Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  “Callie.”

  Snapping back to the present, I become hyperaware of everything around me. “What?” I yell. Fear starts to choke me. I know what the diagnosis means. A long road of treatment, and if I am lucky, I’ll survive.

  “Stay with me.” Dr. Craig strokes my hand with his thumb, trying to comfort me.

  Tears begin to fill my eyes, the sunlight streaming through the windows looking like stars. “I’m here,” I mumble before a sob breaks free and echoes in the room.

  I have cancer. Cancer. How in the fuck did I get cancer?

  My mind starts to fill with images that haunt me—flashes of my hair falling out in clumps, bruises and lumps covering my porcelain skin, and eventually, a casket. No one hears the word cancer and thinks about living.

  No one.

  Next to the word cancer in the dictionary, it should just say, “the scariest fucking thing in the world that will eventually kill you.”

  People do survive. I know they do. But upon hearing the news, that’s the last thing on my mind.

  “I need a second opinion.” He could be wrong. Medicine is still called a “practice,” and doctors get shit wrong all the time.

  “I had three doctors look over your tests. I’m not wrong, Callie.”

  “No!” I yell before another round of tears begins to fall.

  “Callie,” he whispers and squeezes my hand.

  I pull away, sickened by the entire thing.

  “How bad?” I ask before I close my eyes, biting my lip as I brace myself for the news.

  “It’s treatable.”

  That’s another bullshit phrase. Treatable. What the fuck does that really mean? He didn’t mention curable. Nope. He said treatable.

  Doctors use those words to pacify people. If they were entirely truthful, we would give up and they’d look like the biggest assholes in the world.

  They’ll treat me. I had come up with some of those treatments—helped develop the perfect cocktail to prolong someone’s life just long enough to hopefully find a cure.

  I’m now officially a statistic.

  Callista Gentile: Cancer Patient.

  It no longer matters where my Michael Kors wedges sit.

  I don’t care if my car has been smashed to bits.

  None of it matters.

  I am no longer in the rat race on a quest to buy the next amazing thing.

  I have to fight for my life.

  Stage 1—Denial & Isolation

  My phone rings again. It’s like the tenth time today and it’s the same person. The one person who would hound me day and night for not calling her back—Rebecca.

  For days, I’ve lain around the house, crying my eyes out and on the verge of dehydration, but I couldn’t snap out of it.

  I didn’t care to go out for drinks with the girls. Therefore, I’ve ignored every call from Rebecca.

  Dr. Craig contacted my work and told them I needed to take a leave of absence, yet they still call every day. Each time, I hit ignore. By the third day, I turned my ringer off and threw my phone on my nightstand.

  I don’t want to hear anyone’s sorrow or pity for me. I don’t want to listen to another “I’m sorry.”

  I just want to be alone. If I seal myself inside my apartment, maybe things will be different.

  I sit on my couch, staring at the blank television and thinking about my life. From sunlight to darkness, the nothingness on the screen transfixes me. I’m lost in the emptiness, unable to get death off my mind.

  Day turns into night.

  Night runs into day.

  But I sit there, frozen and lost.

  “Callie,” a voice calls before there’s a loud thud at the front door. I don’t bother to look because I’m not answering. “Goddammit, Callie. Open the damn door.”

  Sitting in silence, except for Rebecca pounding like a maniac, I keep my eyes on the television. Although I know she’d comfort me, the only person I truly want is my mother. But like so many people in the world, I have no one left. I was an only child, and my parents both died before I was twenty. They were estranged from the rest of the family and I was too, by default.

  “I’m not giving up. I’ll be back with reinforcements.” Her footsteps fade as she walks away from my door, and I hold my breath, waiting for the pounding to start again.

  Reinforcements?

  Rebecca’s the closest thing I have to family. We grew up together. Played in each other’s backyards as kids. We dreamed together, lying under the stars as children and sharing our fairy tale of the perfect life.

  We had it. Rebecca still does, but I don’t.

  I’m Callie “Cancer” Gentile.

  No longer am I just me—now, I have a horrible disease overshadowing everything in my life.

  The sunlight fades, slowly crawling back out the window before darkness engulfs the room, but I still don’t move and Rebecca hasn’t returned.

  Denial fades.

  I realize I have it.

  I’m not stupid. No matter how hard I want to wish it away, it’s now a part of me.

  But that doesn’t mean I have to talk to anyone about it. I especially don’t want to talk to Rebecca. I love her, really, I do. She’s my BFF, but right now, I’m envious of her.

  She still has the perfect life. Her greatest worry is what to wear to work tomorrow. She doesn’t have to think about her final moment before dying.

  My eyes open when I hear the door handle start to turn. I don’t bother getting up. Maybe someone is here to kill me and steal all my shit I no longer need. I have no fight left in me and don’t need my fabulous shoe collection when I’ll be too weak to walk someday.

  “Just bust the fuckin’ door down,” Rebecca hollers, and I begin to panic.

  There goes my hope of a quick death and being alone.

  “Are you sure?” a man asks, his deep voice familiar but too faint for me to place.

  “Just do it already!”

  I sit up and stare at the door with wide eyes, all sleep vanishing quickly. Even if she busts it down, I still don’t want to see her. Moving quickly, I stumble to the bathroom and seal myself inside, cloaking myself behind the door in relative safety.

  I want silence. I need to be alone. I haven’t had time to digest everything that has happened. Rebecca being around me won’t help.

  The front door cracks, smashing against the wall; the picture hanging behind it falls to the floor and shatters.

  “Callie?” Rebecca calls out. Her heavy footsteps grow louder as she searches for me.

  “She isn’t here,” the man tells her.

  Even with a door separating us, I cover my ears to block them. It’s childish, I know. But in moments of complete and utter terror, I don’t act rationally.

  “She’s here. Just look for her.” I can hear the panic in her voice, and I want to call out to her, but I don’t.

  I crawl quickly and quietly into the bathtub, sliding down against the porcelain finish and wishing it were filled with water so I could drown away my sorrow.

  “Check the bathroom.”

  The knob turns and I hold my breath. It’s locked, and I will not open it.

  “Damn her.” Rebecca pounds on the door frantically. “Callie, I know you’re in there.”

  I eyeball the pristine white ceiling and wonder what the point of it all is. Why did I bust my ass in school, work countless hours in a lab, just to have it all pulled from my grasp in a moment? I want to do so many things in my life, and now, I never can.

  Rebecca pounds harder and starts to scream. “Open the fucking door!” I don’t budge. “Bust it open!” Within seconds, the man easily forces the door open with a loud crash, and then fills the doorway.

  I close my eyes and start to whisper nonsense to myself. But just like my cancer, they don’t go away.

  “Dammit.” Rebecca’s angry voice echoes against the bathroom tile. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “She doesn’t look good.”

  “You’re
a fuckin’ mess,” she hisses, reaching for my hair and rubbing it between her fingers. “Get her out of the tub please,” she tells Bruno.

  “Go away,” I moan. My voice is faint, and I can’t bring myself to say it with any more conviction.

  As he pushes his arms underneath my back and begins lifting me from the tub, I steal a glance. Oh shit. Why does it have to be him? Bruno.

  Vanity takes over for a moment and I’m filled with embarrassment—until I remember I’m dying. Soon, he’ll see me in a casket, if he’d even attend, with the worst makeup job ever and my hair looking like something out of a Teen Beat magazine.

  “Come on, beautiful,” he tells me with a soft face and kind eyes.

  For a moment, I swoon because he calls me beautiful, and then it fades and I close my eyes again. Resting my head on his chest, I listen to the steady timbre of his heartbeat as he carries me toward the living room. I let myself get lost in the sound.

  “What in the fuck happened here?” Rebecca asks, following close behind us. “What’s wrong with you? I’ve never seen you like this. There’s no excuse for your behavior. You can at least pick up the phone and let me know you’re alive. Jesus Christ. I’ve been in a panic. I thought you were dead.”

  “I will be,” I whisper with my head tucked under Bruno’s chin. He stops walking and glances down at me, but I can’t meet his eyes.

  “You’re soooo fucking dramatic all the time, Cal. You’re not dying. Stop the bullshit. My heart can’t take much more.”

  Bruno’s eyes narrow into small slits and hone in on my gaze. I’d cry if I had any liquid left in my body to spare, but I can’t remember the last time I had a sip of anything. I close my eyes again, unable to take the look on his face. It’s too much for me to bear. “I’m dying, Bec.”

  She doesn’t respond, but her body stiffens. Rebecca sits next to me on the couch after Bruno places me gently at one end.

  “Kid,” Bruno says sweetly, touching my chin and forcing my face to meet his. I can’t look.

  “I want you two to leave.”

  “No.” Rebecca moves closer, pity and fear all over her face, and takes my hands in hers.

  “Please,” I whisper, wishing I could crawl away and out of the reach of their gaze.

  “Callie, baby.” Bruno catches me off guard, and I peer up at him, his fingers still under my chin. “Are you thirsty?” he asks. He tilts his head slightly and a look of concern replaces the pity I saw moments ago. “Your lips are chapped.” The soft pad of his thumb brushes against my sore flesh, and my lips part out of instinct.

  “Jesus. I go on vacation for three days and you fall to shit.” Rebecca sounds like a bitch, but I know it’s only out of fear. I’d probably say the same shit to her if I didn’t know what the hell was going on.

  “Just let me die.”

  “Stop saying that shit.” Rebecca turns to face Bruno. “Grab her some water while I talk some sense into her.” She orders him around so nonchalantly, my mouth falls open.

  His eyes narrow slightly, but he nods and stalks off into the kitchen. I watch him open the cabinets, searching for a glass, and find him a lot more entertaining than the blank television. Rebecca continues to talk, but I tune her out and ogle him.

  Rebecca and I first met Bruno while we were in college. He was the resident bad boy in the neighborhood. Every club he walked into, people knew him by name. Not because he was such a great guy either, but because they feared him.

  I’d seen a grown man literally shake when Bruno yelled at him. Most of it was probably because of his size, but it was definitely because of his eyes. He’d give the Hulk a run for his money being tall, thick, and covered with muscles. He truly is the sexiest scary man I know.

  His size isn’t just what scares the shit out of everyone. Bruno has a way about him. Something that follows him everywhere he goes. There’s darkness to him. You know the type. They’re easy to spot a mile away. When someone like him walks down the street, heading straight for you, you cross the street just to avoid him.

  That’s Bruno.

  Rebecca yells at me like a child, and I ignore her as if I were one. Bruno brings me a glass of ice water and holds it out in front of me. I smile up at him before I grab the glass, feeling the thirst I’d ignored finally taking hold.

  He watches as I gulp down the entire glass, letting the water dribble down my chin without bothering to worry. Bruno sits on the armrest and his eyes bore into me, though I look everywhere but directly at him. His stare is unnerving.

  “Callie, are you listening to me?” Rebecca’s voice is starting to sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  “Rebecca.” Bruno turns his attention to her along with his unnerving stare. “Just shut the fuck up for two seconds.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Let the girl speak.” His eyes dart back to me, pinning me to the spot, and I swallow, instantly feeling parched again.

  I turn the glass in my hands and focus on the small beads of water trickling down my hands. “What day is it?” I ask softly and wince because I know I am about to get my ass chewed out.

  “Friday.” I can’t quite explain the look in his eyes. “What day did you think it was?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug and glance at the ceiling.

  When I finish drinking, Bruno takes the glass from me and sets it on the coffee table. “What happened to you?”

  “I have—” I start hyperventilating. I haven’t spoken the words to anyone besides the doctor until now. “I have—” My lips start to tremble.

  “Shh. Shh,” he whispers and touches my cheek. Bruno kneels and takes my face in his hands. “Everything will be okay. Just tell me what happened.”

  I suck my lip between my teeth, chewing on it so I don’t mouth off. Saying the words makes it even more real, and I know nothing will be okay. We stare at each other, me chewing, him brooding, as he waits for me to reply, but I don’t.

  His thumb gently pulls my lip free. “Come on, Callie. Did someone do something to you? Just say the word and I’ll take care of them,” he says in a strong, comforting tone. Yet it’s also completely scary.

  I shake my head.

  “Did you hurt someone?”

  I shake it again.

  He doesn’t speak; he just studies me, and I do everything in my power not to squirm. I can take Rebecca’s voice, I can even take the constant questions, but I can’t handle the look in his eyes and the way I feel like he can see into my soul.

  “I have cancer,” I confess so softly I barely hear myself. His eyes flash, growing wide for a second before he hides his emotions behind the darkness.

  “What?” Rebecca hops up from her spot on the couch frantically. “You’re not funny.”

  “Shut up, Rebecca.” Bruno jumps up, getting in her face, and she jerks backward. “You’re not fucking helping shit.”

  “She needs to stop playing around. I love the shit out of her, but I can’t lose her.”

  “I’m not,” I argue, glancing up at the two of them standing nose-to-nose and fearing for Bec. “I have cancer.”

  I said the words. I can no longer deny it.

  “Callie,” Rebecca yelps, crumpling on the floor in front of me and resting her head in my lap. I tangle my fingers into her hair, staring up at Bruno for help. Not from the cancer, but from Rebecca. The mourning, the thing I didn’t want to see, is all over her face.

  “Cal,” she whispers. “Talk to me.” But I don’t have anything to say.

  “Rebecca.” Bruno lifts her off the floor by her shoulders, giving me room to breathe. “Callie looks like she could use something to eat. Give her a minute and get something for her.”

  “Bruno,” she snarls. He whispers something in her ear, and she walks away slowly, not looking back.

  If I weren’t dealing with the fact that I had the dreaded C-word, I would’ve laughed at the way he dismissed her. Rebecca has never been quiet nor is she easily ordered around, but he handles her like a pro.


  “I’m not hungry,” I mumble and watch Rebecca as she searches the cabinets.

  He kneels down again and places my hands in his. “Callie, I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through, but you need to eat. You need a shower too.” He whistles with a smile.

  One corner of my mouth twitches, but it isn’t enough to make me smile. Bruno looks good smiling. Who knew? It may be the first time I’ve actually seen him do it. “I’m sorry,” I tell him because I know I must smell less than pretty.

  “How long have you been sitting here, Cal?”

  “I don’t know. Tuesday…maybe.” I wince and ready myself for the scolding I think I have coming.

  “Jesus,” he mutters before scooping me up into his arms. “It’s shower time, sweetheart.”

  “No,” I groan and kick my legs. “Put me down.”

  “Sorry, kid, but you need to shower if we’re going to stay in this apartment. You can’t smell yourself, but the rest of us can.”

  “Bruno.” I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. “Put me the fuck down.”

  He laughs, holding me tighter, and heads toward my bathroom as if I didn’t say a word.

  “I’ll scream,” I warn before I twist my body, trying to break free. But he’s too damn strong and my struggling is futile.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t stay in there with you. What kind of man do you think I am?” He looks down and laughs.

  Oh, God.

  “I don’t really know you at all.” What in the world was Rebecca thinking when she called him? I mean, fuck, call the cops to come here, not Bruno “The Butcher.”

  His smile fades and the laughter vanishes. “I’m a complete gentleman.”

  “Then put me down,” I demand, wiggling a little harder in his arms until he sets me down on the toilet.

  I wring my hands together in my lap, trying to figure out if I should run. There is no way I’d get naked in front of him. No fucking way at all.

  “You need help.” He places his hand under the tub faucet and tests the water with his back to me. “Rebecca will come in here and help you in the bathtub, but I’ll be here when you get out.” He glances at me.

  “I can do it.”