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"Eleven."

"Someone coming with you?"

"No. It's routine. Not a big deal." Her words are rote, like she's reading off a piece of paper. "I should be fine. Odds are good. Better than good. Ninety-five percent chance. More even."

"You're allowed to be scared about unlikely things."

"Maybe. It feels like… I didn't ask Dad or Gia to come because I knew how that would go. I knew they'd keep reciting the party line. It's going to be fine. You'll be fine. Odds of developing breast cancer after a double mastectomy are almost nothing. And then… I don't know."

"You want to tell them to fuck off."

"Kinda, yeah." She laughs. "But I know they're trying to help."

"They want to help."

She nods.

"Maybe you need to let them know how."

"Maybe." She stares back into my eyes. "You're smarter than you let on."

"Wiser maybe. But not smarter."

"Both."

"I…" I bite my tongue. Hesitation isn't me. But this… fuck, this might be the most I've ever asked of anyone. Or the most I've ever offered of myself. "I want to come with you tomorrow."

Surprise streaks her expression. "You do?"

"Yeah."

"You'll mostly sit in the waiting room."

"I don't care."

"I…"

"You can tell me to fuck off if you want."

"No… I… you have to promise you won't mention the odds."

My lips curl into a smile.

"What?"

"I knew you had a thing for scoundrels."

Her brow knits with confusion.

"That's Han Solo's famous line."

"Oh. Yeah. But his is about how he doesn't want to hear bad odds."

"Still."

"I guess I do have a thing for scoundrels." She runs her fingers through my hair. "Since I'm here begging you to fuck me."

"Sweet talk isn't going to get you anywhere."

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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