scooping me up and laying me on the opposite end of the couch.

Why can’t I just tell him how I feel?

He deserves my honesty, but I don’t think that I can break his heart.

The ceiling loomed over me as I stared at it in a sort of catatonic state. The smell of food made me feel nauseated. Nothing sounded good except for a run. I needed to run. My body itched to feel the wind lash against my skin. I needed to experience the burn in my muscles from pushing myself too far.

The two of us ate in silence while I contemplated slipping out after dinner.

Wes cleaned up the plates, walking back with a glass of water in one hand and a syringe in the other.

I stared at the needle, and then Wes, who stared at me lovingly. My sacrifices didn’t go unnoticed. I think that’s why it was so hard for me to tell him the truth.

Wes was everything a mate should be and more. He deserved the truth.

He deserved to know that I was going to open that letter. And if it was what I think it is.

He deserves to know that I'm going to walk away from it all.

Lifting my shirt, I blinked away tears, gritting my teeth instead. All for him. All for that two percent.

My muscles would burn, just not in the way I wanted.