The Good Mistake (Hemsworth Brothers #3)

by Haleigh Lovell

  As her body was wracked by shudders, I kept on going, fucking her with deep, feral digs and I fought back a groan right before I exploded inside her.

  It hit me with such force that I nipped the soft flesh on the underside of her breast, marking her. Panting, I rolled onto my back and pulled her into my arms, settling her weight against my chest. I closed my eyes, fighting to drag air into my lungs, feeling heavily drugged. God, I was addicted to this woman. “Lucy,” I said after some time.

  “Yes,” she whispered, panting just as hard.

  “Was that vanilla enough for you?”

  “That was some deep dicking.” A shaky laugh escaped her. “Best vanilla sex I’ve ever had.”

  “Good.” I smoothed a hand along the curve of her hips, so perfectly outlined in the firelight. “Deep dicking, eh?”

  “Deep, deep dicking.”

  “I like to go deep.”

  For a long while, all was silent save for her labored breathing and the crackling of firewood in the smoldering embers.

  “Edric.” Her voice seemed to float out of the flickering shadows.

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re not lost, are we?”

  “Why?”

  Worry creased her brows. “Because I forgot to bring my phone. And the bitch who gets lost in the wilderness is always the one who doesn’t have her phone.”

  “True.”

  “True that we’re lost? Or true that the bitch who gets lost in—”

  “We’re not lost,” I cut her off. “Of course I know my way out of here.” A lengthy pause to indicate foreshadowing. “At least I think I do.”

  “We’re lost, aren’t we?” Her voice betrayed a hint of nerves. “We’re so fucking lost.”

  “Wait,” I said suddenly. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “The sound of your heart beating like a tom-tom drum, fearful you won’t survive out here in the wild.”

  “Edric.” She grabbed my arm, digging her fingers into my flesh so hard as to leave bruises. “Stop messing around now. Are we lost or are we not?”

  “Not.” I kept my tone matter-of-fact. “I do know my way out of here. In fact, I have a built-in compass in my brain. And you want to know how you survive in the wilderness?”

  “How?”

  “By being able to navigate in the woods without a compass.” I coughed. “They don’t call me Mister Man vs. Wild for nothing.”

  Lucy laughed. A ha-ha-ha just kill me now laugh.

  “Fine.” I grunted. “No one calls me that.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lucy

  “OW!” I CRIED AS THE sheet sprang free from the mattress. “I think I dislocated my shoulder pulling out these damn fitted sheets.”

  “Sorry, baby.” Edric started massaging my shoulders with strong hands and nimble fingers. “Here I am, so worried you’d hurt yourself saving the life of a sweet orphan girl from a mountain lion attack. But, nope! Sorry folks, nothing to see here. No heroic story behind this, I’m afraid. Just a lame battle between a woman and some harmless fitted sheets.”

  I just shook my head as if to say, Stop being an idiot.

  “Does that feel good?” he asked, gently applying pressure.

  “Mmmm.” Closing my eyes, I let my head slump back, feeling all the tightness and tension in my body melt beneath his fingertips.

  Edric gave the most spectacular massages.

  “Is that too hard?” he asked, pressing harder against my shoulder blades, working all the pressure points in my neck.

  “No.” I pouted and began rubbing my breasts. “But it hurts right here, too. I think I might have dislocated my breastbone.”

  “Right here?” I heard the smile in his voice as he slid his hands under the hem of my shirt and cupped my breasts, lifting and shaping the soft swells. “I could do this all day, but we’ve got to get going soon.”

  “I know.” I pivoted around to face him. “I’ve already packed my overnight bag.”

  “And that bag is in my car. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

  I lowered my eyes and drew in a tight breath. “Once I go in for this surgery, you won’t be able to give me boob massages no more.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. At least not for a while.”

  T-minus four hours until my prophylactic bilateral mastectomy.

  I was suddenly feeling hot and it had nothing to do with the temperature. “The under-boob sweat is real right now.” I let my laugh go high. “And the back sweat, too.”

  I had to do something—anything—to keep my mind off the impending surgery. Exhaling hard, I unfolded a freshly laundered fitted sheet and tucked it around the top corner of the mattress.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” I said with attempted bravado. “Or are you going to help me make this bed?”

  He went to the other end of the bed and pulled the sheet over the opposite corner. I wished he’d stop looking at me as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, what I was feeling. It unnerved me. “What’s wrong?” he said at last.

  I tried to cover my frazzled state with a quick answer. “Nothing!” I snapped. “I’m fine.”

  We both knew I was lying.

  There was a brief silence before he spoke again. “Baby, I know this is hard without your parents here. I can still fly them out today. You only need to say the words and I’ll take care of everything.”

  “No.” Tears pricked my eyes and I struggled to hold them back.

  I wanted to put my head between my knees and cry, but I knew that if I allowed my emotions to take over, I’d start to unravel.

  Of course I wanted my momma by my side during this time. Of course I did. But I couldn’t do that to her. “No,” I said again. “They’ve already been through so much with my mom’s mastectomy. I don’t ever want them to go through that experience again.”

  His expression softened and there was a look of understanding in his eyes. “I’ll keep them posted for you. I’ll call them and text them to let them know how you’re doing.”

  “Thank you.” I had to forcibly swallow the lump in my throat before continuing. “I know they’ll appreciate that.”

  He nodded, only the slightest movement of his head.

  As I tucked the elastic corner around the other end of the mattress, Edric was watching me, his eyes searching my face. “Are you second-guessing yourself?”

  “No.” That wasn’t it. In my heart, I knew this surgery had to be done and I’d been telling myself to be a warrior, not a worrier.

  But for all my posturing, I was a nervous wreck. Anxious, edgy. Scared.

  I was mentally exhausted, my mind in overdrive.

  “I’m not second-guessing myself.” I blinked back the stinging tears. “But it’s hitting me now, all at once. And it’s not just the surgery, it’s knowing my body will never be the same again.”

  “Lucy.” His voice was strong and it was certain. “You’re beautiful no matter what.”

  “I know you’ve said that boobs are boobs are boobs are boobs.” My words gained momentum, tumbling over themselves in a rush to be heard. “And I know you’ve heard me complain about my breasts being too big and that horse trotting is hard on my boobies. But they’re a big part of me and they’ve been with me for years.”

  Edric shook out another sheet and flicked it over the bed. I reached for a corner, jerking it tight, and the entire sheet snapped like a ship’s sail caught by wind.

  “I keep telling myself I’m going to get perky breasts, and that’s what I’ve always wanted. But at the same time, I’ve had so much mileage with these massive knockers. They’ve been on this crazy ride with me all through puberty, middle school, high school, college, and into my adulthood. They’ve made me feel womanly and sexy. Confident. Yeah, they never defined me, but they gave me confidence and so much more.”

  God, they gave me infinite pleasure. I’m going to miss that.

  “And I’m scared. I’
m scared that losing them will affect my self-esteem, my sex-drive. I’m scared I’ll never feel the same again. I’m scared of the pain that’s to come. I’m scared of the scars. I—I’m scared, Edric.” I tripped over my words, repeated myself. “I’m so scared.”

  “Come here,” he said.

  Keeping my gaze averted, I smoothed the sheet beneath my trembling hands, making sure the bedding was free of wrinkles.

  “Come here,” he said again.

  I didn’t budge. Instead, I stuffed the pillows into their cases before tossing them onto the bed. Then I began fluffing them up and arranging them in a neat pile.

  He caught my wrist to stop my almost frantic tidying.

  I kept my gaze downcast. I’d never felt such panic. Such fear.

  It was hard to put into words.

  My throat threatened to close up and I swallowed hard, fighting past the tightness in my chest, but the tears that had been threatening to overflow finally did, coursing down my cheeks.

  “Baby, it’s going to be okay.” He cupped my face in his hands and his thumbs caressed my cheeks, so unexpectedly tender. “I’ll be there with you,” he said softly, brushing away my tears. “Every second. Every hour. Every day. We’ll do this together. You’re going to be fine,” he assured me. “Just fine.”

  Gradually my eyes rose to meet his and I found myself trapped by the power in his gaze.

  Our eyes remained connected, locked.

  I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

  His eyes—so steady, so safe—they were the only assurance I needed.

  He was the only assurance I needed.

  “Okay.” I drew in a hard, controlled breath. “I’m ready to do this.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Lucy

  CHECK-IN AT UCSF MEDICAL Center was a breeze. After I’d changed into a hospital gown, I waited in the preoperative holding area, beyond thankful to have Edric in the room with me as they did all the pre-op vitals. A nurse inserted an IV, and Dr. Prasad arrived soon afterward to draw markings on my breasts that showed where the incisions would be made.

  “Any last-minute concerns?” my surgeon asked me.

  “No.” I pulled in a steadying breath, flicking a quick glance at Edric, who was right beside me, holding my hand. “Not at the moment.”

  “Good.” Dr. Prasad was all smiles, her calm demeanor reminding me that she’d likely done this procedure over a thousand times. “The surgery will take about three hours. At the very end, I’ll be inserting the surgical drains into your chest before stitching and bandaging the area. Now I know I’ve already gone over this with you, but I like to give all my patients a gentle reminder right before surgery.”

  I attempted a smile. “So I’m not shocked when I wake up to find long tubes sprouting from my armpits?”

  “Precisely.” She nodded. “The tubes will help remove excess fluid from your body and reduce the risk of infection. You’ll need to keep the drains clean of course, but more on that later. We’ll go over all that post-surgery.”

  “Right,” I said on autopilot.

  “And once I’ve completed my portion of the surgery, Dr. Orr will come in to place the expanders in your chest.”

  I nodded, as I’d already gone over this with my plastic surgeon.

  Meanwhile, Dr. Prasad was writing measurements to the nearest millimeter on my chest. “All right,” she said, giving my arm a gentle squeeze when she was finished. “I’ll see you in the OR room, Lucy.” And with that, she disappeared out the door.

  Edric reached for my hand again, interlocking our fingers. “You holding up all right?”

  “No.” Maybe. “Yes,” I murmured, even though I wasn’t.

  “Molls and Kenz send their love.”

  “That’s nice,” I said quietly.

  “I met Nixin yesterday after my lacrosse game.”

  “Wait, isn’t that McKenzie’s new boyfriend?”

  He nodded his reply. “And I gave the boy so much shit.”

  “Oh, no.” I worried my lower lip between my teeth. “What did you say to the kid?”

  “Well, he was in the parking lot waiting for Kenz with flowers. I assumed they must’ve gotten into an argument or a fight—”

  “A lovers’ tiff,” I offered.

  “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I heard him tell Kenz how much he loved her and how he’d sacrificed everything for her. And I was like, ‘Yo! You sacrificed everything for my sister?’ and the kid was like, ‘Yeah, man. I sacrificed everything.’ So then I looked him dead in the eye and asked him if he’d murdered his whole family.”

  “Oh, God.” I choked on a laugh. “That’s so fuckin’ dark.”

  “C’mon, now.” He shook his head like a disapproving dad. “The kid said he sacrificed everything. Pfft! What’s that supposed to mean? Maybe he did sacrifice his entire family, you never know.”

  “I can’t believe you,” I chided. “You’re too extra, Edric.”

  “Hey.” The corners of his mouth quirked in a lopsided grin. “It made you laugh, though.”

  It did. And he kept on talking, kept me laughing, and I began to relax somewhat. But when I heard the door snick open, the laughter died in my throat and everything inside me grew still. A nurse walked in and announced, “It’s time.”

  Those words were like a machete to the heart.

  It was time for her to wheel me off to the operating room.

  Oh, fuck. My pulse quickened. Things are about to get real and raw, real soon.

  Edric squeezed my hand and I gripped his fingers so tightly my knuckles turned white. “Start my funeral preparations right now,” I told him.

  “Baby, think positive. You’re gonna live long and prosper.”

  “May the Lord have mercy on my soul. And if I don’t wake up, cry for me. The tears you shed will be the nourishment for the soil and my soul. Remember me well, Big Sexy.” I summoned up a smile. “Remember me well.”

  He pressed his lips to my forehead. “You’re gonna do great in there, baby.”

  Those were the last words I heard before I was wheeled away in a stretcher.

  Why do people always say that? I wondered. How can I do great when I won’t be doing anything at all? I’ll be unconscious on the operating table, knocked out from all the anesthesia. If anything, I hope it’s my surgeon and anesthesiologist who will do great in there.

  I guess I’ll just add that to my ever-growing list of gripes, which seems to grow all on its own, just like my pile of laundry.

  These thoughts occupied my mind as I was wheeled down a long corridor and into a cold and sterile room with bright lights and beeping machines.

  It was a hive of movement and sound.

  Dr. Prasad and her medical team were in surgical scrubs and masks, huddled around the operating table, busying themselves with something or other.

  I am but a worm squirming at the edge of a blade.

  After speaking briefly with Dr. Prasad and hearing some encouraging words from the nurses nearby, the anesthesiologist started injecting a ‘little something’ into my intravenous tube.

  Seconds later, I felt an icy chill spreading up my arms and across my chest.

  “How are you doing?” a nursed asked.

  “This...” I whispered softly. “This must be what dying feels like.”

  Gradually, the masked faces of the people around me became a hazed patina, blurring before drifting out of sight.

  Everything started to feel strange and warped, like some weird crack in reality had occurred and I’d stepped into an alternate dimension where I saw myself sitting in a lotus pose inside a yurt somewhere in outer space.

  The last thing I recalled was murmuring to myself, Goodbye, world. I hope I see you again soon. Please don’t let me be a ‘Dearly Departed.’

  I DIDN’T REMEMBER MUCH that night as I lay in bed in the recovery room, slipping in and out of a drug-induced sleep.

  However, several things came into focus in my stream of consciousness,
and they stayed with me...

  The pain that ran down each side—from my underarms to my waist. It was unbearable. Debilitating. Every time I moved, it felt as if my chest was separating from my body.

  I remembered pressing down on a little ‘magic’ button for immediate pain relief.

  The dryness in my mouth. It was bone dry, like sawdust coating my tongue and my throat.

  I remembered Edric slipping ice chips into my mouth and making it all better.

  The rolling nausea, feeling sick to my stomach.

  I remembered throwing up in a bag several times and how much it hurt having chest incisions that felt like they were going to burst right open every time I leaned over to puke.

  And the last thing I remembered was seeing Edric close by. He sat with his head hung low and his elbows on his knees, looking at his hands in front of him, clasped together.

  Then my vision went dark and everything faded to black.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I awoke to a nurse at my bedside, charting my medication.

  “Good morning,” she said brightly. “I know you feel terrible right now, but the nausea will subside once we wean you off the strong painkillers and transition you to some other pain meds.”

  You mean I won’t be trapped in this vortex of pain, vomit, and nausea forever?

  Grand.

  “Also,” she carried on briskly, “Dr. Prasad does not want you to move your arms for the next several days. Not even to lift your purse.”

  The words seemed to clot in my mouth and I had to clear my throat twice to get them out. “I won’t.”

  The nurse blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I won’t,” I whispered hoarsely.

  Why in the hell would I want to move my arms when it hurts so goddamn much? My pain level is at a blasted ten.

  “So Lucy’s arms need to remain in a Tyrannosaurus Rex position?” Edric’s deep voice unfurled from the corner. “Elbows at her sides at all times?”

  “Precisely,” she purred as she watched Edric rise to his full height.

  While my nurse openly ogled my boyfriend, his eyes immediately went to her nametag. “Thank you, Beverly. That’s good to know. And with Lucy being a temporary T-Rex, there’s a lot she won’t be able to do for herself, am I right?”