After gathering my bag, I make my way out of the cabin, my heart breaking more with every step I take. . .
Slater releases a deep, harsh breath, like someone just punched him in the stomach when I confess, “I was first diagnosed with ALL when I was thirteen.” My scratchy voice reveals the barrage of emotions I was hammered with while reflecting back on my memories. “The second time was two months before we went to the cabin.”
When Slater’s fists clench so fast, the air ripples, I drop my eyes to his chest, unable to maintain his eye contact. I don’t need to see him to feel his anger, though. I hear it in his hissed words. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer him. It’s for the best. He’s too worked up to process facts over fear right now anyway. He paces back and forth while struggling to figure out if he’s pissed or devastated. He could possibly be a bit of both.
“I would have been there for you!” The veins in his fists bulge with every word he speaks. “Icouldhave been there for you!”
He stops pacing when I murmur, “That’s why I didn’t tell you. I loved you, and I was reasonably sure you loved me too, but our relationship was about fun and adventure. It wasn’t about hospital visits and doctor’s appointments. And it most certainly wasn’t about death. I was petrified, Slater. Not just about dying, but losing you as well. Every week I convinced myself I either had to tell you the truth or give you up, and every weekend, my heart overruled my head. You can’t deny what your heart wants, and my heart wanted you more than anything in the world.”
When I lock my eyes with Slater’s, the pain darkening his breaks my heart. I hate seeing him so vulnerable, but it doesn’t change my viewpoint. There are so many things I wish I could go back and change, but this isn’t one of them. I’m disgusted at myself for the cowardly way I left, but I’ll never regret my decision. Slater deserved the world—even if it meant I couldn’t be a part of it.
“When I found out about Serena, I realized how selfish I had been keeping my sickness from you, but I also knew I couldn’t put you through that type of heartache again.”
“That wasn’t your choice to make, Kylie.” He clenches and unclenches his fists as he fights to ignore the moisture teeming in his eyes. “That wasn’t your fucking choice.”
“You would have given it all away. Everything you and the band had worked for, you would have left it all behind.” He shakes his head, denying my claims, but I don’t back down. “Yes, you would have! But I refused do that to you, Slater. I loved you too much to make you face that type of heartache again.”
The pain in his eyes when he talked about his sister was all the proof I needed that he would have given up everything to stay with me while I battled through my illness, but I couldn’t do that to him. I loved him too much. It killed me walking away from him how I did, but it was the right thing to do. He had worked too hard for too long to give up his dreams, so I made a decision for the both of us—the right decision.
“You can hate me for what I did, for how I walked away, but don’teverbelieve I intentionally set out to hurt you. That wasnevermy intention.”
“I don’t hate you.” His voice is less brittle than it was earlier, but ten times more gravelly. “I love you, Kylie. I have since the day you walked into the Bar N Barrel.”
“Then you know why I had to do what I did? Why I had to put you above me?”
I choke back a sob when he nods. It isn’t a confident nod, but it’s still a nod nonetheless.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Slater
Iswear my cock notices Kylie entering the room before my brain registers it. When I adjust my crotch, wordlessly warning him to calm the fuck down, Kylie friskily winks before following Emily to the far back corner of the meet and greet room. This meet and greet has been going for nearly three hours, and I’m dying to get out of here. My hands aren’t just sore from drumming for two hours straight, they’re aching from signing so many autographs. I need someone to invent some sort of contraption that can sign on my behalf because this shit is getting old real quick. I’ll forever love our fans, but I’m a drummer, not a writer, so I’m more than happy to leave the writer’s cramp to them.
Things have been great between Kylie and me the past few weeks. Actually, it’s better than great. It’s fucking perfect.She’s perfect.The only low point was when she told me she had ALL—not once, but twice.
It killed me knowing she kept that from me. The night she confessed guttered me so much, I struggled to hold in my tears. I don’t cry; I never cry, not even when my sister died, but when Kylie said she had the same disease that snatched Serena from my family way too early, I couldn’t stop tears from forming. Just the thought of losing Kylie scared the shit out of me.It still does.
I was deceitful when I said I wouldn’t have given everything up. I would have given it all away in an instant when I found out she was sick. There was no way I would have gone on the road for weeks at a time, leaving her at home sick and alone. I would have never done that to her. I fell in love with her from the moment I saw her. She was all I ever wanted, and she would have always been my number one priority. So as much as it hurt that she made the decision for me, I understand why she did it. She did it to save me, so even though I really wish she would have saved us, I also understand how different my life would be if she had done that.
Some good came from our heart to heart. I got to tell Kylie that I love her. She was shocked but aware I didn’t say it because I felt forced. I said it because I truly mean it. After she left me, I realized how stupid I had been letting my ex control how my feelings. I didn’t know what love truly meant until I met Kylie, so I won’t go another day without telling her what she means to me. I’ll tell her I love her until she’s sick of hearing it, then I'll tell her some more.
Kylie was open and honest with me last week, so I’ve been trying to do the same ever since. She’s being sly by using the trick I used on her against me. Any time I try to bring up the past, she sexually tortures me until my cock overrules my head.
“It’s in the past; can’t we just leave it there?” she continues to quote.
One day my cock won’t be so mesmerized by her, and I’ll have the chance to explain all the shit I’ve done the past few years.
Ha! Who the fuck am I kidding?My cock will never get enough of her.
I chuckle to myself while signing a final concert poster for a fan. After handing it back to her, I stand from my seat, eager to stretch my legs since I’ve been sitting for the past several hours.
She squeals loud enough for three states over to hear before hugging the poster close to her barely covered chest. “Thank you so much! I’m a huge fan—your number one fan.”
“That’s great to hear. Thanks for coming to our show.”
The blonde flutters her eyelashes as she twirls a piece of hair around her index finger.
