* * *
Slater holds my hand during the procedure, his eyes never leaving mine. He brushes away the tears that drip down my face when the needle is inserted into my back and drags his thumb over my hand when I grimace about the weird pulling sensation from the marrow being drawn out. The procedure only takes fifteen minutes, so I chose not to have a sedative. They always make me drowsy, and I would have been required to stay at the office for several hours after the procedure. Slater only has the next two days off before a week of concerts, so I don’t want to spend half of our day hanging around a doctor’s office.
“Make sure you take these pain pills every four hours for the next two days,” Dr. Webster instructs while handing me a prescription for pain relief. “I should have your results back in a week. If it’s sooner, I’ll call you.”
Slater and I thank Dr. Webster with a shake of our hands before walking to the town car waiting for us downstairs. Slater remains quiet the entire trip back to our hotel. He doesn’t even flinch when the paparazzi asks him crude questions in an attempt to pry a reaction out of him.
The ride in the elevator is the quietest we’ve ever made. Electricity is still crackling between us, but it isn’t the only thing cracking—so is my heart. When we enter our suite, Slater releases my hand so he can hightail it to the liquor cabinet to pour a double shot of whiskey. He downs the generous helping in one gulp before pouring another.
No longer able to hold in my tears, they freely stream down my face. “Please don’t do this.” My voice is as pained as my heart feels.
When Slater pivots to face me, fear clutches my chest. His eyes are full to the brim with salty moisture.
“You know what it was like for Serena, so please don’t treat me how everyone treated her.”
The past few months have been perfect. Not once did he treat me like I was a fragile flower that might break at any moment. I loved that about him, but when I look at him now, all I see is fear reflecting back at me. I promised him I wouldn’t run without saying goodbye, but I never promised I’d stand by and watch a disease destroy the man I love. I’m no longer concerned about what this disease could do to me; I’m concerned about what it will do to him.
After watching a tear careen down my cheek, Slater sets his glass down so roughly, it nearly cracks. He murmurs a curse word under his breath before he strides to me so quickly, he creates a ripple in the air. He engulfs me in his arms, lifting me off the ground in one fluid movement. When his delicious mouth encloses over mine, his tongue delves inside, sampling and tasting every inch. The intoxicating mix of whiskey with the salt of my tears flavors our kiss. It fuses my heart back together before lowering its pulse to a much lower region.
By the time he finishes devouring my mouth, my tears have dried, and my panties are soaked. He pulls back from our embrace with a curse word similar to the one he used to start it, his eyes wide with panic. “Shit, did I hurt you?”
His kiss was so intoxicating, I didn’t endure even the slightest ping of the pain I felt earlier. It was too scrumptious to be painful. When I shake my head, he kisses the corner of my mouth before sitting on the sofa. A moan topples from my lips as I straddle his lap. His erection is straining against his zipper, proving he finds me as attractive now as he did last week—thank goodness!
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear before raising his eyes to mine. “I’m sorry, baby.” The painful glint in his eyes shifts to forgiveness. “I’m just…scared.” His last word is barely a whisper.
“I know. So am I.” I’m not scared of being sick again. I’m scared of hurting him. “But I’m still me. I’m still the same Kylie who went skydiving with you last month.” The corners of his mouth tug higher. “I’m still the same Kylie you had sex with in your elevator.” His lips curve into a full grin as he bucks his hips like a wild stallion. “And I’m still the same Kylie who’s planning to get you into a pair of the tiniest swim trunks you’ve ever seen on a beach in Fiji.”
When he chuckles a full, boisterous laugh, it proves without a doubt, even if I am sick again, I’ll do everything in my power to stay with him.
I’ll fight until my very last breath.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Slater
Idid exactly what I said I wouldn’t do when I suspected Kylie was sick again. I treated her differently, like she’s fragile and could break at any moment. I remember how much Serena hated being coddled, yet I still did it to Kylie. I panicked, and I fucked up, but in my defense, I’m scared out of my fucking mind I’m about to lose her. The fear is real. It keeps me awake because I can’t stop thinking about the next steps we will have to take if her tests come back against us.
To everyone, it seems as if my fear has diminished the past few days. Only I know it hasn’t. I’ve just hidden it. I mask my feelings by acting like everything is okay, even though I’m dying on the inside. I’ve called Dr. Webster every day the past three days requesting Kylie’s results. Every day he assures me they should be arriving soon. I really hope they do because I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up with this charade.
I don’t think Kylie has noticed, but every time I make love to her, my eyes aren’t just roaming over her body in appreciation, they’re actively seeking additional bruises. Serena’s first symptom was a large bruise she got on her forearm from me. We were playing catch in the yard, and when she missed one of my curve balls, it hit her in her arm. The bruise was huge and lasted for days. Mom took her to the doctor the following week when it didn’t go down. That started the process of her diagnosis.
Serena was taken from our family so quickly because it had formed in her liver and spleen by the time she was diagnosed. She did chemotherapy and radiation, even knowing she was only delaying the inevitable, but it gave her additional weeks to say her goodbyes. It wasn’t enough as far as I’m concerned.
“Fifteen minutes until show time.”
When Kylie’s head pops into the dressing room I share with Marcus, I try to mask the look of worry on my face. My endeavor comes too late; she’s already seen it.
She hesitantly walks into the room, passing Marcus as he exits. After straddling my lap, she undoes the top three buttons on her dress. I shake my head, horrified she’s been using sex to subdue my panic the past three days but aware my cock will never be able to refuse her.
“If we had longer than fifteen minutes, I’d cross number 199 off our list. But since we only have fifteen minutes, repayment number 183 will have to do.”
As she slips off my lap to kneel before me, I stroke her jaw, preparing it for the stretch it’s about to endure. “Are you sure you'll be able to fully cross it off inonlyfifteen minutes?” The cheekiness in my tone hides the hammering of my heart.
She giggles while locking her eyes with mine. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. And she’s not the faintest bit scared about having ALL again. She amazes me every day with how unbelievably strong she is.
“I think I’ll have you done with a few minutes to spare.”
From the fire in her eyes, I’m certain she’ll meet her target.
