“Lay back.”
I obey, only moving when I feel his hands on my dress, pushing it up past my panties.
“Hey!”
“Shut up, woman. Let me undress you so you can get comfortable. Come on, Mika. I don’t care about your underwear, babe. You got nothing I haven’t seen a thousand times before.”
Oh brother, I think, acquiescing with a grumble because I do not like hearing that Hawk is a hound dog with a bedpost filled with notches. I prefer to think of him as a eunuch with little to no sex appeal for other women.
So sue me, okay? So what if I have this tiny, almost non-existent crush on my arch nemesis? I didn’t once say I survived the big C with all my brain cells intact.
The dress comes off easily, making me aware that he’s really comfortable with undressing women, and I peel an eyelid to see him pulling my shoes off, his eyes firmly fixed away from my boobs and panties.
Nope, no bra, but I won’t feel embarrassed, because he insisted on undressing me and, ya know, I got good boobs. They’re the one thing on me that didn’t shrink or suffer from chemo or radiation, and I really like them.
Guys do too, and I see this when he finally glances at me and swallows.
“Panties on or off?”
Oooh, I feel like hell. I do, and if he even thinks of touching me in an untoward way, I will hurl all over him. I just know I will, but I still have a mean streak a mile long, so I huff and tell him off.
Hawk grunts and pulls them away, tossing them to the floor before whipping the sheet up to cover my nudity. This is the part where I expect him to leave and maybe keep checking on me every so often, but he shocks me by removing his shoes and shirt and then getting up onto the bed beside me, staying on top of the covers.
“Hawk?”
“Hush, Mika. Just go to sleep and let me keep an eye on you. You’re safe with me. I promise.”
He never truly speaks to a person, more like growls and grunts and uses this commanding tone, just as he’s doing now, but I feel warmth spread through me because under all that gruff I hear a man who is concerned and maybe cares a little.
I don’t feel great hearing him assure me that I am safe from his advances, not lying here naked after he saw my all. I mean, I am a girl, female, you know, that species of beings who likes to know men find them irresistible even when they smell bad and look like shit.
I don’t respond to him, just turn my back to him and snuggle down, praying to God that what I am feeling is a headache because I know this feeling and I am terrified that it’s something I can’t face. Not again.
“Hey, Meek?”
“Yeah?” I mumble, closing my eyes and hoping those pills start working before the top of my head comes off.
“I’m sorry I was rude to you about being drunk.”
The apology is so unexpected I find myself turning, slowly, so as not to slip the sheet and flash him and also because my head feels like a lead weight dangling off the spaghetti that is my neck.
“It’s okay. I wasn’t exactly convincing.”
“You feeling okay?”
This concern isn’t like him, and I don’t really know that I can deal with it, but I feel a little better, if fuzzy, when the throbbing in my brain starts lessening.
I feel good enough that for once I don’t feel defensive, even if he is being weird and reminding me of Leila and her understanding concern. I hate it, but I get that right now he’s just trying to be nice.
“No,” I whisper, closing my eyes when I see his head turn and his eyes pin on me.
“Talk to me, babe.”
I don’t want to though. I want to go to sleep and pretend and not think. I want to lay here in a bed, naked and knowing that I don’t have to perform, because he doesn’t expect anything from me. Mostly I just want to stop thinking.
But this is Hawk, and I have to face facts. If not tonight then tomorrow he’ll be up my ass about tonight.
“I just feel…blah. I don’t care about partying and going out with my friends, and all I want to do is go home and not do anything. Have you ever felt like just existing for a while and not having to be what other people need?” I ask.
“A lot, if you want me to be honest,” he answers after a while of companionable silence.
“Really? You?”
“Yeah, me,” he mumbles sourly. “What do you think, Meek, that I just don’t give a shit? That’s not true. I do. But sometimes, after a long job in some hellhole, I just want to come home and not be with anyone.”
I snort, and the bed shakes when he chuckles because I know with Rain Wylder as a mother that is not happening.
“Your mom.”
“Yep. The only ones going out regularly now are me and Lyon, and he’s taken a leave of absence to help Leila with the wedding, so when I do get home, she’s on me like the plague. Yesterday she brought me three casseroles and tried to clean my house,” he mutters.
I’d laugh but I feel awful, and I don’t find it funny anyway because it’s shocking to have to look at this man and think that he feels the same way I do sometimes.
“Sometimes having family sucks.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Hey, Hawk?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever just wanna run away and live out in the middle of nowhere?”
I do. Sometimes when Mom or Dad or even Leila call me twice a day and Al is trying to check my temperature at the office and Lynx won’t let me step a foot out of the air-conditioned office, I want to run and not look back.
It sounds pathetic, and I get that my maudlin thoughts are tragic, but I’m not feeling so great right now, and I have the right to throw a little pity party every once in a while.
“No.”
“Never?”
“Nope, because I just usually tell people to fuck off if I don’t feel like socializing,” he mumbles, making me giggle with a groan of pain.
“Your mom?”
He snorts at the teasing and rolls to look up at the ceiling.
“Sometimes I don’t answer the phone. You should try it, Mika.”
I huff and roll my eyes even though it hurts and he can’t see me.
“Dude, I’d have the fire department breaking the door down and EMTs checking me over in an hour flat if I did that.”
Hawk snarls at the despondent tone of my voice and takes my hand, squeezing it once before letting me go.
“It must suck a lot. I know I complain to myself about having Mom coddle my grown ass, but having so many people up your ass all the time must be exhausting. I know I want to go nuts when Mom comes at me motherly instincts blazing.”
I feel like we’re the same, sorta, and that alikeness makes me feel less like killing him, because I get it. We may not be friends in the strictest sense, but it feels nice to talk to someone who understands.
“Maybe you could hide out with me sometimes. You know, just shut the world out and be co-conspirators,” I mumble. “You could ignore me, and I’ll ignore you, and we’d ignore the world together.”
He grunts, not really answering, but I manage to get a head pat for my efforts.
“Go to sleep, Mika.”
I do, smiling when I feel him stroke my hair just before I drop off. Maybe we can be friends, I think just before sweet oblivion hits me.
Chapter Four
Mika
Oh God, it’s worse. It’s so much worse when I open my eyes the next morning and moan while trying to shove my head under the pillow, the glare of sunlight streaming through the windows turning my eyes into burning balls of pain.
I swear to God there is a little demon with a pickax chipping dead pieces of brain off and the bleeding is creating pressure that hurts me everywhere above the neck.
My body hurts too, and I want to puke so bad I swallow repeatedly before my stomach gets the message and just roils dangerously. I am dying. I really am, I think when breathing becomes an effort that hurts me.
I need to get up. I can’t just la
y here and feel bad, but I’m unable to even roll out from the haven of the pillow because my arms and legs feel like a weight is attached to them.
“Mika.”
I groan when I hear Hawk behind me and push myself hard to roll over and look at him. Pickax. In my skull.
“Goddammit! We are going to the doctor,” he snarls when he looks at me, my stomach snarling while I breathe and beg it not to let go.
There’s nothing in there, and from the old days, I know the feeling of retching with nothing going on down below. It hurts. Hell, it’s terrible, and I do not want to streak past Hawk, shove my ass in the air over the toilet bowl, and try to rearrange my stomach lining.
“‘Kay.”
I can’t deny him this, because I’m lucky to have him here right now. I feel awful enough that even I would be calling Leila right now to come take me to the hospital.
I’d hate to do that because I don’t think I can deal with her worrying about me.
Hawk huffs out a breath and dresses me. I don’t even care that he’s seeing my everything in the clear light of day. My panties and dress are put on with an economy of movement, and he doesn’t even bother with my shoes before lifting me and leaving the room.
We’re in the truck before I can say a word, and I watch from slitted eyes as he pulls out of the driveway with his jaw clenched.
“Sorry, Hawk.”
“Don’t start that shit with me, Mika! Jesus, you look like shit,” he snarls, making me laugh because the Hawk of last night is gone and in his place is the man I know.
I’d snark back and tell him he’s no oil painting but I don’t have the strength, and anyway, it’s not true. He looks good, freshly showered, and smelling like whatever spicy cologne he uses, while all I can do is flop around in the seat against the belt and try not to see the scenery blurring by.
“Feel bad.”
“I know, baby. I know that, and I’ll make it better. You need a bag or something?”
“No. Just get us there.”
I won’t cry, even though I want to because I am as terrified as I am sick right now. My body hurts, all over. My head feels like it’s not mine, and I’m hungry and sick to my stomach at the same time.
We get to the hospital fast, and I smile at the thought of my badass speeding illegally through town. He doesn’t let me even open the door, and carries me into the ER, yelling at the woman at the desk when she suggests we sit in the waiting area.
“Like hell. Tell Granger Forbes that Hawk Wylder is here.”
I don’t know who that is, but it gets the chick hopping, and it’s maybe five minutes of lying in Hawk’s arms while he glares at everyone before a portly little old man in a white coat rushes over.
“Wylder.”
“She’s sick. Fix it.”
I do laugh then, hard, despite the way I feel, because he doesn’t brook any argument and sounds like a dictator. The man does jump though, directing us to a private room where Hawk puts me down on a bed with a gentleness that startles me.
“Now, then,” he says, snapping on gloves. “What’s the problem?”
“She had a headache last night, and I found her puking her ass off. She was running a temp and lethargic. She slept ten hours flat and didn’t move even when I had to bathe her with a wet cloth.”
Ooookay. We’ll discuss that little issue later, I think, swallowing loudly.
I have a full workup and don’t even flinch when he starts poking me with needles and yells at a nurse to put a rush on labs.
“I had cancer eight years ago.”
I say it, even when it sticks in my throat, because I can’t just not mention it. It’s a harsh reality, one I don’t want to face, but he needs to know, and honestly, I don’t want to walk out of here with a ticking time bomb inside me. Even if it’s bound to explode no matter what.
“Okay. Talk to me.”
I do, feeling grateful when Hawk takes my hand and holds me as I put it all out there. Doctor Forbes gives me that patented doctor look, the one that’s reassuring even while he starts scribbling notes and leaves without a word.
“Shit.”
“Yep.”
“You think…?” Hawk asks, muttering a curse when he can’t continue.
“Don’t know. I don’t think so, but I can’t ignore it anymore,” I admit, closing my eyes with a frown. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? If it’s…bad, just don’t tell anyone until I’m ready.”
That makes him tense, and I know that he doesn’t agree, but this is my life, my choice, and I refuse to surrender this freedom that I have from my family, though God knows it’s not exactly ideal with them constantly on my back.
“Mika, you can’t just keep these things from the people who love you.”
“Oh yeah? You ever had your mother crying all the time while someone shoved poison into you? Or have your sister sitting at your bedside for hours sobbing while you pretend to sleep because there isn’t a thing you can do to make her stop unless you pretend to feel better? Only, you know, I couldn’t do that when I felt like I was going to die from pain and exhaustion. I can’t deal with it all and also have them swarming around me like flies!”
Not again. If I’d been older like I am now, I would have dealt with it differently and not involved anyone unless I had to. It sucks being sick and in pain, but it sucks even harder having your family depending on you to be upbeat about life and pretend you aren’t in excruciating pain just so they feel better.
“Jesus, Mika.”
I second that and keep myself calm by saying that it could be anything. I’ve had a scare before, and it turned out to be food poisoning that hit me when I ate shellfish from a food cart. Dumb, but you only really live once, twice in my case, and it smelled and tasted so good.
“It’s not going to happen,” I say, wanting to comfort him like I always had to with Leila.
“Don’t do that shit with me, girl. I’m a grown-ass man. If you’re sick, I can deal with it without you having to pretend you’re okay.”
Those harsh words, barked though they are, make me tear up because I love him for saying just what I need to hear. My lips tremble, and I look up at him, not capable of staying strong a minute longer now that I have someone stronger with me.
Hawk just freezes and stares at me before cursing and pulling me into his arms. His heat, unlike last night, is a good feeling, and I hiccup into his neck and let my tears fall.
“I’m scared.”
“I know. I know you are.”
Not exactly soothing, but at least he’s honest and not telling me that leprechauns shit rainbows.
“It’ll be fine. It’s just a bug. I can get some medicine and veg out on the couch and pop pills until I’m better,” I say, pushing closer to just take in the warm hand stroking my back.
Hawk grunts as if he can’t deign to comment on that, and we remain that way until the doctor comes back what must be an hour later.
“I checked your records and just spoke to your oncologist, Mika. He says you skipped a checkup recently.”
Hawk mutters under his breath, and I push away to throw him a look of disgust.
“Yeah, but only because I don’t think I need to go for the stupid things every six goddamn months for the rest of my life. I felt fine until last night. I swear,” I say, begging him silently to understand.
“Yeah, and I do understand. Survivors hate this part as much as the illness, Mika. Trust me, I get it, but you had stage two cancer that was caught just in time. You took so much chemo and radiation it’s frankly a miracle you lived that long, never mind going into remission. The checkups are for your own safety.”
“Yeah. But they’re so, agh, they’re so constant. I just wanted one year of freedom from that fucking shit!” I yell, getting worked up because I still feel awful and now I feel guilty too.
Doctor Forbes sighs and smiles sadly.
“Well, I have some good new and then bad. Which first?”
“Good,” Hawk growls, putting a
n arm around me as if he thinks I need support.
“The good news is that you have a virus that’s going around right now. Now, I don’t want you to get all smug, Mika. You’re getting hit hard by this because your body won’t ever just fight things off after everything it’s been through. I take it from the dress that you went out last night and had alcohol?”
“Half a glass of rum and coke. I couldn’t finish it,” I admit, shifting with a blush.
“That’s fine, not over excessive. But the way you’re reacting to a common virus worries me. All your blood work isn’t in yet, but I’m pretty sure you just need to take something and rest. I’ll prescribe something for you, and if you don’t start feeling better tomorrow, I want you back here.”
Oh God. Sweet Jesus, thank you.
“What’s the bad news?” Hawk asks, that gruff snarl making the doctor laugh and throw me a wink.
Oh great, he couldn’t just let me have one moment of victory.
“I’ve scheduled a CT for next week. I want a full workup and your promise that you’ll do it before I’ll let you set foot out of this hospital. You’ve been in remission for a long time, Mika, and I know that the constant reminder isn’t easy for you, but like I said, this is not a common reaction to a simple virus, and I want to make sure there’s no underlying reason behind this.”
I stiffen and feel Hawk tense and look down at me, his face showing exactly how unhappy he is with this news. I understand though. I feel way too sick to be suffering from something that most people would call a little bug. It could be the cancer coming back, my liver, kidneys, any number of things.
My body was shot after all the treatments, and he’s right. I am lucky to be alive, so, yeah, I understand his insistence. I just don’t like it.
But as long as he does something about this awful sickness I feel, I’m game for whatever he needs. I can deal with what I feel later.
“Fine. Just fix me. My head is fit to bursting.”
I see Hawk wince minutes later when they hook me up to a drip, and I smile at Dr. Forbes when I feel the fuzziness of a sedative take its grip on me.
“She’ll sleep for the next few hours. You can take her home as soon as that little bag of fluids is done. I’ll send someone in to get her set, but if she’s alone, I’d advise you to call someone to stay with her. She’s not gonna feel great for at least a day or two.”
WYLDER Page 62
