by Tessa Layne
Her mouth quirked as she penned another note. “I think you’re a glutton for punishment.”
He grinned back at her. “Maybe, yeah. But maybe I have your number now.”
Her eyebrows jumped, and she wrote again, flashing him the notepad. “HOPE YOU LIKE LAUNDRY!!”
A laugh erupted from his gut at the caps and underlines. “I’ll like seeing you do mine. With military folds,” he added, enjoying the picture of giving her a little taste of military inspection.
She snorted, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she dealt another round. His confidence grew as they progressed through the rounds, evenly split this time. As they neared the end of the final round, Cash kept his face carefully neutral, watching Kate like a hawk for any signs of what Kate had planned. He’d hand it to her, she played unpredictably, sometimes laying cards down early and taunting him with each additional card she added to her runs. Other times, she kept her cards close and laid them down only when she was ready to go out. But this match was his, he was one card away from winning, and this time he was going to catch her with cards in her hand. The game was close enough that whoever won this match would win the game.
Kate’s hand hovered over the deck, and her eyes darted from him, to her cards, to her hand. What in the heck was she playing at? Slowly, she drew. He had her. She’d tried, but failed to keep her face neutral. Whatever card she’d drawn, it wasn’t the one she needed. And she must sense that he was about to go out. Then she discarded a joker.
“What?” He exclaimed, voice rising. “You can’t discard twenty-five points. No way.”
Kate’s eyes twinkled.
“Show me your hand.” He captured her hand, pulling her forward while exposing her cards.
Her body shook with laughter as he did a mental count of the points she held. He’d have won if she’d kept the joker. He shook his head, amused, but not ready to give up without a fight, and not ready to release her hand. “Nope. Can’t discard a joker.”
She nodded her disagreement, not bothering to contain her glee.
“I never took you for a cheater, Kate,” he growled half-heartedly. She was so damned cute, eyes bright, cheeks flushed pink with triumph. Another tug of his hand and she’d be in his lap where he could have his way with her saucy mouth.
The air between them instantly crackled, like she’d heard his thoughts over a loudspeaker. For a heart-stopping moment neither of them breathed. Kate’s eyes darkened, and her tongue flicked across her lower lip. Ahh, hell. If she was anyone other than the woman he’d failed to protect, he’d take her in a hot second. Send her to heights she’d only imagined in her hottest dreams. Instead, he dropped her hand like a hot stone. People like him never got the girl. He was living proof.
Ignoring the flash of disappointment in her eyes, he grabbed their discarded ice-cream bowls and stood, stalking to the sink. The thought hit him like a bullet to the chest. He’d be washing her undergarments. For a week. Fuuuuck. He squirted too much soap on the sponge as he failed to drag his thoughts away from her unmentionables. God, she better wear only granny pants and sports bras. He’d fucking die if he had to wash lacy underthings. Heat shot up his legs, flaming his body at the thought of Kate clad only in lacy, see-through underwear. With a swallow, he placed the dishes on the counter, the space suddenly feeling too close, too hot. Fuck him for upping the ante. He must be some kind of glutton for torture.
She tapped quietly on the counter, asking for his attention.
Steeling himself, he turned, heart squeezing at the question in her eyes. “I… ah…” Unable to stop himself, he stepped close enough to feel the heat of her. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Thanks for tonight. It was… nice.” Nice? He shuddered. Visiting someone’s grandma was nice. Spending an evening with Kate was so much better than nice.
Her face fell.
God, he was totally bungling this. But it was for the best. He couldn’t act on any feelings that might be developing between them. Ever. Because he’d fail her and he couldn’t live with himself if he did that again.
He itched to touch her, and he raised his hand, only to drop it again. “I’ll be by in the morning? Have your laundry ready.”
He stepped around her, forcing himself not to look back as he let himself out into the cold starry night and took himself home. Alone.
CHAPTER 10
Kate shook out her hands, as she glanced at the clock one last time. She’d been a breath away from making the eleven-hour drive back to Nashville for her final consult, but Cheyenne had urged her to reconsider. Better to lay low, she’d texted. Helene is on the warpath.
Cheyenne was right. Returning to Nashville would only rip open a giant scab. And she didn’t have the energy to deal with the suffocating presence of her mother or Franco at the moment. She’d arranged to borrow Elaine’s SUV for the day to make the trip over to the Voice and Swallow center at the University of Kansas. Her doctor at home had recommended an otolaryngologist there who specialized in vocal disorders. She cringed at that label. Vocal disorders. Thinking of her voice that way sent rivers of despair through her. She desperately wanted to believe she could sing again, but the pit of dread in her stomach told her it was over. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. This never would have happened if you’d had good technique. She was finished.
Still…
She could hope.
Grabbing her purse, she left her trailer and made her way over the rise to the main house. But she stopped short when she reached the yard. “Cheyenne?”
Her friend hopped off the hood of a rental car and walked over, grinning.
“I told you, you didn’t need to come.”
“Are you kidding? I’m not letting you do this by yourself. Besides…” She tilted her head to where Cash and Travis were working on the foreman’s plot. “Can’t beat the view.”
As if on cue, Cash turned and waved, then dropped his shovel and joined them. “Girls day out?”
Her cheeks flamed, and she shrugged, looking down. Cash stirred up too many emotions in her lately. There were times she swore he was going to kiss her and her body would tighten in anticipation, only to be disappointed when he inevitably gave her the brush-off. As embarrassing as it might be, maybe she needed to get over herself and ask Cheyenne for dating tips. Clearly, she was doing something wrong.
Cheyenne stuck out her hand. “I’m Cheyenne.”
“I’m Cash. You visiting Kate?”
“Just for the day.”
“Nice. Have fun.” He turned the force of his gaze to her, and her stomach flip-flopped like it did every time. “Up for another round of cards tonight?”
Her stomach did the Macarena as she nodded, body going hot everywhere.
Cheyenne tugged on her elbow. “We’re going to be late. See you ’round, Cash.”
Cheyenne practically dragged her to the car, but as she pulled open the passenger door, she glanced back, blood turning molten at the way Cash watched her. Giving him a wave, she ducked into the car where Cheyenne bristled with unasked questions.
“Kate…” Cheyenne asked her voice dripping with curiosity as she swung the car around and headed down the long drive.
“Wait,” she said softly.
When they pulled out onto the main road, Cheyenne glanced over. “Spill.”
Her face heated, and she bit her lip trying not to smile. She’d never been good at hiding her feelings.
“You’ve been keeping things from me, Kate,” Cheyenne scolded. “And I’ve been jumping through hoops dealing with your mother and the paparazzi. No fair. Spill the beans.”
“How are things at home?”
Cheyenne gave her a sideways stink-eye and sighed dramatically. “The paparazzi are still parked outside the gate. They chase down my car every time I leave, until they realize I’m alone. And your mom thinks she can wear me down into telling her where you’re at, so she’s just peachy. But enough about home. WHO IS CASH?”
The flush on Kate’s face turned to
fire.
“Holy shit, Kate. I’ve never seen you this red. Are you in love with this guy?”
She swallowed. She couldn’t possibly be falling in love with him, could she? They hadn’t even kissed. For sure, deep like. But love? “I… I-I don’t know.”
“Do your toes curl when you kiss him?”
She shut her eyes. Cheyenne was so much more worldly than she was. “We haven’t kissed.”
“What? Are you kidding? Girl, you need to fix that asap.”
“I- I’m not sure he’s interested.”
“Oh, he is.”
“I feel like every time we get close, like we might kiss, he pulls away.”
“Then you just need to grab that sexy lumberjack face and lay one on him.”
“I can’t do that,” she wailed softly, still afraid she’d strain her voice. “And I feel like I’m lying to him. Don’t I need to tell him who I am?”
“Are you or are you not legitimately Kate Montgomery?”
“I am.”
“So what’s the problem? Isn’t this about taking control of your life? About being the real you?”
“Yeah. It is.”
Cheyenne tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Here’s what you need to ask yourself – is not telling them that you’re also Kaycee Starr going to hurt them?”
“Nooo… but I hate that I feel dishonest. Everyone’s been so good to me.”
“And isn’t it nice to know their goodness has nothing to do with you being Kaycee Starr?”
Kate nodded. Yeah. It did. It meant so much to her that at Resolution Ranch, she was just another person pulling her weight and working as hard as everyone else. No judgment. No special treatment.
“You have to remember, loose lips sink ships. The more people who know you’re Kaycee, the more likely it is that one of them will slip, and then the paparazzi will rain down. Is a security nightmare going to help the ranch or the veterans who live there?”
“You’re right.” Kate stared out the window, seeing but not really seeing the golden hills punctuated by naked trees and cedars. The closer they got to Lawrence, the slower they seemed to drive. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the Voice and Swallow center on the KU campus, Kate vibrated with anxiety, her mouth dry as cotton.
The waiting room was cold. Or maybe it was just her. She gripped Cheyenne’s hand as they walked back to the exam room. Cheyenne leaned over. “I need my hands to play. Don’t break me,” she whispered.
Oh.
She forced her hand open, releasing Cheyenne’s. The nurse came in and gave her the numbing spray. The minutes dragged by as the hollow in her stomach grew bigger and bigger.
At last, a tall, thin man with graying hair and glasses stepped in, extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Pingree. Dr. Thompson in Nashville sent your records. How are you feeling?”
Kate shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” The backs of her teeth were numb. “I’ve been afraid to do much.”
He nodded sympathetically. “I understand. It’s normal to feel that way. Let’s have a look, shall we?”
He pulled the snaky contraption off the counter, wiping it down and then adding a gel to the tip where a bright light shone. “You’ve seen one of these before, yes?”
Kate nodded, fear fisting in her chest. She hated the laryngoscope. Hated she knew its name and that she was intimately familiar with its workings.
“Okay, let’s take a look. You’ve been numbed, and I’ve added a little numbing gel to the tip to make it easier as we pass through your sinuses.”
Cheyenne gave her hand a squeeze, and she blinked rapidly, quelling the fear rising through her.
“Now, just breathe easy. Keep your soft palate relaxed.”
Right. Easy to do when you didn’t have a plastic snake with a camera winding its way through your head. Dr. Pingree worked quickly, and in no time she was aware of the camera in the back of her throat. She fought the urge to gag. This would only last a few minutes.
“Alrighty. I see your vocal folds. I’m going to try and get a closer view. I want you to take a big breath and then say eeee. Ready?”
She took a big breath, bracing for the awkward sensation. There was nothing normal about a camera going down your throat. “Eeeeeeeeeeee.”
“Good. Again.”
She blinked rapidly, taking another breath. “Eeeeeeeeee.”
“Excellent. Good job. One more deep breath.”
She fought the urge to gag and did as she was told, sagging in relief when he removed the camera.
Cheyenne leaned over. “You looked like E.T.”
Kate snorted. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
Dr. Pingree flipped on the lights. “Let’s look at the pictures we captured.” He clicked a few buttons on a remote and pictures of her vocal cords came up on the screen. Kate’s heart sank. She’d seen enough photos since before her surgery, she knew what to look for.
“Let’s look at the good news first.”
Nausea roiled through her. Gearing up to take the bad news as gracefully as possible.
“Fifty-percent of your varicosities have diminished. That’s good. That reduces the potential for hemorrhaging again.”
Yay. She should feel positive about that. The vocal rest had helped. But not enough.
“But I’m concerned about this thickness at the incision site. You’ve got significant scarring where your surgeon drained the cysts. There’s been no change at that site over the last three months.”
“None at all?” Cheyenne asked incredulously.
Dr. Pingree shook his head, giving her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. We don’t know why, but in a small percentage of our patients, surgery triggers permanent callousing and edema at the incision site.”
Kate clutched the arms of the chair, reeling. Her body went hot and cold. She looked at Cheyenne. This was so much worse than she’d ever imagined. Her heart began to shatter into a million tiny pieces. All these months of enforced silence. Of nearly going crazy from the waiting. Of feeling like she walked on a knife edge, and the only thing keeping her from tottering over was the mantra that this was only temporary. That there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
“What exactly does this mean?” Cheyenne asked.
Dr. Pingree studied the pictures in the folder, then the ones on the screen. “Truthfully? You’ll probably always be a little hoarse with this kind of damage.”
“But can I sing?” Kate asked. “I have to be able to sing.”
Dr. Pingree made a face. “You could… But I wouldn’t advise it. The more you use your voice – even in speaking, the more you’ll irritate the damage already there. If you irritate it enough, it could lead to paralysis of the vocal cords.”
“But it’s my livelihood.”
Dr. Pingree’s eyes softened. “You might want to consider a new career. I’m not saying it’s out of the question, but I don’t advise it. If you wanted to try, you’d need to start slowly. Light talking. No yelling. And no more than ten minutes a day of singing. If it feels okay after a few weeks, move up incrementally. But know the risks, and if it hurts, stop. Or you’ll risk paralysis.”
“What about more vocal rest?” She was grasping at straws. In her heart of hearts, she knew it. But she couldn’t bear it.
Dr. Pingree sighed heavily. “You could try. But I think it’s time to consider your quality of life, too.”
“So that’s it?” Cheyenne asked flatly. “There’s nothing more we can do?”
“I’m so sorry.” Dr. Pingree shook his head.
“Just one question,” Kate asked, hearing her mother in her head. “Did this happen because I had bad technique? Because I was a bad singer?”
Dr. Pingree rifled through the folder, reading, then shook his head. “We could talk about technique. About how the vocal folds vibrate optimally, but truthfully, most vocal damage such as yours is triggered by a single event. Coughing or sneezing, or prolonged yelling, and then exacerbated by overuse
of the voice. The best technique in the world won’t save a voice from fatigue. It’s a muscle like any other muscle. If you overuse it and don’t give it adequate recovery time, it fails.”
Cheyenne looked at her and raised her eyebrows, knowing why she’d asked. Cheyenne had been there when Helene had berated her. It was cold comfort now, but Cheyenne would make sure Helene no longer brought up her singing ability.
“Thank you for your time, doctor,” Kate whispered.
“I’m sorry I don’t have better news. Good luck with whatever you decide to do moving forward.”
Kate let Cheyenne lead her from the office and stared straight ahead as they pulled back onto the highway.
“Feel like tying one on?” Cheyenne said brightly. “I know it’s only one o’clock on a Monday…”
Kate laughed bitterly, shaking her head. She would not cry. Not even in front of her best friend. She wouldn’t do it, even though the ache in her chest consumed her.
She appreciated Cheyenne’s attempts at conversation during the drive home, but she just… couldn’t. She stared out the window, wrapped in a cloak of numbness. When Cheyenne pulled to a stop in the yard back at the ranch, she finally spoke. “Well, at least I learned to play the mandolin.”
Cheyenne reached across the console, wrapping her in a hug. “Aww, hon. If that’s what you want to do, I have connections.”
They both let out sad laughs.
“Do you want me to stay? I can change my flight.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Kate shut her eyes, nodding. “Yes. Okay, no. But I have to learn, right?” She gave Cheyenne a weak smile. “I have to learn how to be fine with this.”
“Okay. I’m only a phone call away. You tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of it. Take as much time as you need.”
