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He moved over to stand in front of her, taking her face in his hands and pressing a light kiss on her forehead, then pulled away. She was holding on by a thread and the slightest pull from him, the slightest show of fear, or worry, would have her coming completely undone. It was probably the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he knew it was what she needed, so he moved away. He left her standing in the cold, fluorescent light of the kitchen, ignoring his own screaming need to drag her into his arms and never let go.
* * *
The next day dragged for Rafe. He desperately wanted to check in with Mikayla but knew it wasn’t what she wanted. His other options to pass the time would be to drop in on Nora or Juniper, but that didn’t feel right because it was a comfort that was denied to Mikayla. So he went to the gym, then took the dogs for a big run on the beach, dropping them off at Mikayla’s afterwards. They might give her some comfort, however minor.
He ate a solitary dinner, showered, and looked at his phone. Considered texting her but decided against it. He went to bed, pretended to read a book. He finally turned his light off just after ten, expecting a long, sleepless night.
Ten minutes later, he felt a wash of immense relief when he heard a car pulling up in his drive. The car doors opened and closed as the scrabble of dog feet could be heard up the drive, through his front door, and into the laundry room. Mikayla’s hissed admonishment at Wesley and Buttercup to be quiet. Then she was sliding into his room, placing an overnight bag on the floor near the door. As she tiptoed across the room, the muted moonlight spilling through the window caught her red hair, turning it a dull brown. He lifted the duvet and she slipped under the covers and into his arms. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her on the top of the head. He felt so much better that he could at least offer this small comfort.
“You know, if this goes south, you’re gonna wish you got a handful of my boobs before they tried to kill me,” she whispered, trying for some morbid humor to lighten the mood.
“Jesus, Mik.” He didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry with her.
“Inappropriate jokes aside, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things today.” She slipped her hand under his t-shirt, sliding it across his abs. “If I were to get sick, I would regret that we didn’t act on these feelings.” She cut off the objection that rose to his lips. “Not tonight. Tonight, I just want you to hold me, because I feel too scared and sad to do anything else.” She raised her face to his, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “But after this is over, I want you to take me to bed. Okay?”
He dampened the thrill of anticipation that moved through him. Now was not the time. “Okay.”
She gave a deep sigh, curled into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
* * *
Mikayla woke with Rafe curled around her. A cold lump of dread lodged heavily in the pit of her stomach despite his warmth. He stirred behind her, lifting his head and checking the clock on the bedside table. “Five thirty-two. Do you want breakfast?” He asked quietly.
She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see her in the pre-dawn gloom. “No, I think it’d make me throw up. Just coffee.”
“Okay. I’ll go and make it while you get dressed.”
She stayed in bed for a little while after he was gone and listened to him letting the dogs out to the backyard, the coffee machine steaming. There was no point trying to delay the inevitable though, so she pushed the duvet back, shivering as her feet touched the cold floor. She dressed quickly, trying not to think about the shit day she was about to have, and headed out to the kitchen. It was a long, galley kitchen in desperate need of updating. Rafe hadn’t changed anything in the house since his grandmother had passed away, and it had already been in a pretty bad state before then. He handed her a cup full of steaming coffee and she took it gratefully, giving him a strained smile in thanks.
He went off and got dressed, coming back with a heavy jacket in hand. “You wanna go? It’s a long drive.”
She nodded. It was nearly three hours. And God, wasn’t she overwhelmingly grateful that she didn’t have to do it by herself. As she stepped through the front door, she took a deep breath of the cold, misty air. An ocean fog had rolled in, shrouding the little town in an icy cloud, muffling the sound of their boots on the driveway as they walked to Rafe’s car.
The drive was interminable. Mikayla made a few attempts at chit chat, subsiding when Rafe didn’t make much of a response. Caught up in her own distress, it hadn’t really occurred to her how upsetting this would be for him. He’d been right there with her when her mother was going through treatment, plus he was a medical professional. He knew what possibly lay ahead for her if today didn’t go well. She was glad he wasn’t going down the false cheer route. She didn’t think she could handle that. Yet another reason to be grateful to him.
They pulled up outside the Breast Screening Clinic and it was all Mikayla could do not to vomit from the anxiety. Her gut was roiling, and she felt the hot sting of tears. Fuck. She took a few deep breaths then pushed the car door open. She heard Rafe do the same. She turned to take his outstretched hand and head towards the entrance to the clinic. Just before they got to the sliding doors, she pulled on his hand. He turned back, shooting her a worried, questioning look. She swallowed the lump in her throat before saying, “Thanks for this.”
He nodded. “Of course.” It was an odd response, but she knew what he meant. Of course, Mikayla. I’ve always been there for you, and I always will be, no matter what.
She reached up and stroked his face. “I love you.”
He swallowed, hard. “I love you, too,” he replied, his voice husky.
She turned to the doors. “Right, let’s go get my boobs felt up.”
The check in process was seamless, with just a short wait before she was taken into an examination room, leaving Rafe to sit in a crowded waiting room with more than a dozen women going through the same process. She was greeted by an older woman with short cropped, salt and pepper hair and a kind smile. Mikayla was asked to strip to the waist and sit on the side of the examination table. She did so, gripping her hands tightly together as the nurse checked her breasts.
“I’m sorry for my cold hands.”
“It’s okay.” She stared up at the ceiling, willing her heart rate to settle.
“I think it’s okay, but we’ll get a scan done, just to double check. Pop your shirt back on and have a seat in the waiting room. We’ll call you when we’re ready.”
Mikayla came out of the examination room and caught Rafe’s eye straight away. She gave a slight shrug as she walked towards him. “She thinks it’s okay, just from the feel, but they want to do an ultrasound,” she said, as she dropped into the chair next to him, her voice barely above a whisper. The waiting room was so quiet it was nerve wracking. Just all these poor women, waiting to find out if the axe was going to fall.
The next forty minutes were pure agony. There was literally nothing to do. Mikayla picked up a magazine, flicked through it listlessly before dropping it back on the table. She shifted in her chair, crossed her legs at the ankles then uncrossed them again. “Jesus Christ, Mik,” Rafe said in a fierce undertone.
