by Webster, K
Daniel
Two weeks later…
We knew this was coming. Knowing and accepting are two different things, though. I’m numb as the doctor discusses the fact that Lauren must now go on a transplant waiting list. All the risk factors involved with having a kidney transplant and everything leading up to it. Whereas I’m breaking inside, Lauren remains rigid and strong. My wife has researched all there is to know about her disease. She’s handling it like a champ.
And though I’m the doctor and know a transplant is her best chance at a more normal life, the husband in me freaks the fuck out over the risks.
I can’t lose her.
Not now, not ever.
“…and of course friends and family can get tested.”
“W-What?” I bark out, needing him to repeat what he’s said.
“Potential donors.”
“Test me now,” I demand.
Lauren snorts and swats at my knee. “Stop.”
“You may get tested, Dr. Venable, but don’t get your hopes up. A lot of things, as you know, will need to be a perfect match. And giving up an organ is a big deal.”
I stand abruptly and glare at him as though he’s lost his mind. “And losing one is too.”
“Oh my God. Sit down,” Lauren grumbles. “Do not fight with my doctor or I’ll send you into the hall.”
I don’t sit down. All I can do is pace the floor in front of the desk, anxiety clawing at my insides.
“And if no one is a match?” Lauren asks, ever the realist.
I don’t wait for that answer and stalk out of the office.
In my dark kitchen, I drink shot after shot, hating the injustice of the world.
Why her?
Why bright, beautiful, fierce Lauren?
Why not my asshole neighbor or that guy who used to give me shit in college or some random criminal or fuck-up?
Why young, smart, wonderful Lauren?
Another shot. Another curse word muttered under my breath.
It’s been nearly a week since the doctor started the process to put her on a transplant list. She’s handling shit a lot better than I am. I’m pissed and upset that her body is literally dying and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I’m. A. Fucking. Doctor.
And yet, with Lauren, I’m fucking useless.
Hot tears race down my cheeks. It’s the same every night. She goes to bed and I come into the dark kitchen to curse God and the world.
Nothing changes.
My wife still has a worthless goddamn kidney that’s filled with tiny bombs of pain and infection that detonate whenever they fucking please. She lives in constant pain. And to make matters worse, she is on dialysis because her kidneys can’t filter out all the waste like they should. She needs a break.
I shakily pour another shot of whiskey. It doesn’t matter. I can drink all I want because my organs are fucking useless to her. One simple blood test proved I’m not a match. I’d been furious at the hospital when I’d received that news. Ended up having to leave early. I’ve been pissed ever since.
I’m desperate to beg every goddamn person in this town to get tested, but Lauren has been adamant about me staying out of it. Apparently I’m “fucking losing it.” Another hot tear leaks out and before I can swipe it away, skinny arms wrap around my middle, hugging me from behind.
“Are you done?” she asks, her cheek pressed against my back.
“Nope,” I grumble.
“Yeah, you are.”
I don’t argue.
“Daniel, you’re done,” she says, this time more firmly. “You had a week to do…this. Your week is over.”
The anger that has been burning through me simmers. She’s right. I’ve been fucking sulking but to what end? Nothing is solved.
“When are you going to let your dad and brother know?” I ask, my voice husky with emotion.
“Soon. I just wanted to have a handle on my emotions before I told them.”
“Maybe one of them will be a match and—”
“Honey, stop,” she whispers. “I don’t want that pressure on them. On anyone.”
“I feel like you’re giving up,” I accuse, bitterness in my tone.
“No, I’m no longer giving this disease power over my every thought and action. I’m on the transplant list and if anyone wants to get tested to see if they’re a match, then so be it, but I won’t pressure anyone. It’s a big deal.”
I twist around and cradle her cheeks in my palms. “You’re a big deal, angel.” My lips find hers in the dark and I kiss her like she might disappear tomorrow.
“Do you love me?” she asks, knowing full well she owns my heart and soul.
“You know I do.”
“Then promise on us.”
“Lauren…”
“No, do it.”
I grit my teeth. “Promise what?”
“That you’ll stop obsessing over this. That you’ll stop being angry. That you’ll move forward and help me live life to the fullest. Daniel, there are things I still want out of life. And having to worry over you as you drink yourself sick every night and rage with anger is taking up too much of our time—time we could spend on something enjoyable.” She runs her palms up my chest. “Let’s have a cookout. Invite everyone over. Get inflatables for the kids to play in. I want to just be surrounded by family and have fun. Can we do that?”
“We can do whatever makes you happy,” I concede.
“Now we’re talking,” she says in a teasing voice. “Before we plan a killer barbeque, I was hoping you’d take me upstairs and make love to me.”
My hands find her hips, gripping her gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Good enough for my normally reserved husband to fuck me a little wild while the whiskey’s still running hot through his veins.”
“Reserved, huh?” I growl, nipping at her lip.
“Oh yeah,” she taunts. “A real snooze-fest in the bedroom.”
I grab her ass, picking her up, loving the carefree squeal she lets loose. “I better hurry and show you my animal side before I go back to hibernating bear.”
She giggles as I carry her through the house. Her fingers run through my hair, caressing me. I fucking love her so much it hurts sometimes. When we make it to our bedroom, I waste no time stripping her down and laying her down on the bed. As I tear away my own clothes, I keep my gaze fixated on her perfect form. Perfect to me.
In actuality she’s pale and bony. Her stomach is always swollen. Bruises constantly mar her flesh from blood tests. In her forearm, not long after she started dialysis, she was given an arteriovenous fistula—essentially permanent vascular access.
She’s sick.
No denying that.
But she’s also funny and fierce and gorgeous. Even at her worst, she’s the best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“The bear is hungry,” she teases, her eyes alight with mischief.
She’s also tired and weak.
Barely hanging on by a thread.
As much as I want to bury my face between her thighs and drag our lovemaking on for hours, I know better. Tonight is not that night.
“Want a back rub?” I offer as I stroke my dick, staring at her.
“Oh, no, buddy. You’re not playing the good doctor now. Not after that meltdown in the kitchen. Suit up and put that dick inside me.”
I smirk as I grab a condom. Tearing the foil with my teeth, I then pull out the rubber and roll it on. She pushes harder to be intimate and I think it’s because she’s trying to prove to herself that she can maintain a normal sex life. Sometimes, I don’t give a rat’s ass what she’s trying to prove and hold her because I’m not about to hurt her if I think she’s flared up in pain.
“I’m fine,” she says, reading my mind. “I just need you.”
I prowl onto the bed and half lie on top of her. Our lips meet for a sweet kiss. The moment her tongue seeks out mine, the kiss turns feral and hungry. Her fingernails dig into me as she ur
ges me closer. I settle between her legs, rubbing my cock along her clit. She shudders with pleasure. My thumb and finger tweak her nipple, bringing the good kind of pain to the surface.
“Mmm,” she moans.
I give her nipple a hard tug and nip at her bottom lip. “Tell me when you’re about to come, angel,” I growl. “And then I’m going to slide inside you so I can feel how good it is to have you gripping my cock. I fucking love when you go crazy for my dick.”
She laughs. “I almost think I love your dirty mouth more.”
Lifting up, I put space between us so we can stare at the way my thick dick pushes between her pussy lips, rubbing against her nub.
“Look how fucking sexy we are,” I tell her. “You and me. Hot as hell.”
My words have another moan escaping her. Then, she warns me she’s about to come. I grip my cock and slide it between her pussy lips, entering into her tight body. Slowly. It’s best when I give her time to adjust to my size. Plus, if she’s hurting, the last thing I want to do is start fucking shit up worse.
“Harder,” she breathes.
It’s her lying voice, though.
In and out, I stroke slowly, letting her get used to me. “Want me to stop?”
“Fuck no,” she hisses, her wild eyes pinning me. “Just like this is perfect.”
I smirk at her. “Touch your clit, angel. I want to watch.”
Her hand slides between us as she works herself close to the edge. She’s wet and her juices coat my cock, making it easier to drive into her. When I can tell she’s getting tired and weak, I grip her hand in mine and force her body to yield to the orgasm it desperately wants. She screams out my name, her cunt clenching around me, and I lose it. I groan, grinding my release into her until I’m spent and sated. Sliding out of her body, I fall next to her and bury my nose in her hair.
“You okay?”
“Always with you.”
“I’m going to do better tomorrow,” I vow. “I promise. No more whiskey. You’re right. You need me and that shit solves nothing.”
“Oh my God,” she exclaims.
I sit up, frowning. “What?”
“We need to call someone.”
“Who?”
“The press.”
I arch a brow. Fucking smartass.
Her lips curl into a mischievous grin. “You said I was right.”
“That’s all you heard from that entire monologue?”
“Yep. Say it again.”
“You’re right.” I brush a blond strand of hair away from her face. “Your turn.”
“But you’re never right so…” She laughs.
“Say what I want to hear.”
Her brown eyes gleam with wickedness. “You have the best cock in all the land.”
“Say the other thing,” I murmur, pressing my lips to hers.
“I love you, husband.”
“That’s the one. I love you too, wife.”
Lauren
“Thank you,” I tell Enzo, hugging his neck. “It means a lot for you to bring him.”
He pats my back. “I’m doing what I can for you guys. Don’t worry. These things have a way of working themselves out.”
“Score!” Taylor yells.
Daniel shakes his head as he chases after the ping-pong ball. “I’m too old to keep chasing these balls.”
Taylor snorts. “He said balls.”
I giggle. “He totally did.”
Daniel snags the ball up and gives us both one of his perfected “dad stares.” It only makes Taylor and me laugh more. While Daniel gets ready to serve, I sit down on the couch in our game room and Enzo plops down beside me. Since he’s a social worker, he got a sanctioned visit for us with Taylor. Daniel and I talked about fostering, but it doesn’t feel like enough. But before we drag this kid into yet another home, we wanted to see how he feels about it. It doesn’t matter what we want if he’s not into the idea.
They play until Taylor wins the match and it’s nearing time for dinner. Daniel sits in an armchair and Taylor chooses to sit on my other side. I give him a side hug.
“Did you like hanging out with us?” I ask.
He looks up at me, a big grin on his face. “Better than listening to Vera yell at the people reporting the news.”
“How would you feel about living here all the time?” Enzo asks, his tone gentle and curious.
Taylor frowns, making my heart plummet. “I don’t want to.”
Tears well in my eyes, but I force a smile. “It’s okay.”
“I just…” Taylor looks down at his hands. “I just wouldn’t want to leave. I think it will hurt too much.”
Daniel slides out of his chair and sits on his knees in front of Taylor. “What if we kept you forever?”
Taylor jerks his head my way. “Forever?” Then he frowns again. “I’m sick, though. People don’t want a sick kid.”
A tear races down my cheek. “Do you think a healthy kid wants a sick mom?”
He scowls. “Any kid would be lucky to have you as a mom.”
“But not you?” I challenge, another tear leaking out.
His bottom lip wobbles. “Especially me, but…” He starts to cry. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
I hug him to me. “We want you to be ours, Taylor. We’ll make it happen as long as you want this.”
“I do,” he sobs. “So much.”
When we pull apart, Daniel takes his hand and then takes mine. “Being sick doesn’t make you less of a person or any less deserving of a family.”
“What happens if I get worse?” Taylor asks, frowning.
“Then you have us to get you through it,” Daniel says. And then he winks. “I may be Dr. Dum-Dum, but I know a thing or two about helping sick patients.”
“So what do you say?” I urge, smiling at him. “Want to be sick together and make this old man wait on us hand and foot?”
He giggles. “Would I be Taylor Dum-Dum?”
“Totally. You don’t think I’d be the only one taking that silly last name, do you?” I tease, tickling him.
“Hey now,” Daniel says. “Dum-Dum has a nice ring to it.”
“Yes,” Taylor agrees. “I want to live with you guys. Even if I have to change my last name to Noodle Butt.”
“You said butt.” I snort.
Enzo chuckles. “You definitely fit in with these two clowns, Tay.”
Taylor simply beams.
And all the broken parts in my body don’t matter because my heart just got fuller.
“Do you think they’re coming?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.
Daniel lifts his brows. “You really think they wouldn’t?”
I force out a laugh. Truth is, I don’t know. Dad and Landon were so stoic when I told them about my being added to the transplant list. Quiet and almost emotionless. To their defense, I dropped it like a bomb and then had to get to class. It’s been a week since I told them and a lot has happened. My life has been a whirlwind of readying our house for Taylor.
He’ll be ours soon.
Officially.
We’ve filed all the paperwork, went through the appropriate channels, and done the home study. It helps knowing a social worker, a few really good attorneys, and a judge. Daniel is well-connected in this community and when he needs a favor, they all come through to make it happen. Once the paperwork is complete, we’ll pick up Taylor and bring him here for good.
I’m thrilled.
And nervous.
I don’t know anything about being a mom. All I can do is try to be half the mom my own mother was and I feel like I’ll do okay. Plus, no one gets Taylor like I do. We connect on a level no one else does. He’s my dialysis buddy.
“They better hurry up,” I grumble. “Chicken is almost done.”
Daniel hugs me to him. “They’re coming.”
I’m just pulling away when I hear my dad’s voice. “Lauren!”
I jolt and turn just in time to see Dad barreling for me. He nearly t
ackles me with a hug. His grip is tight as he lifts me off the ground.
“Dad!” I cry out. “What’s gotten into you?”
“He won,” Landon says, entering in behind him.
“Won what?” I ask.
Dad finally releases me and yanks a folded piece of paper out. His eyes are wet with tears as he unfolds it. It’s not the same paperwork Daniel received, as his was a simple blood test that showed we were incompatible. This paperwork is a genetic tissue typing blood test result issued from my transplant coordinator.
“I was a fifty percent match,” Landon boasts, “but Dad still won.”
I blink in confusion.
“The best match for the recipient is six out of six antigens matching,” Dad says with a wide, teary smile.
“A zero mismatch,” Daniel utters from nearby.
“All six markers match,” Dad says, kissing my forehead. “You’re getting a kidney, baby girl.”
I’m frozen.
Stunned.
Simultaneously upset and overjoyed.
“Daddy…” I choke out a sob.
“Don’t say a word, sweetheart,” Dad says, pulling me back to his chest. “The transplant coordinator said we’re not out of the clear, but we’re off to one helluva start.”
I cry. I cry and cry and cry. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop crying.
My dad is going to give me a kidney.
My dad is my hero.
I’m eventually pulled away so my brother can hug me.
“I was close,” he says, his voice husky. “You know I’d give you my left nut if I needed to.” Sure, he jokes, but he’s crying too.
I look over Landon’s shoulder to see Daniel hugging Dad. Not a son-in-law simply hugging his father-in-law. No, he hugs him like he’s his hero too.
Hope teases me and I shouldn’t take the bait.
Hope is dangerous.
But without hope, what am I even living for?
Hope and I are about to become best friends because I have too many people holding onto hope too. Maybe if we all cling desperately enough, hope will turn into reality.
I need a win.
I will win.
Momma didn’t raise a quitter.
Daniel
Two months later…
