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Because she’d been crying.
Dry trails ran down both of her freckled cheeks. They were long dry like she’d cried when we’d first left but hadn’t bothered doing it after that. I felt socked, physically ill, and the urge to reach out, bring her to me…
She wet her flushed lips. “When did you ask Anton to take your case?”
I wasn’t surprised she was asking me this. My brain had had time to think of a lot of questions she’d ask, and this was one of them.
Either way, it wasn’t easy to answer, and how I wanted to bring her to me. The physical need to comfort her burned my arms, but I fought it. “Shortly after I was diagnosed the second time.”
In fact, it was right after. It was when I’d confirmed my life was going to change, and I couldn’t do this by myself. I’d done my research. I knew Fawn’s stepdad was the best, and if I had any chance of getting that thing out of me, it would have been with his help. I’d have survived because he was the best.
That hadn’t been how it had happened. Dr. Weber had rejected my case, and now, I knew why. I actually thought back then he was some shallow fake fuck of a doctor who didn’t truly care about patients anymore. That he cared more about being on TV than helping people. My case was fucked, but I’d seen the kinds of surgeries he’d performed. He could have done it.
At least, I’d thought he could have.
How wrong I’d been about him. He’d looked into me after everything, made sure I was good. I believed I’d been nothing but a case file to him, a distraction away from his TV appearances, but that hadn’t been the case at all.
If I hadn’t felt physically ill already, nauseous. The sickness only charged more violent with the way Fawn looked at me after what I said. She cringed like I struck her, and the bile rose in my throat. “Baby…”
The word only caused her to wince. Her body locked up, and I felt socked again.
“You said you used me,” she said, shaking her head. “You weren’t just talking about your family, were you?”
“Fawn—”
She rose up off the door, short puffs of breaths leaving her lips. It was getting so cold in the truck again. So very cold. “You asked me if I understood. You said you used me and asked if I understood.” She swallowed. “It wasn’t just for your family, was it? Us?” Her throat jumped. “Anton rejected your case and what? You thought I could help?”
Something like that. In fact, exactly like that.
My lack of words told her all the answers, and I watched the girl I love cringe again. She’d put it all together, so fucking smart, my girl.
I felt that slipping away too, her being mine, and I had to knuckle my hands not to touch her. My nails dug into my palms so hard I believed they’d bleed.
They might, and Fawn placed her own palms to her eyes.
“You said you wanted us to be friends,” she stated, saying words I’d said, and at the time, I’d meant them. I had wanted to be her friend. She glanced up at me. “You wanted to get close to me, right? Close to me so I’d talk to him?”
Her voice broke, and with it, my resolve. I pushed off the door, and though she was still shaking her head, I put my hands on her cheeks. “Baby, I didn’t…” I mean, what could I say? She’d figured it out. She truly knew how fucked up I was now, sick. I pressed my forehead to hers. “I didn’t mean for things to be like this.”
I had tried to end things between us. I’d tried to so many fucking times, but I was weak. Selfish.
She gasped in my arms. Her fists balled, and she pressed them into my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me this last year? When you said you used me, why didn’t you tell me this?”
Because that was more of my weakness. I’d tried to let Fawn go initially when things had gone too far. When she’d told me she loved me…
I had tried to let her go then. I had, but I’d gotten weak and selfish again. I had taken her in more stolen moments, but I had sobered up. I’d told her I used her for my family, which had been true as well.
But it hadn’t been the only reason.
Me almost using her for a connection to her stepdad had been a worse reason and one I’d known would break her. It would hurt her even worse than I was already hurting her the weekend she’d asked me to be her assistant. Back then, I hadn’t seen the point in more hurt. Not when I was going to let go of her...
That hadn’t been how it had played out, though. It hadn’t been because she’d fought me. She had with her spirit and love, and I had broken. I couldn’t hurt her for another reason.
And it had nothing to do with her.
I pushed my hands into her hair, looking at her. She appeared so fragile. Like she would break with my next words. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
The truth was sobering. It sobered me, and it most certainly sobered her. Her nostrils flared, and her tears fell in front of me.
