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Aine shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she whispered.
“I need to check your incision.” The doctor pulled the sheet and blanket away from her abdomen and moved the hospital gown out of his way. The area was covered by a bandage that he also removed.
Striker looked at Aine. Her eyes were closed, and a single tear ran down her cheek. He wished the doctor would hurry up so he could pull her into his arms and comfort her. He knew how much she wanted to have
children. It was one of the main reasons he’d ended things with her to begin with—he knew the risk was far too great for him to be the father.
His own heart had broken at the decision he’d come to; he knew full well how she must be feeling, hearing the doctor’s prognosis.
“We should have the results of the biopsy in the morning,” the doctor said as he recovered her wound.
“Biopsy?” Aine asked.
“I’m fairly sure the masses were all benign, but we’re running the tests anyway to be certain.”
When the doctor left, Aine removed her hand from Striker’s, adjusted the gown, and drew the sheet and blanket up. She pressed the pain button and closed her eyes.
“I need to talk to Ava,” she said, opening her eyes and looking for her phone.
“Would you like me to step out while you speak with her?”
She nodded.
“I’ll be right outside the door.”
“I’d rather you leave.”
He sat down on the side of her bed. “As I told you before, I’m not going anywhere.”
When he tried to take her hand again, she yanked it away and then winced with the pain the motion caused.
“I want to be alone,” she said, trying to blink away the tears brimming her eyelids.
“Call Ava and then we’ll talk.”
Before she could argue, Striker stood and walked out of the room.
Once the door closed behind him, he called Razor.
“What up?” he said, answering Striker’s call.
“Aine got some bad news. The doctor just told her he doesn’t think she’ll be able to have children.”
“Fuck,” Razor muttered. “I think Avarie’s talking to her now. She’ll want to come back over there.”
“I figured she would. Aine just told me she wants to be alone, but I’m not leaving. I’ll sit outside the door if my being in there agitates her too much.”
“Appreciate it,” said Razor. “I need to go. Ava’s hanging up.”
Since Striker knew Aine was no longer talking to her sister, he went back into the room. When he saw her crying, her arms wrapped around her stomach, his heart broke.
She looked over at him. “I told you I want to be alone.”
“I don’t care,” he answered, closing the distance between them. This time, Striker didn’t sit on the bed, he stretched out next to her. He put his arm behind her head and pulled her close. “Just cry it out,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.
When Aine buried her face in his chest, Striker closed his eyes and rested his head against hers.
He had no idea how much time passed while he held her as she cried. When he heard the door open, he expected to see Ava. Instead it was the plumber.
