“Eh, I’m kinda fond of you too.”
He tickled her hip, and she tried to jerk out of his embrace, but he held her tightly, squeezing till she squealed and giggled. His answering grin was wide and unhindered while she wrestled within his grasp, tempting his body, and securing the hold she had on his heart.
“Mean,” she grumbled when he stopped and pulled her back into a hug.
“Never implied that I wasn’t.”
“Valid.”
“Just as long as we’re clear.”
“Crystal,” she murmured into his shirt, her head just at his heart.
He rested his chin on her head, enjoying the moment. But something else was bothering him. “How was this past week? Anything I need to know about Jack?” It was the usual conversation they’d had once Jack was in bed, but now seemed like a good time. Get it over and done with.
Laken tensed beneath his grasp. “He had a rough week. Today is his best day, actually. Tuesday and Thursday, he didn’t even get up from bed. Yesterday, he did for a few hours, but only made it as far as the living room. Today, he made it to the kitchen. That’s when you came in.”
Cyler nodded. Jack’s face was drawn; his angular cheeks had grown sharper each time Cyler had come back to the ranch.
“How’s his pain?” he asked, remembering the doctor’s visit.
“Dr. Wills has balanced the medication well. Right now, Jack’s good on that end.”
“At least there’s one good thing,” Cyler encouraged.
“For now,” Laken answered, her tone solemn.
“For now,” Cyler affirmed. Damn it, he was starting to worry about Jack. A hell of a lot of good it would do, but the old devil was kinda growing on him. Damn, that left a bitter taste in his mouth just thinking it.
“I’m glad you cleared the air, Cyler. Honestly, I’m going to shift into palliative-nurse mode for a second, okay?” She disengaged from his arms and took a step back, her expression soft and compassionate.
“Fine, but be quick about it. I want the girlfriend back.” He tried to tease, but judging by the look on her face, his efforts had fallen short.
“Based on the timeline from Dr. Wills, this last month is going to be rough. Right now, you’re seeing the best. Jack’s going to start spiraling, and with each loop of the spiral, it will go quicker. Next week when you come back, he won’t be leaving his room. The week after, he won’t be breathing on his own. The week after that, he’ll be under heavy sedation to manage his pain, and the week after that, you’ll be saying your final goodbye. What I’m saying is that if you have anything else to speak about with Jack, do it now. Each day is a new chance, and those chances are numbered.” Laken lifted her chin, as if putting on a brave face, for him.
“I realize that.” Cyler nodded. “You know, death really sucks.” He sighed. “Steals your dignity and your chances. But I think Jack and I have a truce of some sort, so don’t worry your pretty little head, alright? And I’ll be sure that if I need to pick a fight with the old man, I’ll do it now. Wouldn’t want an unfair fight. That’s unsporting.” He tried to lighten the mood again.
This time his efforts were rewarded with a small tip of Laken’s lips into a grin. “Wouldn’t want an unfair fight.”
“Nope.”
With a shake of her head, she walked back into his waiting arms. “We should go inside. Jack will need help getting to his room.”
“Getting cockblocked by the old man. Damn it,” Cyler teased.
Laken pinched his ass, and he jumped, glaring as she giggled and released him.
“And you said I was mean.”
“Never said I wasn’t,” she shot back, using his words against him as she strode from the barn and into the evening sun.
“Well, as long as we’re on the same page.” Cyler shook his head and followed her to the house.
“Jack?” Laken called.
“Here, here. It’s about time you guys came back inside. I need help getting to my room. Damn walker,” Jack grumbled from the table in the kitchen.
“Sorry, I was getting bossed around by your son. You should really work on him, Jack,” Laken teased as she entered the kitchen. Rather than grab the walker to the side, she rolled out a folded wheelchair from corner and set it up. “Let’s try this instead.”
Jack’s glare was cold as ice. “I’m not using that damn thing.”
Cyler quickly jumped in, unable to resist. “What? You have something against a beautiful woman pushing you around?”
“Ass.” Jack directed his glare to him.
“What?” Cyler raised his hands innocently.
“Both of you…” Laken arched a brow. “C’mon, Jack. I won’t be pushy. I’ll even let you boss me around and tell me where to go,” she encouraged.
“Because there are so many places to go around here,” Jack muttered. “Fine. Just, get it over with. I’m tired anyway and need my nap. Gotta keep my wits about me with you two around. Lord knows what this one’s planning.” He jabbed his thumb toward Cyler.
“Fair enough,” Cyler answered.
Laken rolled her eyes but was quick to pounce on Jack’s agreement. In short work, she was wheeling him down the hall toward his room.
Cyler glanced around the kitchen, noting that nothing was out for dinner. After checking the fridge, he started to make some spaghetti. As he was browning the beef on the range, a warm hand snaked around his stomach.
“Hungry?” he asked, glancing down to the hand at his waist. Manicured, blood-red nails flexed into his stomach and gently clawed away. His body locked down in cold dread.
“Miss me?”
He’d recognize that voice anywhere; it had haunted his nightmares long enough. Stepping from her clutches, he sidestepped and bit back a shiver of revulsion at the woman before him. A moment later, his brain snapped into gear.
“How the hell did you get in here?” His nostrils flared as he glared at her. He quickly shut off the gas to the burner and put more distance between them.
Breelee swept a length of long brunette hair behind her shoulder as she popped a hip suggestively. “The door was open, and I knocked.” She shrugged delicately.
“In that order?” He cut in.
She sighed dramatically. “Knowing Jack’s condition, I figured the kind thing to do was let myself in and check on him. But I must say, I’m surprised to see you here.” She arched a brow, her gaze narrowing as it trailed from his boots to the top of his head. “Cyler Myer, I must say, you might be a lot of things, but hard to look at isn’t one of them.”
He flexed his fists, feeling his forearms tighten, his blood pounding with fury, but he held his ground. “Sure was a damn-quiet knock.”
“Delicate hands.” She lifted one as if proving her point.
A tic started in his jaw as he studied her. Little had changed about Breelee. Although still attractive, her beauty was of a harsh nature, all hard lines and fake warmth. Her dark brown hair was still the same espresso color, her legs apparently still her favorite asset to flaunt in her cut-off shorts, leaving little to the imagination. Rather than entice him, the very sight of her caused a revulsion to rise in his stomach. All the beauty in the world couldn’t hide such a black heart.
“If that’s all, you can rest assured you did the kind thing and can now show yourself the door. I’m here and have everything under control.” He’d purposefully left out any mention of Laken, hoping to get rid of the she-devil before Laken had to deal with her.
“But surely you need some help.” She tilted her head innocently.
“No, that’s where I come in.” Laken breezed into the kitchen, her face hosting a beatific grin that had Cyler narrowing his eyes. It was too innocent, too perfectly masked.
“Oh.” Breelee turned toward the voice and did a quick onceover of Laken then dismissed her. “And who might you be
?”
“She’s—”
“Palliative care nurse for HCEW.” Laken interrupted his attempt to direct the attention back to himself. She held out her hand to Breelee, her expression open and welcoming.
Breelee relaxed and took her hand, giving one of those weak-ass handshakes that reminded him of an old lady at a country club, afraid to get her hands dirty.
“And you are?” Laken asked, disengaging her hand.
“Breelee Hampton. I’m an old family friend.”
Cyler snickered. “Sure, you are.”
“Lovely, I’ve heard so much about you,” Laken added. “So, you’ll understand if I ask you to respect my patient’s request that only family be present. Can I show you the door, Miss Hampton?”
Breelee narrowed her eyes, studying Laken, probably trying to figure out if the nurse standing before her was as innocent as she looked, and if she had any chance of manipulating her.
“Well, it is late. It might be better if I come by a different time.” Breelee spoke carefully, her gaze never leaving Laken, testing the waters likely.
“You’re more than welcome to call and make arrangements. In fact, here’s my number.” Laken walked over to the counter beside Cyler, picked up her purse, and withdrew a card. Before she turned, she gave him a quick wink and walked back to Breelee. “Here you are. It was great to put a face with the name, and I hope you have a great evening. It’s beautiful outside, isn’t it?”
Laken gestured to the hall, and Breelee’s brow furrowed, but she followed. Laken escorted her to the door then closed and locked it. Soon he was standing behind her, pulling her back against his chest as he watched Breelee drive away.
“Ok, so I figured you had a plan, but would you mind telling me what the hell that was?” he murmured into her hair, holding her close, finally relaxing knowing that Breelee was putting distance between them.
“She’s not the first nor the last person with selfish intentions who’s tried to rebuild a relationship with one of my patients. Honestly, they come out of the woodwork once they hear that someone is passing, and when that person has any sort of monetary value…” She let the words linger, a lamenting tone to her voice. “It’s easy to pick them out from the rest who, honestly, are only trying to make things right for the sake of making peace. People like that”—she nodded toward the window—“are only after what they can do to benefit themselves.”
Cyler rubbed his nose along her head, taking a deep breath. “Well, you got rid of her faster than I was able to,” he admitted, “and with less violence.”
At that, Laken giggled. “Yeah, I figured. You were in full fight-mode. You should have seen yourself when I walked into the kitchen.” She shook her head. “Basically, I was thinking how do I keep him from prison?” she teased.
“That’s not too far from the truth.”
“People like her will only rise to the occasion to fight. They use it as justification. I mean, if you’re an ass to her, then she will use that to quantify her reasoning to be here. I mean, if you’re an ass to her, surely you’re an ass to Jack, and someone needs to help.” She sighed. “You see, don’t you? People always have reasons, and they’ll twist them as much as possible to make themselves look good. Even if the only person they look good to is themselves.” She took a deep breath through her nose, her head lowering as if weighed down by the truth of it all.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen a lot.” She drew out the words. “But with the bad there’s always the good.” She turned in his embrace, wrapped her arms around his neck then pulled him down into a kiss. “Also, one more thing. The card I gave her is for people who tend to be problematic. It will connect her to a division of our company that deals with grief and personal growth.”
“Hmm.” He tasted her lips once more, savoring the sensation and the rightness of the moment before pulling away just slightly. “Brilliant and beautiful. It’s kinda sexy.” He nipped at her lower lip, his body hardening as she traced her tongue along the seam of his lips in return. “Ready for bed? I’m exhausted.” He feigned a yawn then pulled her up so that she straddled his hips as he hooked his hands under her sweet ass.
“It’s not even six p.m.,” she shot back, grinning against his lips before meeting his kiss once more.
“I woke up early.”
“Sure, you did.”
Cyler stood and started carrying her toward their room, but Jack’s coughs sliced through the air like ice water, effectively halting his progress. With one glance, he saw Laken’s eyes tighten as she glanced toward the sound. Sighing in resignation, he simply carried her to Jack’s room and set her down before kissing her nose.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured softly, trailing his fingertips down her arm before turning to head back to the kitchen. If he wasn’t getting laid, he might as well restart dinner.
He heard Laken speak softly to Jack, and he couldn’t help but see the twist to what he had said to her. Sure, he wasn’t going anywhere, but Jack? The same wasn’t true for him. Time was sifting away, and in moments like these, an acute realization hit him with the force of a crashing wave. Time was running out.
And Breelee was lurking around.
And life seemed damn complicated.
And unfair.
Closing his eyes, he leaned against the counter. In a way, he’d just forgiven his father, and now that he’d finally released that burden, he felt like he’d been slapped with the reality that his father truly was leaving.
And this time it wasn’t because it was his choice.
Death sucked.
He’d said it once; he’d say it a million times more.
And it never lost its truth.
The hatred and resentment for Jack had defended Cyler like a shield, protecting him from the truth while he was distracted with anger. But with that anger fading, all that was left was raw pain. Never had Cyler felt so helpless, so at a loss. As a man, he wanted to step in, fix it, do something, but it was impossible to fight death.
Eventually, it was one battle everyone lost.
Cyler took in a deep breath, focusing on the sound of the ticking clock in the kitchen, the way the floor creaked slightly from him shifting his feet, things that reminded him of anything other than the demons he couldn’t fight.
“You okay?” Laken broke through his weak moment, and he stood straight, shrugging the weight off and into the darker recesses of his mind.
“I’m good.”
“You suck at lying. I love that about you.” She gave him a soft smile, her gaze understanding. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just need to get some water for Jack.”
Cyler moved over to the side, letting her grab a glass from the cabinet beside him. He watched as she filled it with cool water, his gaze using her as a lifeline. It was a vulnerable position, relying on someone else’s experience, but there was no one else he’d rather trust with his father—or with his heart—than Laken.
She gave a squeeze to his arm and turned back toward Jack’s room.
How did she remain so strong? To see death after death, to deal with families broken, to see lives end, and witness how others have to pick up the pieces and move on. It was astounding.
It was humbling.
But damn it all, it was nice that she at least had one flaw, horrible as that sounded.
With a self-deprecating grin, he turned to the stove.
Woman could do everything else…but cook.
Chapter 18
Blood stained the gauze as Laken helped Jack turn his head so that he wouldn’t aspirate. The steroids he was on tended to make the blood thinner, and that wasn’t doing him any favors. On the flipside, the steroids were allowing him clear airways, so that he could breathe. It was a fighting battle, one they were losing day by day, and each one broke her heart a little more.
“Stop giving me that pitying look, girl,” Jack choked out. “I’m not dying yet, in spite of how I feel. Good Lord, why am I taking all these damn pills if I still feel like shit?”
Laken gave a weak smile. “Just think of how you’d feel if you didn’t take them.”
“Well, when you put it that way—” Jack started another coughing fit.
“Why don’t you just quit arguing with me? Let’s just operate under the premise that I’m always right,” Laken teased, knowing that was often the best way to deal with a hard situation.
Jack glared, but didn’t reply.
“See? Isn’t that easier?” Laken winked.
Jack rolled his eyes.
“I’m going to set up an IV drip with some morphine. It will help with the pain so you can sleep tonight. Sound good? Thumbs-up?” Laken held up a thumb.
Jack twisted his lips but gave thumbs-up reluctantly.
“See? Always right.” Laken walked over to her medical supplies on the other end of the room and pulled out a series of needles, lines, and the morphine drip. In short work, she had everything situated and soon was wrapping Jack’s arm in a tourniquet and checking for a vein. His blood pressure was low, and he was dehydrated, so it took a little longer to find the best option. After a few minutes, she’d successfully inserted the needle and had taped his IV to his wrist and checked the drip.
“Why does it always feel so damn cold?” Jack whispered softly, holding up his hand and studying the needle below it.
“Because it is cold,” Laken replied turning to him. “You’re a toasty ninety-eight-point-six degrees. The fluid is about seventy-two.”
“Dumb question,” Jack muttered softly.
“Get some rest. Are you hungry?” Laken asked, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer. His appetite had waned, and it was to be expected.
“Not if you’re cooking.” Jack gave a tired grin and sunk into his pillows.
“Ha, ha. Funny.” Laken arched a brow. “I think your son is taking care of it, so does that change your mind?” she asked, hopeful.
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