Page 32 of Unraveled

He didn’t speak for a moment and then murmured, “You’re wrong, you know.”

My brow arched up. “I’m wrong about what?”

“My favorite body part. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but the truth?”

My mother’s voice cut through the moment. It was getting closer, but I overheard my brother telling her to give me another minute. Naturally, she was ignoring him.

“Tell me.”

He turned to see my parents coming in but leaned down to my ear to whisper, “I’m much more of an ass man. And you have the best one I’ve ever seen.”

My grin was the stupid, silly kind. So much so that my mother didn’t even irritate me with her intrusion.

“Who is this?”

Kellan squeezed my hand while giving my mother a dazzling smile. “Mrs. Olson, I doubt you remember me, but I went to college with Russ. I’m Kellan. Kellan McNeal. You had me over for dinner on a few occasions back then.”

My mother glanced between us, the wheels in her mind clearly turning frantically. “I—yes. Kellan. Nice to see you again. What is it you’re doing here exactly?”

“I’m here to see Layla, of course. Don’t mean to intrude on family time, but I wanted to ensure I got to see her before the surgery.”

I could tell she wanted to ask a million questions, but surprisingly, she held her tongue.

“Mom, Dad, Russ, can you give me a few minutes with Kellan, please?” I asked.

My mother opened her mouth to protest my request, but Russ, bless him, took her arm. “Come on, Mom, Dad. Let’s get some coffee and then we’ll come back.”

“But I need to be sure I see her right before she goes in.”

“I promise I won’t go into surgery before saying goodbye, okay?”

She sniffed. “Fine. But I want to speak with your surgeon. I have some questions.”

Of course she did. As much as I wanted to roll my eyes, I had to remember she was anxious and nervous because she loved me. “I’ll tell him.”

“Okay. We’ll be back. Again.”

As soon as they left, I let out a long breath of relief and my gaze met Kellan’s. “I appreciate you coming by, but—”

He cut me off. “No. This wasn’t just to come by and say, hey, sorry about the breast cancer. Take care now.”

“Then what is it?”

He gripped the back of his neck, seemingly struggling with his next words.

I decided to let him off the hook. “Never mind. I know this news took you off guard. You don’t need to answer that.”

He sighed. “I’m processing. It’ll sound screwed up if I say I’m glad you’re not leaving town for a year because it would imply I’m happy about you being in this hospital bed. Which I’m not.”

But this was a scenario neither of us would’ve preferred. By “processing,” I figured he was realizing that dating me wouldn’t work.

“At least with you staying in town, we have the chance to still see one another.”

I was already shaking my head. “No. You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“This thing between us was my last hurrah before the reality came crashing down.”