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Cyrus was in Australia and Ben decided to wait until he had real news before calling the man. He slumped in his seat and buried his face in his hands. Cyrus had trusted Ben to look out for Lilah and she had nearly died—could still die—under his care.
He could never let anything like this happen again.
PRESENT DAY
Ben watched Lilah sleep; she was always so exhausted after an attack. And this had been the worst one in eight years. She lay curled up on her side with a hand tucked under her cheek. She looked pale and vulnerable. For a disorienting moment, he imagined himself back there, in that hospital room with her eight years ago. Waiting for her to wake up, not sure when—or if—she would.
He sucked in a shuddering breath at the traumatic memory of her hooked up to machines—tiny and fragile in that huge hospital bed—a tube shoved down her throat because she’d been incapable of doing something as fundamental as breathing.
That was the first time he’d understood just how dangerous asthma could be. Before then he didn’t think he’d even considered it a real illness. Just more attention seeking behavior from Lilah. A couple of puffs from that damned blue inhaler during her teens had always been enough to distract Cyrus, who’d immediately drop everything to focus on Lilah. It had been infuriating and Ben had never truly understood Cyrus’s concern until he’d seen firsthand how bad it could get. And comprehended how much worse it could have been.
After that night he’d sworn to himself that he would ensure that nothing like that would ever happen to her again.
And he’d failed at that self-appointed task. First at their wedding, which had luckily been a relatively minor event, and now this.
Fuck.
This was his fault. He hadn’t once considered that Cyrus would mention Ben’s complicity in the old man’s decision to keep his disease from Lilah. He’d assumed that particular secret had died with his beloved mentor. He should have softened the blow somehow, told her beforehand. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. After Cyrus’s death he’d been under no obligation to keep it from her any longer.
Only… he’d known she would react badly and he was enjoying the growing intimacy between them. The way she’d let him hold her those first few nights, he’d needed that comfort too and he’d been reluctant to lose it.
Now she was threatening to leave again. She was always threatening to leave him. And his chest tightened at the thought. He wasn’t sure he had anything left in his arsenal to convince her to stay. Not for this. This was indefensible.
And the thought of her leaving…
He shook his head in denial. They were family. All the other one had. It made no sense to give up on that.
She shifted slightly and he sat up—immediately alert—watching her face intently for any sign of discomfort. But she was just adjusting in her sleep.
The faint sound of crinkling paper caught his attention and his gaze sharpened, as he searched the bed looking for the source of that noise.
He finally found it, the letter, tangled up in the bedclothes. He gently tugged it free, not wanting to disturb her, and attempted to smooth the hopelessly wrinkled paper. She was angry now, but these were Cyrus’s last words to her. And even if the contents infuriated her, she’d want to keep it.
He tried not to read it—it was a private communication and reading it would be an invasion of privacy—but he caught a glimpse of his name, and it snagged his attention.
Was that truly what Cyrus had believed? That Ben and Lilah were a gift to each other? Or, indeed, that Ben was worthy of such a gift?
Cyrus had valued Lilah above all else. She’d been his most priceless treasure and he’d wanted only the best for her. Ben had always sincerely believed that Cyrus had only wanted him to marry Lilah because she needed protection, care, but he’d never considered how much value Cyrus must have placed on Ben himself to entrust his beloved Lilah into his care.
Cyrus would have expected Ben to love her, cherish her, and all Ben had done was hurt her. And humiliate her by mocking her love and throwing it back in her face.
He didn’t read any further, respecting Cyrus and Lilah’s privacy. He folded the letter with great care and placed it on the bedside table where she would see it when she woke up.
Ben had called Lilah’s allergist after she’d fallen asleep and the man had been satisfied after hearing Ben’s account of what had happened, and believed that she was through the worst of it. He’d agreed to stop by in the morning if Lilah and Ben felt it necessary.
None of that was going to stop Ben from remaining right here, by her bedside, all night just to watch her breathe.
