by Susan Ward
There was a fire blazing in the hearth, and I dropped to my knees in front of it, blindly staring straight forward. The flames flickered. That’s how I knew Damon was coming toward me. Then there was a sound beside me. He’d come to sit next to me on the floor, but I wasn’t ready to look at him yet.
His breathing was ragged and hard, whereas mine was practically stopped.
“Let go of what you saw, love. We must concentrate only on what this means.”
I scrambled around in my psyche for a way to push the past hours from my head. Unwelcome tears sprang into my eyes. “It’s really possible for you to do that? Concentrate only on what this means to us?”
“Yes.” His voice was clipped, determined. “It’s the only way we’ll get through this, KK.”
“Yes, but to where?” I mumbled without intending to. “Do we even want to go where this takes us?”
“How can you even wonder that?” he asked, shocked. “Nothing matters but you getting better, Khloe. We’re what matters here.”
“Are we?” I used my sleeve to wipe my dripping nose. It took every ounce of everything I had to turn my chin and look at him. “I used to think that, but there is a line I won’t cross, and I just saw it.”
“Don’t say that,” he whispered raggedly, pulling me into him, but even his embrace didn’t penetrate my deadened senses. His biceps trembled as he held me, then he eased back, taking my cheeks in his hands and tilting my head so his widened amber eyes were all could I see. “You’re going to have the transplant. I’m not letting you leave me yet.”
I gazed at his beautiful face. I never believed I would love anyone as I did Damon. He was everything a man should be. The missing piece of me. The other half of my whole.
“I’m not having the transplant, Damon.”
His eyes widened more, but this time in pure agony. “You don’t mean that.” It was as if I’d knocked the wind out of him. “It’s the shock of all you’ve gone through today. You’re not thinking clearly, Khloe.”
“Oh, no, Damon. I’m very clear of thought. And fear of dying isn’t reason enough to become a part of something so awful for the world.”
Chapter Twenty
Damon
The Past
I FELT UNBALANCED, teetering on the edge of an emotional precipice unlike any I’d ever known. Almost as though I’d been transported too quickly from light into darkness…or maybe a black hole in the sky. Was this what someone suffered when their hope and dreams were lost?
I fought to collect myself as I mechanically ran my hand through my hair. “I refuse to accept that, KK.”
Her reaction to my plea was even more unsettling. A small smile rose on her lips that was sad and loving but, most of all, resolute. “You’re going to have to, Damon. I’m not changing my mind.”
I dropped my head into my hands. A few hours ago, I’d been euphoric with hope, and now it felt like she’d shredded my heart.
Her breathing was even, only a soft purr beside me. How could Khloe be so calm? Was she waiting for me to leave to cry, or was she just resolved?
She moved, easing up on her knees to kiss me on the top of my head. Then she sprang to her feet, and panic seized me.
I jumped to my feet, all but sprinting across the room to prevent her from leaving. “Where are you going? You are not leaving matters there. We haven’t finished discussing this.”
“There’s nothing left to talk about, Damon,” she said softly. “I’m sorry my decision wasn’t the one you wanted. I’ve still got to talk to my parents today, and I haven’t that much energy left. It would be cruel to drag out informing them that I’m not proceeding with the transplant.”
Cruel? Her soft-spoken words plunged me into great alarm. Quickly, I moved around her until I was standing between her and the door.
“You are not going out there and doing to your parents tonight what you just did to me.”
She lowered her gaze to the floor. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Someone needs to.” I closed my fingers around her upper arms and willed her to look at me, but her eyes remained downcast. “Dr. Hern’s research has been their only hope for five years. Have you considered that’s all they’ve had for a very long time to hold onto—the possibility Hern would save you—to keep them strong through everything? Strong for you. Your mother once told me that only love keeps someone alive. Now I understand the full depth and breadth of what Chrissie meant. Their love has kept you alive nine years. And on the day when they’ve been told everything they’ve prayed for has happened, you’re going to rip it from their hands. Devastate them the way…the way you’ve devastated me.”
She slowly lifted her gaze back to mine and stared with red-rimmed eyes. She was so pale, paler than I’d ever seen her. “Delaying my conversation with my parents won’t change my decision, Damon.”
“Perhaps not,” I stated firmly. “But I don’t understand where you’ve left us, love. You’re asking me to go through weeks and months of agony watching you die and us losing our dreams. I deserve for you to explain why you would want me to go through that.”
The world stopped.
It was Khloe who moved first.
Relief gushed through me as she eased down to sit on her knees, and I settled on the floor in front of her, my back against the door.
“Start again,” I commanded, “and explain to me why you won’t have the surgery.”
As her voice filled my ears, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear to look at her now that she was crying.
I TILTED MY HEAD back too fast. It hit hard against the door. The silence in the room was almost as unbearable as hearing Khloe repeat her already-spoken disdain for what Hern had done and how her moral objection left her no other choice.
We’d talked in circles, getting nowhere. I couldn’t get through to her, no matter how I pleaded. She was dug in, in a way I’d never experienced before. Things were very black and white for Khloe. I knew that, but everything she said felt off to me. It felt like somehow I’d missed something as to why she was determined on the only course where there was a sure end, willing to let go of all we’d found together.
She was my life.
She knew that.
What was I missing here?
I sank my fingers into my hair and tightened them until it hurt. I needed to remain composed and not let my anger break through my guard again.
“Tell me again,” I asked. She responded with a soft, frustrated sigh.
“There’s nothing left to say,” she announced. “Not that we haven’t already said twice. Can I go talk to my parents now?”
No!
I struggled to collect words that would get through to her. “So your objection is that you see what Dr. Hern has done as taking science to a gruesome and dangerous place.”
Turning her face away from mine, she swallowed and nodded.
“It’s neither of those things, Khloe.” My gaze roved her profile. Her lips were tight as if she was trying to hold back. “It’s hope. That’s all it is. Should we stop people from the ability to hope because someone somewhere might hope for something awful?”
She shrugged, tired. “I wouldn’t be responsible for that.”
“And you’re not responsible for what may come because you’ve had a transplant. Dr. Hern has already succeeded at the impossible. You can’t turn back the clock by refusing the heart that’s in the lab waiting for you. It’s done, Khloe. And what people do with that science is going to happen anyway.”
Nothing. There was no response.
I stared up at the ceiling, searching for a way to change her mind. The world beyond the skylights was dark. Christ, I couldn’t feel how long we’d been shut away in here arguing. I was physically drained and couldn’t imagine how exhausted she was.
Sensing we needed a pause in this, I asked, “Are you hungry?”
She made a weak nod.
“I could go to the kitchen and
prepare us a tray. I’m sure your parents have already had dinner and been settled into a room by Mrs. Freeburg, but I should probably check and make sure.”
Again, she just nodded.
I took her hands in mine. “Will you stay here until I’m back, love? Please, for me, stay put.”
“I’ll stay,” she agreed with none of her prior resistance. It worried me. It was as if the fight had gone out of her.
“Why don’t you dress for bed while I’m gone? You look exhausted, Khloe.”
I kissed each one of her fingers then left the room.
ONCE OUR BEDROOM DOOR was closed behind me, I collapsed back against the wall and clutched my skull. My limbs were as fatigued as if I’d gone on an uphill marathon, and my warring emotions felt like they were strapped on rockets continuously misfiring inside me.
How the fuck did people go through this? The rapid pitch from high to low, the seemingly unending descent of the low, each second of the day packed with monumental weight crushing my chest to the point I choked for air.
I could hear Khloe’s parents talking from the west wing of the house. Their words echoed. Mrs. Freeburg had no doubt shown them to the great room that faced west after dinner. It had hardwood floors, high ceilings, and no doors with giant windows to gaze across the valley.
I stood there for a moment, shaking my head. They sounded bizarrely normal given the day they’d just had, exactly how Khloe had in the bedroom with me. True, they didn’t know their daughter was going to opt out on their extraordinary gift to her, but merely contemplating the transplant had been an explosive experience for me.
Well, they had had nine years to adjust to buggering on through a life fraught with the whim of illness. They were all much more prepared for days like today than I was.
Damon, it’s time to get your shit together.
I headed in the opposite direction to grab our dinner. I was in no condition to face the Manzones—or anyone else. I couldn’t deal with much more than I was already navigating with Khloe.
I must get her to see reason.
I was lost in my thoughts as I entered the kitchen, and for a moment stood in the center of room, unable to remember why I’d gone in there. I wandered over to the butcher-block center island, where an assortment of warming pans waited. Food would be impossible for me tonight, but there was a steadfast rule in Khloe’s life that she had to eat, no matter what. There was very little reason to believe she would abandon that tonight, but if she did, I was in for another round of arguing.
I lifted off the lids and stared down at what had been our dinner. Roasted plum duck and all the extras. What would Khloe like?
I was about to go to a cabinet for plates when I was unexpectedly grabbed from behind and shoved up against the island. The force of my body sent a silver warmer crashing to the floor, but I felt nothing. Not even outraged that Cody had pounced on me from behind, and I gave no reaction to his furious face.
“You motherfucker,” he snarled. “How could you do that to her? Not warn her what was going down today? Have you any idea what you did to her in there?”
“Back the fuck off,” I snapped, and I attempted to shove him away, but he had three stones on me and a body of iron. My jaw clenched. “You really don’t want to get into this with me tonight, mate. I might accidentally kill you should I start hitting something, and that would devastate Khloe.”
His expression didn’t soften, and neither did his grip. “You’re a fucking disappointment. How long have you known about this?”
This? Oh yes, the goings-on in the lab had ceased to be confidential for Gideon’s boyfriend earlier in the study. Frustrated, I tried to shake him off. “Yesterday. I’ve had all of twenty-four hours to adjust to an array of what-the-fuck hitting me. If you want to be angry, go be angry with your partner. I’m just trying to do the best I can in an awful situation.”
I don’t know why that worked, but it did. Cody released me and sank down on a stool. He looked demoralized and as if he was one step away from barmy like me.
It seemed a moot question in my rapidly growing collection of crises and unsolved inquiries, but I asked, “Why are you angry with me? Or are you just angry with the world?”
His mouth scrunched up, and he closed his eyes then shook his head. “Do you have any idea what her life has been like for nine years? How all the disappointment and doctors and treatments have made her feel? Do you have any idea what you all did to her in there?”
I stared at him, baffled. From my perspective, none of us had done anything but love and be there for Khloe. Clearly, by Cody’s expression, he thought otherwise.
It occurred to me that Cody knew Khloe better than perhaps anyone. Probably even me. I ignored the jab of pain that realization caused and calmed myself enough to study him.
Cody’s face was washed with an agony that mirrored my own. Yet he couldn’t know she planned to refuse the transplant…or did he? Had she texted him about our fight in the bedroom, or was it that he knew her better than me?
I settled on a stool across from him. “Tell me what I did to her tonight. What is it you think I don’t comprehend about what all this has been for her? I want to understand, Cody.”
After exhaling a ragged breath, he opened his eyes. “The entire thing has made her feel like nothing but a lab rat since she was fourteen. The first five years, she was poked and prodded and went through experimental treatments, one after the other. No one even asked her if they should try this or that; they just did. Now she goes along with whatever miracle Dr. Hern pulls out of his black bag because she doesn’t want to hurt or fail or disappoint her parents. She must fight not only her illness but for every inch of control or freedom she has over what happens to her. She finally gets to a place where she feels her life is her life, and boom, all that rains down on her, decisions made, and you’re right there moving in step with her parents and telling her how it will be and what she will do. Her world is twirling too fast for her. She’s afraid. She needs to think things through and be supported, not be pushed. But everyone is pushing at her. One thing I’ve learned guarding the women of this family is you can’t push at them. They move at their own pace. That’s why she said she wouldn’t have the transplant. Everyone pushed, and Khloe pushed back.”
The way he described it was horrific to me. It also confirmed Khloe had run to him to pour out her heart. It hurt that she’d done that, but I didn’t fault her. Not after having heard that, because Cody was right: I’d failed her when she needed me the most.
“How do we fix where we are?”
“Fuck if I know, man.” He slouched and glanced around the room, lost. “The thought of being Patient One in this is terrifying to her. It would make her a lab rat forever. Understand?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. It would save her life. Give it back.”
“But what kind of life?” he mused grimly and shuddered. “This is going to blow the lid off science. How long do you think it will take before the press digs far enough to find Alan’s endowment and then Khloe’s medical records? The entire world will know it was her, and she will be dehumanized, violated, gossiped about, prayed for, damned, and trapped in that. She won’t ever have what she’s fought for ever again. Her life. Get it?”
I hadn’t thought of that. It was a reasonable fear considering what I’d learned about how her illness made Khloe feel. But it gave me a starting point for doing better in our next round of discussion.
Pursing my lips, I nodded. “Thank you, Cody. You’re a good chap. A brilliant friend. Would you mind cleaning up the food on the floor while I salvage what I can for Khloe’s dinner?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Damon
The Past
WHEN I RETURNED TO the bedroom, Khloe was sitting on our bed, dressed in the silly cheetah-print lounging pajamas that completely covered her body. They were her signal to me on the nights she wasn’t feeling well that there would be no sexy times, becau
se she didn’t ever like to talk about her illness. Not even to tell me she was unwell and wanted only my comfort.
We both knew making love wasn’t in the cards for us anytime soon; we’d been through the ringer, but tonight I sensed she wore them for a different purpose. Was it her cue that she was prepared for us to argue more? Or to tell me that doing so was pointless? Did it mean anything at all?
As I set the tray on the bed, I gave her a fast once-over to gauge her disposition and felt instantly awful. Khloe was so beautiful and had such a commanding presence—much like her father—somehow, that was only what I saw when I looked at her, but oh no, not tonight.
A veil had been pulled back in my psyche, and it hit me between the eyes how physically fragile she’d become since we’d left Pacific Palisades. Her laughing effervescence and captivating joyfulness had worked like a cloak to prevent me from seeing the cruelness of her illness and the changes in her since we’d landed in Wyoming.
Her collarbones showed, her features were a bit gaunt, and her creamy white skin had lost its glow. Like a blind fool, I’d focused on only how lovely she was, the inch of shiny black hair that now covered her head, and how happy she’d been.
I carefully settled across the tray from her, sitting cross-legged as she was doing. “I don’t want to argue anymore.”
She gave me a small, tired smile. “Neither do I.”
I busied myself uncovering our plates as something to focus on. “There’s roasted plum duck, potatoes, and even lemon posset for dessert.”
She stopped the movement of my hands with hers, causing me to look at her. “I love you, Damon. Don’t ever imagine for a second that I don’t or that I take it lightly. Right now, it’s so clear to me how much I love you it’s painful.”
Her breathless whisper made my throat convulse.
“No. I could never think that. You’ve loved me in a way I’ve never been loved. I love you. Everything you are. Everything you aren’t. With all of me.”
She made a quiet laugh. “Flowery talk even when you’re sad. Your emotional dexterity is amazing. It’s right up there with my mother’s.”
