by Kaylea Cross
“Uh-oh,” Sam said, taking her cue and breaking loose. “Here they go. This should be good.” She grabbed Emily and Nev by the arms. “Come on, let’s get a seat so we can watch the show.”
Ben was already pulling off his shirt, baring the rippling muscles of his torso in a completely unself-conscious display of male power. Sam rolled her eyes. “God, you are such a show-off.”
“Yeah, and you love looking at my pecs,” he replied without missing a beat. He hitched up his cargo pants as he raised his brows at Bryn in challenge. “Sure you want to do this with an audience? I bet you’re rusty. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your girls.”
Bryn’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Neither would you, mouthpiece.”
Emily snickered, loving the distraction, which was exactly what Ben had intended. He’d managed to lift everyone’s mood in the space of a minute. He was entertainment indeed, and God knew she could use the diversion right now.
She watched with a pang of envy as Bryn went at him, rolling effortlessly when he threw her to the mat, and jumped to her feet. Their movements were fluid and beautiful to watch, almost choreographed. The satisfied gleam in Bryn’s eyes told Emily how much her friend enjoyed her workout, and though Ben made her work hard, he tempered his strength in consideration. Then Bryn went on the offensive. Ben laughed in delight as he blocked a rather vicious kick to the kidney.
Emily winced, but Sam yelled out, “Get him, Bryn!”
Fending off another attack, Ben shot a betrayed look at his fiancée. “What?” he demanded in a shocked tone, lunging over to grab Sam. Bryn stood off to the side and smiled, shaking her head at the two of them.
Sam shrieked and hung on as he lifted her over one shoulder and carefully tumbled her onto her back on the mat. He kept her pinned there for just a moment before kissing her soundly on the mouth, then Nev jumped in with a playful shout and grabbed him around the waist from behind. In less than a second, Ben had her on the floor next to her cousin, laughing as he tickled them.
When Emily snickered, Ben turned his head and locked his gaze on her. She held up her hands in self-defense and opened her mouth to protest but he came at her anyway. She let out a yelp and clutched at his wide shoulders as he hauled her into the air and spun her, his arms controlling her descent when he laid her down beside the other two. By the time her back touched the mat, she was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. She couldn’t remembered the last time she’d had this much fun. It felt wonderful.
“That’s right, ladies,” Ben remarked, towering over them with hands on hips while they tried to catch their breath. “Don’t mess with the master.” He surveyed his handiwork for a moment before grinning. “One more to go,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Bryn.
“I dare you to try,” she taunted, going back into her fighting stance.
Emily and the others scooted out of range while the next round got underway, laughing and cheering Bryn on. For the first time in days, she wasn’t thinking about Luke or her cancer and the upcoming chemo treatments. Right then, she didn’t feel sick at all.
****
Later, when the others left to go up to the kitchen with Ben shooting snide remarks about Bryn’s rusty martial arts skills, Emily stayed behind. Her heart pounded. Watching those two grapple and punch and kick away their frustrations made her want to do the same. God knew she had an overload of tension and anger to unload. The inexplicable urge to hit something rose hard within her. She eyed the heavy bag hanging in the back corner and the pair of boxing gloves lying beneath it. Biting her lip, she took another glance around. She was all alone here, so if she was going to do it, now was the time.
The closer she got to the bag, the more her heart pounded. She’d never hit anything in her life, but she needed to now. She was sick and tired of feeling like a victim, of having no control over anything. The stockpiled memories played in her mind like a movie on fast-forward, and she let them build. Luke deploying for missions. Losing her mother. Losing her father less than a year later. Luke leaving. Raising Rayne without a father. The damned cancer and the operations that had carved her femininity out of her. Being dragged to Beirut.
But the worst of all was a vision of her dying in a lonely hospital bed, terrified and in agony.
No more.
The words echoed in her brain, resonating within the deepest part of her heart. Starting right now, she was taking back control over her life, and her body. The cancer was there and she couldn’t do more about that than she already was, but if she had to go down, she was going down fighting. Like a heavyweight champion.
She picked up the thick gloves. The left one went on easily enough, but the right took some maneuvering as she held it between her knees and pushed her hand into it. Her fingers automatically curled into fists as she raised them toward the bag. No one was around. No one was there to laugh at her poor technique. She could vent all the ugliness inside her. Right now, without being embarrassed or having to explain herself to anyone.
Hit it.
Her breathing came faster as she visualized the way Ben and Bryn had punched, feet spread apart to give them balance, weight thrown forward as they struck. She imagined how it would feel, throwing her fist into the bag.
Hit it.
Hell yes, she would. She gave it an experimental shot with her right glove, testing the way the impact traveled up her arm.
Hit it!
Face twisting with all the rage and hurt bottled up inside her, Emily let loose on the heavy bag. Her blows slammed into the leather sides, one after the other, the impact jolting right up to her shoulders. But it felt good. It felt right. Damn near addictive. She might not know what the hell she was doing, but that didn’t matter. Channeling her energy into her fists was exactly what she needed.
Switching her lead foot to get better balance, Emily put her full weight behind the punches. The chain hanging the bag from the hook in the ceiling rattled as she upped the ferocity of her attack, the muscles in her arms and shoulders burning with the effort. She started panting, and a delicious sense of power rushed through her battered body. She was not weak, and she was no quitter, no matter what Luke thought. She’d show him, her body, and everyone else what she was made of. Just frigging watch her. Goosebumps broke out over her skin.
The bag jerked as she threw her fists at it, angry growls ripping from her throat. When that wasn’t enough she got her knees into it too, ramming into the leather until her legs quivered with fatigue. Sweat beaded on her face and between her breasts, but she kept going, loving the sense of freedom. When she was gasping for breath and her arms were too weak to put any force behind the punches, she stopped and staggered back to put her gloved hands on her knees.
But the room began to spin.
Oh damn... Emily shook her head to clear it, but it didn’t help. If anything, the movement made the disorientation worse. Her breaths turned raspy and shallow. Oh, shit, she wasn’t going to pass out, was she? In the middle of the floor after her first try at boxing, where anyone could stumble upon her?
In case she was about to hit the floor, she got onto her knees before collapsing on her butt. Encouraged that she was still conscious, she lay down on her back and lifted her feet in the air, resting them against the heavy bag to push more blood to her brain. Gradually her breathing slowed and the awful chill left her, but she didn’t dare risk getting up yet. She stayed that way for an unknown amount of time, feeling like a complete ass with her legs up in the air until she heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.
Cringing, she swung her legs down as she opened her eyes and looked toward the stairway. The treads were too heavy to be one of the girls, so it had to be Ben. Ah well, at least it wasn’t Lu—
“Em?”
Her heart almost stopped at the sound of Luke’s deep drawl. Before she could move he appeared in the doorway, and his dark gaze locked on her.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, rushing over to hunker down beside her. “Are you oka
y?”
No. No, this couldn't be happening. God wouldn't do this to her on top of everything else.
He put a hand on her damp face. “Em, are you hurt?”
She tried a smile. “You should see the other guy.”
Luke didn’t smile back. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Just a little dizzy.” And mortified. If she was going to pass out, now would be a good time.
In silence, his gaze took in the boxing gloves on her hands. “What were you doing?”
Knitting, she wanted to snap. Wasn’t it plenty obvious? “Exercising.”
“Can you sit up?”
“In a second.” She wished he’d just go away and let her collect herself.
Instead, Luke tugged the gloves off, and the air suddenly felt cold against her damp palms. Unfortunately, the burning in her face continued. She avoided his gaze, but he knelt and took her face between his broad hands. Electric tingles shot through her nerve endings where he touched her skin, but when she dared to look into his eyes she found only concern, and maybe a bit of annoyance. Then she realized the pressure of his fingers beneath her jaw wasn’t a caress. He was taking her pulse.
She pushed his hands away and sat up, but he immediately steadied her with a hard arm across her back. She couldn’t look at him. He’d been a SEAL for a long time. They respected strength and the ability to take physical punishment in silence. She detested that he saw her as weak and helpless.
“Okay now?”
“Yep.” To prove it, she shifted onto her knees with the intent to get up, but he simply slid his other arm beneath her legs and lifted her into the air. With a startled gasp she grabbed his wide shoulders. “No, put me down.”
“Nope.” He strode to the stairs, carrying her as though she weighed nothing. And oh, he smelled good. Her body went a little weaker.
“I’m not hurt, I just overdid it—”
“Damn right you did.” The annoyance in his tone stopped her from protesting any further, made her set her jaw. “You just got off a long flight,” he reminded her, “and I bet you haven’t eaten since you left London, have you?”
She scowled at the middle of his wide chest. “No.”
“You’re a nurse for God’s sake, so you should know better.”
Any satisfaction she’d gained from exorcising her demons was long gone. All that remained was the sinking feeling in her stomach. She’d managed to make herself appear pathetic and feeble in front of Luke yet again.
“You could have given yourself a concussion if you’d fallen down there alone. Ever think of that?”
She clenched her teeth until her jaw ached, his words putting the match to her usually dormant temper. “Okay, so I got carried away!”
His arms tightened around her as he went up the stairs. “You need to take better care of yourself. You just had a chemo treatment a few weeks ago, and you’re going to have another one tomorrow. You know you’re anemic, same as you know you’ll bruise easily now—and that makes me wonder why the hell you’d decide to go at a heavy bag within an hour of arriving on an intercontinental flight.”
Since any argument she came up with would be a complete waste of time, she bit her tongue and suffered his achingly familiar embrace while he carried her into the kitchen. The second they entered the room, Ben and Sam both stopped chopping vegetables at the granite island and stared at them.
Luke ignored them, taking her straight to the family room to set her on the couch, placing a few pillows under her feet as though he worried she might pass out still. As if his skin burned her, Emily yanked her arms away from his neck. And then Ben was standing next to them, inadvertently adding to her misery.
“You okay?”
She gritted her teeth. “Yes.” But now she wanted to hit something again.
Sam came in and tugged on Ben’s arm. “Can you come into the kitchen for a minute?”
“In a sec. I just want to make sure she’s—”
Emily nailed him with a glare that promised bodily harm if he finished that sentence. “There’s nothing wrong with me. But thanks for your concern,” she added to soften her hard tone.
Ben’s eyes widened a fraction, and he threw Luke a “good luck” look as he turned to leave.
Now her face burned with shame on top of the humiliation. Ben was only trying to help, and she shouldn’t have snapped at him. Her anger should be directed at herself, not at anyone else. Luke was right. She should have known better.
She brushed at a spot of lint on her black pants, wishing he’d go yet praying he wouldn’t. His nearness made it hard to breathe. “Thank you, but I’m fine now. I can take care of myself.”
“That’s not how it looks to me. So far I’d say you’re doing a piss-poor job of it.”
An outraged gasp came out and her eyes snapped to his. “Who the hell do you think you are, to talk to me like that?” she demanded. “I got my ass on the plane and came here like you ordered, did I not? What the hell else do you want from me?”
His eyes smoldered with annoyance. “I’m getting Nev.”
Her mouth tightened. “I told you, I’m fine. Don’t bug her.”
“Yeah, I’ll believe it if she tells me you’re fine.” He walked out of the room, leaving her to stew.
She closed her eyes and took slow, deep breaths to calm down. What was happening between them? They’d never sniped at each other this way, not even when they were married. Stress, she decided. It was the stress of everything. Him planning out the next mission, knowing she was terminal, and still trying to take control of everything.
Quiet treads had her opening her eyes. Neveah walked up and studied her. “What’s going on? Luke said you fainted.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “I didn’t faint. He’s being an overbearing, controlling...asshole.”
Nev burst out laughing. “Oh, is that all? Well, get used to it, hon. All the men in the house are like that. Us girls are going to have to stick together if we want to stand a chance against them.”
Chapter Seven
Next afternoon, Nev found her in the kitchen staring out at the patio. “You ready to do this?”
Emily just wanted the treatment over with. “Yep. Where do you want me?”
“Wherever you feel most comfortable.”
Not in her room. She felt too closed up in there. Maybe it would help to be out in the open somewhere. Outside, the sky was clouding over but the breeze was light, blowing the edges of the shrubs occasionally. And she’d be out of everyone’s way there. “By the pool, I think. Maybe under the pergola there.” The wooden beams dripped with grapevines. Maybe she’d pick some leaves to make those Lebanese roll-ups later for dinner if she felt up to eating.
“Sure. I'm going to give you the diphenhydramine first, to make sure you don’t have a hypersensitivity reaction, then I’ll start the Taxol. Do you want a sedative or anything?”
“No, just some Gravol if you’ve got it.”
Nev snorted. “Of course I do. You think I’d agree to do this if Luke didn’t have all the meds and equipment I might need brought in?” She put an arm around her shoulders and started for the French doors.
A seating area was arranged beneath the teak pergola, and Emily chose the padded chaise lounge, settling into it before pulling the cozy throw blanket at its foot over her body.
“I’ll go get everything and bring you a coat.”
When she was alone, Emily laid her head back and sighed. Despite how tired she’d been last night she hadn’t slept much. Some part of her was still too aware that Luke was in the house, in the study on the main floor. She knew he’d been in there all night, and had probably only taken a couple of fifteen minute combat naps at most. How he could function on that little amount of sleep she’d never know, but he seemed to manage beautifully. When they’d first been married she’d never really noticed it, but after Rayne was born it had amazed her. The man was a total rock.
Through the whole of her torturous twenty-two hour back labor he’d h
eld her hand or rubbed her back, keeping her calm and not letting her panic when the pain got so bad she thought she would die—and then worse until she wanted to die simply to make it stop. He’d stayed next to her and talked her through it, one horrific contraction at a time. He never broke a sweat, never even yawned though he’d been up for almost two days without sleep. And when she’d come home with the baby, so exhausted she’d occasionally burst into tears for no reason, Luke took over. He brought Rayne to her for feedings so she wouldn’t have to get up, and sometimes fed him a bottle so she could get some extra sleep.
A lot of those early nights when he was home at their bungalow near the base he took the night shifts, but he didn’t catch up on his sleep during the day. He just kept going, which shouldn’t have surprised her because he was a SEAL, and a man couldn’t attain that status without being able to handle sleep deprivation. It also should have told her about the strength of his will. Once he made his mind up to do something, he’d do it or die trying. Little wonder he’d never come back after he left.
“Feel like some company?”
Emily opened her eyes and held out a hand to Bryn. She wasn’t the only one hurting right now. The waiting was a killer. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
Bryn sighed. “Coping as best I can. You?”
“The same. Nev’s coming back to give me a treatment. Sure you want to stay?”
“Yeah, I thought we could play Scrabble, just like old times.”
Emily smiled. “I’d like that.” And it would make the time pass far more quickly than watching each torturous drip fall into the IV tube.
All too soon Nev returned, and while Emily got her coat on and buttoned up to the waist, Nev got her long thick rubber gloves on. They came almost up to her elbows. “Careful,” she warned Bryn as she got everything hung up. “This first stuff’s not so bad, but if the Taxol gets on your skin we’re gonna have to scrub you down before it burns you.”
Bryn cast a disbelieving glance at Emily. “Good to know, since that shit’s going directly into her veins.”
