Dr. Landers leaves to check on his next patient, and when we’re alone, Hannah’s watery eyes drift up to mine. The conflict and emotion swirling in them breaks my heart, even though I don’t have a clue what it’s about. I reach for her hand again, massaging her knuckles with my thumb.

“Hannah… what’s happening? Whatever it is, please, just tell me. Not knowing what’s going on is eating me alive.”

She starts crying softly, then angrily wipes the tears away with the back of her free hand and throws her hands in the air in frustration.

“I don’t know. That’s part of the problem!” she blurts, then crumples and starts crying again, burying her face in her hands.

Watching her cry, witnessing her pain like this, makes my heart feel like it’s being ripped from my chest. I can’t stand it, and I don’t know what else to do, so I wrap my arms around her and hold her close to me. She keeps crying, her body shaking against mine, and I can’t even put into words how helpless I feel. Everything has spun completely out of my control, and I don’t know what to do.

All I know is that I want her to stop hurting. And I’d do anything, give anything, to make that happen.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper into her hair. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Hannah cries until there’s nothing left, her body gradually stilling against mine. She finally pulls away a little, her breathing ragged as she attempts to wipe her face with the back of her hand. The tears have left her makeup in ruins, dark smudges beneath her eyes that somehow make her look even more fragile.

I rub her shoulder, my throat tight. “You can tell me, even if you don’t have the full answer yet. Whatever this is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Her expression twists like she’s going to start crying again, and although she lets out a few strangled sounding sobs, she holds herself together and wipes her face with her hand again, shaking her head.

“I don’t know what it is. I really don’t. For all I know, it could be nothing.” She trails off, watching my face carefully as if there’s more she wants to say but isn’t sure she should. Finally, she sighs and bites her lip, then looks over at the monitor set up beside her bed. “But it could also be a brain tumor.”

“What?”

The whole world seems to screech to a halt around me and time instantly stops. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. A million or more possibilities have been racing through my head ever since she collapsed at the arena, but not this.