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Cash drew in his own deep breaths and pushed them out as he held her. Finally, he spoke. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes and in the tent, give you time to calm down, and I’ll tell you everything.” His voice sounded rational, but it wasn’t level. It was shaky.
Brylee nodded against his neck. He swiftly carried her out of the water and slid into his flip-flops. He left the products, their rain stuff, and her flip-flops behind. Who cared?
Cash was dying.
He couldn’t be. He was too strong, too larger than life. When she’d feared those men might kill him, she’d been a mess. This was somehow worse as he seemed to be certain his death was imminent and there wasn’t the intense fighting situation to take her focus. Romeo and Juliet … this was worse!
Brylee cuddled into him, wrapping her arms around his back. Her sobs calmed, though she was far from done crying.
“Please don’t say anything that the cameras could pick up,” he whispered against her forehead as they approached camp. Rays from the setting sun lit up the thick clouds. The cameras could still pick them up without them turning the lights on.
“’Kay,” she managed.
He didn’t want anyone to know. Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t even told her, and she felt like he’d told her a lot of things.
She’d known.
That hit her like a truck. Heaven had revealed it to her when she’d prayed that first night. She’d tried to have faith and not push him, knowing he was hiding something rough. That was why he’d pulled away from her, said he wished she didn’t like him, didn’t say he loved her back. He might not love her as deeply as she loved him, but she knew Cash loved her. She could feel it in every line of his body and every look he gave her, and especially in his kiss.
Brylee had found love with the perfect man for her, and he was dying.
How could life be so cruel? Cash was a million times better in every way possible than any man she’d ever met, except her own daddy of course, and he was dying. How?
She wanted to scream out her anguish at heaven above. How could He do this to her?
A sudden punch walloped her in the gut. She was being incredibly selfish. Cash didn’t want her pity, and he was the one who was dying. Instead of praying for her own pain and injustice, she should pray for help, faith, and the strength to help Cash through this.
As he carried her to their supplies and helped her get some dry clothes to change into, then waited with his back turned while she changed, then carried her into the tent, she prayed. Not for herself—she wasn’t there yet, she was too upset—but she could pray for Cash.
Please comfort and bless him. Please send your angels. Please … a miracle?
Was the last line selfish? Kind of. She wanted a miracle for him to be cured or saved or whatever he needed, and a miracle that they could be together.
Cash left her in the tent and went and changed himself. She was on her knees repeating her prayers when the tent unzipped.She probably looked a mess with her hair wet and tangled, no makeup on, her eyes and face red and puckered from crying.
Cash’s gaze swept over her in the misty evening light. “Oh, Bry. You are exquisitely beautiful.”
“Cash,” she cried out and flung herself against his chest.
He was in a squatted position, but he was too strong for her to knock him over. He held her close. She wanted to kiss him so badly, but this wasn’t that moment. They’d have those moments soon. If he really was dying, she’d try not to show her pity, but she wasn’t leaving his side. She would kiss him day and night until he left her.
Cash eased into the tent with her clinging to him like a monkey. He zipped the tent up. There was still enough light to see, but it would be dark soon. She wanted to see Cash’s face, his emotions, as he explained, but she didn’t know if she could handle that without getting more emotional herself and probably showing the pity and despair she felt for him.
Brylee felt like she was in a real-life nightmare. The only good thing was Cash’s strong arms holding her close.
How in the world could she be strong enough to support and love him while he died? How in the world would she survive without him?
Chapter
Eighteen
Cash heldBrylee against his chest. She felt warm and significant and soft in his arms. He felt far too hard and cold and stiff.
Why had he told her, and in such an insensitive burst of words?
How stupid of him to not soften it somehow. Yet how could he soften news like that? When she’d said she would understand, he knew she was sincere. Brylee would understand and she’d somehow deal with it, but it would still rip her apart.
It would’ve been a wuss way out to just leave her with a kiss tomorrow and have her think he was a jerk until she heard he died and then be devastated when she learned the truth.
