I waited. I let her answer.
“I don’t want to live with that constant fear and anxiety. I saw firsthand the anguish, the horror, the pain my mom and my aunts endured. The world tends to glamorize pain and tell you how inspirational it is.” A harsh laugh. “There’s nothing glamorous or inspirational about it. It’s fucked up. It’s confusing. It’s chaotic. Watching my mom in so much pain, I felt like my heart was being carved out of me and set on fire.”
Her fingers were clenched around the pillow, her hands fisted.
She looked as pale as the white linen sheets.
In time, she said, “I was filled with this paralyzing fear that the cancer would spread in spite of all the chemo and radiation my mom had to go through. It was the lowest kind of lows... that feeling of helplessness.” She breathed out slowly. “Now I get to control my own narrative. I don’t have to simply react to it. Yes, I don’t have cancer, but I can take proactive steps to prevent that. Right now, I have a great shot at beating this before I have to go through any chemo or radiation therapy. So why not deal with this while I’m young and healthy, when my body can bounce back from a massive surgery?”
Again, I waited. I let her speak.
“I think I’ve made my decision,” she said at last. “I don’t want to feel helpless anymore. I want to take control of the situation.” She laughed—a harsh, humorless sound. “Besides, like you said, boobs are boobs are boobs are boobs, right?”
I found myself nodding even though she wasn’t expecting an answer.
“And I can always get implants. Smaller ones, of course.”
“Why smaller?”
“Trotting is hard on my boobies.” She looked down at her tits and pushed them together. “Try riding a horse with these double D’s. It’s painful. Hurts like a bitch.”
My throat tightened and I swallowed hard, hypnotized by her fondling her own sensational tits. “I wouldn’t know,” I muttered uselessly. “I don’t have moobs.”
“Ground-breaking diagnosis, Edric,” she said dryly. “Revolutionary.”
In a dazed sort of stupor, I nodded again.
She sent me a sidelong glance, then her lips quirked when she saw my eyes glaze over, spellbound. “Yes, I’m fully aware you don’t have man boobs. Is that what you want me to say?”
In all honestly, I only wanted to make her smile, to ease her stress. Help her decompress. “I want you to say that you’ll stay. I don’t see why you need to end this or move out.”
“I think it’s best I go back to Wisconsin so I can be at home. My mom will be there to help me post-surgery. My doctor says that recovery time from a double mastectomy is about four to six weeks. I plan to take a month off work using my employer’s short-term disability policy.”
“What about your health insurance?” I asked. “Will it cover the surgery?”
“It should. I’ll need to spend roughly three grand out of pocket. Without insurance coverage, it would’ve cost me over a hundred grand. So I’m good. I’ve been saving up, you know, setting aside some money every month.”
Now it all clicked into place. “Is that why you were living out of your truck?”
She dropped her gaze and picked at a loose thread from the linen sheets. “In the back of my mind, I guess I always knew it might come to this. I wanted to be prepared... mentally, financially.”
“What about your family?”
“My parents have enough problems of their own; they’re still heavily burdened by all my mom’s medical bills. Between chemotherapy and radiation, Mom was always exhausted, mentally and physically, and Dad was there for her the entire stretch. It was a trying time... the stress, the loss of income. And then he got injured on the farm last year and now they’re still struggling to get ahead.” She gave a weary sigh. “So yeah, the last thing I want to do is overwhelm them with my problems. And I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. I’m fine,” she said, though her voice betrayed a hint of nerves.
“Are you, though?” I could see right through her tough shell. She was always doing this, hiding her fears with sharp talk and bold gestures.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
She was not. She was deeply distraught and justifiably so.
A tight knot began to form in my chest. I ached for her, as if my own heart would burst out from my ribcage. I wanted to wrap her in a warm blanket, give her a cup of hot cocoa, and tell her everything was going to be okay. “You were homeless.” I put my arm around her.
“I was houseless.” She rested her head on my shoulder. “But I was never homeless. Not when I had Gouda.”
“And now you have me,” I said meaningfully.
Her face relaxed into a smile. “Now I have you.”
A new silence coalesced around us. Sighing, I drew her into the shelter of my body and she seemed content to stay nestled in my arms, letting them act as a buffer between her thoughts and the world. “I can’t imagine not having you around.” I spoke softly, quietly. “You’re the heartbeat of this house, Lucy Jane Lawless.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet of you to say.” I felt her lungs expand with a heavy sigh. “But I think it’s for the best.”
It took a few heartbeats for what she was saying to actually sink in, and when they did, the implications of her words penetrated slowly, like a draft under the door.
I heard the implied finality in those words. The decision had been made. Lucy was leaving.
I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t want her to go.
“Lucy...” I rocked her gently in my arms. “Can we agree that we have a lot of fun together?”
“We agree.” I felt her heart echoing against mine, beating too fast.
“And we’re good friends, aren’t we?”
“The best.” I heard the smile in her voice. “They kind of friends who grow old together, cook wonderful meals together, and share a house together.”
I smiled. “And we’d be grumpy old crones—two crusty crabs sitting out on the front porch and chugging cold beers. You, with your nose in a Kindle.”
“You, with your book.”
“And we’d rock back and forth in our wooden rocking chairs, criticizing everybody who dared venture into our cul-de-sac.”
“Mmm-hmmm. How dare they walk down our sidewalk?” she said with sass. “And we’d judge them, too!”
“Most certainly.”
A sort of soporific mood descended upon us as I rocked her gently in my arms. And for a little while, we were just two people suspended in a singular silence. I held on to her, not wanting to speak for fear of breaking this newly woven spell that now surrounded us.
“Edric?” The spell was broken.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you rocking me like a mother lulling a newborn babe?”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No, not really,” she said as her hair was teased by a whispery rustle of an evening breeze wafting through the open window.
I sniffed the air and caught a whiff of something pungent. “You smell that?”
“Yeah.” She scrunched her nose. “Smells like a skunk.”
“Hey,” I said abruptly.
“What?”
“I’ve got a great dad joke for you.”
“No,” she said at once. “God, no.”
“You’ll like this one.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
“Won’t.”
“Will.”
“All right,” she conceded with a smile. “Go ahead and tell me.”
“Once upon a time,” I began, “there were two skunks. One was named In and the other was named Out. In got lost. Out’s mom sent him to go find In. When he found him, his mom said, ‘How on earth did you find him?’ And Out replied, ‘In stinked.’”
A snort of laughter escaped her. “Edric?”
“Yes, my Lucy Llama Ding Dong?”
“That was a terrible joke. My instincts tell me so.”
I laughed and my gri
p tightened, hugging her harder. “So we agree that we’re best friends and we have a lot of fun together. Now can we also agree that Gouda is happy here?”
“We agree on that, too.”
“What if...” I trailed off and let that hang midair, tried a couple of sentences in my head to see how they might sound if I dared to say them out loud. “What if you stayed?”
“Here?”
“No, on Uranus,” I said tonelessly. “Of course you’d stay here. That makes the most sense, wouldn’t you agree?”
She said nothing and I didn’t let go. I went on rocking her back and forth. Gently. Soothingly. “You said your parents have enough on their hands at the moment, and well guess what? I don’t. I’m a lazy, unemployed sloth who gives himself fancy titles, remember?”
Her shoulders lifted with laughter. “You’ve changed my mind, Edric. You’re a workhorse, not a showhorse. Besides, I was just playin’ with ya.”
“I’m not playin’ around here. I’m serious, Lucy. I want you to stay and I’ll be here to help you after your surgery. I’ll take care of you, cook all your meals, make sure you’re comfortable and have everything you need. We’ll binge-watch every true crime show on Netflix, HBO, and Hulu. We’ll listen to all your favorite podcasts in bed. Hell, I’ll even spend time with Gouda.”
“You’d do that?” She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. “For me?”
I took her hand and laced my fingers through hers. “I will.”
“That sounds like a promise.”
I gave her hand a firm squeeze. “It is.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” I hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face to mine. “What are friends for?”
There was the slightest bit of hesitation before she responded. “Okay.”
“Okay as in you’ll stay?” I had to clarify and everything inside me grew still as I held my breath, waiting.
“Yes.”
The knot in my chest finally loosened and I expelled a long breath. I wanted to yell from the rooftops, Fuck, yeah! She’s staying!
Instead, I drew her tight against my chest and rested my chin on her head. Closing my eyes, I sighed into her hair and spoke softly, tenderly, “Okay.”
Chapter Ten
Lucy
“I DID IT, BOY!” GOUDA held still as I rubbed his forehead. “It’s done. It’s scheduled. My double mastectomy is happening. In three weeks, I’m going to break up with my breasties. What do you think about that?”
The large stallion stretched his neck, sniffed my hair, and nickered.
“I know you’re worried. I didn’t mean for everything to happen so fast, but there’s no time like the present to take charge of my health, right?”
Gouda threw his lip up in approval.
“Yes, I know I have other options besides surgery.” I rubbed him behind his ears. “I’m well aware of that. Regular screening can find cancer as early as possible when cure rates are at their highest. But with me being high-risk, my doctor flat-out told me she doesn’t want to sit on something that’s potentially cancerous.”
He whooshed a warm breath as if disappointed and I chuckled.
“Don’t be silly. Of course I sought out second and third opinions. And I feel I’m informed enough to make my decision, okay? Trust me.”
Gouda bobbed his head up and down as if he understood. Perhaps he did.
Sighing, I stroked his baby-soft nose. The day-to-day burden of worrying about developing cancer was crippling. “This surgery, it’s going to be life-altering, that’s for darn sure. But the alternative is living with the constant fear and anxiety.”
As if sensing my distress, Gouda rubbed his head against my shoulder and my heart swelled inside my chest. “Don’t worry.” I spoke to him softy, quietly. “I know it’s the right decision for me. I need to be healthy for the both of us.”
Gouda gave a whinny and I put my face against his reddish-brown neck, breathing in deeply. “It’s going to be okay, boy. It’s going to be okay.” I was stroking his mane when a slight movement in the corner of my eye arrested my motion.
I happened to glance up when Edric popped his head around the barn door.
“Hey,” he said, his face lighting with humor and charm. “Were you just talking to your horse?”
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I talk to the realest stud I know?” I straightened myself, finished the brushing, and put the tack away.
“You’ve been here all morning.” He leaned indolently against the doorframe, a sexy smile curving his lips. “Come back into the house and meet my sisters. Talk to some humans. They’re dying to meet my new girlfriend.”
“Your sisters are here?” I put Gouda out in the pasture, watching as he cantered away, finding a comfortable spot in the shade of some mesquite trees. “What do they think of your beard?” I asked. “Do they think you look like Hagrid?”
“Who’s Hagrid?”
“The half-giant and half-human from Harry Potter.”
Edric’s beard was thick and full. Wild and free. This was not the beard of a man who had grown it because Esquire told him to. No. This was the beard of a man who’d simply decided to never pick up a razor again.
“My sisters think it’s cool.” He shrugged. “What about you? I wanna know what you think of my beard.”
“It looks like you did No-Shave November and then forgot that there are other months in the calendar year. Are you doing this for a cause? Or is this just an excuse to be lazy as fuck and forego grooming altogether?”
“Both,” he said mildly. “Beards make everything better.” He cocked a brow. “And wetter.”
“Eww.” I laughed, my shoulders shaking. “You did not just say that.”
“This is not just a beard,” he said self-importantly. “This is a passport to macho.”
I snorted out loud.
“A bearded man always wins the battle. Haven’t you watched Game of Thrones?”
“No. But I thought the dragons win the battle.”
“The dragon battle was definitely the highlight of season seven.”
“Again,” I said. “Never watched it. And I still think you need to shave. That beard is getting out of control.”
“What?” He stroked his scruffy beard. “You don’t think it makes me manlier?”
“How is it manlier to have a beard?” I quipped. “Vaginas can grow beards, too.”
“My ears.” He cringed. “My virgin ears. I cannot believe I just heard that. You did not just compare my beautiful beard to a vajungle.”
Ah! Just seeing him cringe and squirm did wonders for my spirit. “I did,” I egged him on. “By the beard of Zeus, I did.”
“Why are you always picking on me, woman?”
“Because you make it so easy.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And you’re here—why?”
“I came to tell you that I’m taking my sisters to Six Flags this afternoon and you’re coming with.” His tone made it seem more an order than a request.
“Why do I need to come?”
“They’re fourteen and we need to have a fourth person, otherwise one of them will have to sit next to a possible pedophile on a ride, and I can’t have that. We all know that amusement parks are teeming with perverts and pedos.”
“Why can’t you sit next to the pedophile on the rides?”
“If you come, then I won’t have to. If you come, none of us will have to sit next to a pedo on any of the rides. We’ll take up all four seats in a row.”
“Hmm...”
“C’mon, Lucy. It’ll be fun and my sisters will be mad if you don’t come with us.” He said this with so much earnest appeal in his voice that I began to waver.
“Well...” I hedged.
“Starting tomorrow, you’re gonna show me the ropes and all that.” He made a great show of looking around the barn. “I’ll learn everything I need to know so I can take good care of Gouda while you’re indisposed. So c’mon, baby, say you’ll go.”
I sighed. Of course he had to go and pull out the Gouda card. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go.”
“Yes!” He pumped his fist.
“You’re gonna regret this, though.”
“Why would I?”
“Don’t introduce me to your family unless you plan on marrying me, because they’re going to love me and ask about me for the rest of your life.”
“Don’t care,” he shot back. “You’re still coming so suck it!”
“I’d rather not.”
Chapter Eleven
Lucy
“THIS IS BEYOND RIDICULOUS,” Molly grumbled. “I’m done waiting in line!”
“I’m so done.” McKenzie sighed dramatically before slouching off.
I didn’t blame them one iota. We’d been standing in line at this food stand here at Six Flags for over an hour now.
“What?” Edric looked defeated. “You give up, too?”
“Yep. Sorry, but I’m not spending twenty bucks for a gourmet meal of chicken nuggets. I can make my own Dino Buddies nuggets at home and they’ll probably taste better.”
“I’m buying.”
“Don’t care.”
And so we joined his sisters who were standing off to the side, glued to their phones.
“Molls, Kenz.” Edric shook his head like a disapproving mom. “Didn’t I tell you girls to eat something before we left the house? I slaved away all day in the kitchen for you. I even had snacks spread out. But did you want to eat anything? Nooooooo. Well, hate to tell you, but I told you so.”
“You made lasagna.” Molly rolled her eyes. “No slaving away required. Just pop in the microwave oven and serve. So easy.”
“Excuse me?” he pooh-poohed. “I made that lasagna from scratch. It required a lot of layering.”
“I’ll eat anything right now.” McKenzie did a quick scan of the amusement park. “Look at those lines. No matter where we go, we’ll be waiting for over an hour to eat.”
Molly pouted profusely. “I’m hungry.”
“Hi, Hungry, I’m Edric.”
“Oh my hell, will you stop with the dad jokes already?” Molly made an exasperated sound.
The Good Mistake (Hemsworth Brothers #3) Page 12
