It would be another several hours before Casey's condition changed enough to show whether he'd been wrong again. Foreman realized for the first time that he was worn out. A headache pulsed in his temples, and his stomach was rumbling. He smiled as best he could at Mr. Alfonso and told him he'd be back soon. When he was finally free of the room, he leaned back against the wall, out of sight of Casey's bed.

Appeasing Amber probably wouldn't work. Foreman tipped his head back against the wall, feeling so exhausted from fighting every inch of the way that it was the only thing holding him up. She'd thought she had the answer, and if his test results hadn't been just as strong as hers--and the treatment less likely to harm Casey in the long run--then he'd have to concede he'd been wrong again. He would have. He was strong enough to give in when he was wrong. Hadn't he shown that enough today? But Amber hated being wrong just as much as he did. And when he'd asked for her support...it had come out more like demanding, because of how pissed off he'd been. He sighed. If she could just understand what he was going through, she wouldn't blame him for making the tough choices.

Foreman picked out his phone and sent her a quick message--cafeteria? He was hungry, so she must be. It felt like they'd been at this all day already, and they might as well eat while they could. The cafeteria wasn't exactly private, but they could get a booth and try to talk to each other as well as get a meal. Foreman headed in that direction. Whether she agreed to join him or not, he wasn't going to forgo lunch, or whatever meal time it was by now, in case he had to skip eating later.