"Then what?" Her voice is soft. Sweet. Understanding.
After all the shit I give her, she still sees the good in me. She still wants to dig past the guy I convince everyone else I am.
I have no idea what the hell I've done to deserve her.
My thumb rubs her temple. It's impulse. It must be right, because it's making her lips part with a soft sigh. "I could never be casual with you."
"But before—"
"Was before. I was a stupid kid. Now… I'm still an idiot half the time, but I've got a bit of sense."
"What does that mean?"
I want to be the guy she can lean on. Fuck, I want it so badly I can taste it.
But can I trust myself?
That, I don't know.
My hands go to her shoulders. I don't push her away or pull her closer. I keep her exactly where she is. "I want to fuck you, Chloe. I want to bury myself in you. But not tonight. Not because you're drunk and scared."
"It's not because of that."
"But you are."
"A little."
"I want to erase every ugly thought in your head. I do. But not like this. If you still want this tomorrow, come over after your test. I'll fuck your brains out."
My stomach flip-flops.
My hands shake.
My toes go numb.
I've done a lot of crazy shit in my life, but this is the first time I've been this fucking terrified.
"You… you want to be with me?" she asks.
"It's never been a question of whether or not I wanted to be with you."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
She leans in. Presses her lips to mine. It starts soft. Then it's harder.
The warm affection fades into a hungry heat.
Her tongue slips into my mouth.
Her fingers dig into my skin.
My body roars awake. My heart thuds. My lungs strain. My cock stirs.
"Oh." She pulls back with a heavy sigh. Her cheeks flush. Her tongue slides over her lips. "It's been a long time since I've made anyone hard."
I shake my head. "You have no idea how many times I've fucked myself thinking of you."
"How many times?"
"Too many to count."
Her fingers dig into my neck. "You're a tease. Do you realize that?"
"Yeah."
"It's cruel."
"That's me."
"Dean I… I understand what you're saying. Why you want to wait. But I can't. Everything might be wrong tomorrow."
"Even so."
"No." Her hair falls in front of her eyes as she shakes her head. When she blinks, a tear catches on her lashes. "What if I'm sick again?"
I have no fucking idea how to answer that, so I pull her closer.
Hold her tighter.
"When it first happened, I was in shock. Then I got angry. At the universe. At my parents. At everyone who didn't have to deal with cancer at twenty-two. But, mostly, I was angry with my body. It betrayed me. I know It sounds ridiculous."
"It doesn't."
"Really?"
I nod. I can't imagine how I'd feel if I were in her shoes. There's no way I'd handle it with half the grace.
"My body and I… we aren't friends. Friendly, sometimes. But not friends. I can feel it in everything I do. I'm not as good at aikido, I'm a slower swimmer, I don't notice when I'm hungry. I drink too much tea and get too little sleep. And I… well, up until a few weeks ago I'd given up on trusting my body enough to want someone."
"You didn't want anyone?"
"No. I did. But only in an intellectual way. And that meant I stayed in my head. I kept thinking of the way Alex looked at me like I was broken and unlovable. Of how strange my—" She looks down at her chest. "It's weird. Having fake boobs."
"Nobody's ever—"
"Never."
Fuck, that's an invitation if I've ever heard one.
But I meant what I told her earlier. I don't have the self-control to stop if I start.
Fuck. I barely have the self-control to keep my hands to myself at the moment.
I can't let her know that.
I'm sober and I'm not facing a life changing test tomorrow.
I've been the responsible one before—fuck knows I've dragged Leighton's and Walker's drunk asses home a million times—but it's never felt like this much of a responsibility.
"It means the world to me that you're telling me this, sunshine." I run my fingers through her hair. "But I still can't fuck you."
"You can." She sinks into my lap. "You're still hard."
"Well aware of that."
Her smile is sad, but it still lights up her eyes. "Is there a line?"
"A line?"
"You've kissed me twice now. So that's in."
"Are we negotiating?"
"If that isn't too pathetic."
"You're scared. It's brave, admitting that. Facing it."
Her laugh is happier, but just barely. "I'm not facing it. That's why I'm begging you."
"When's your test?"
"Eleven."
"Someone coming with you?"
"No. It's routine. Not a big deal." Her words are rote, like she's reading off a piece of paper. "I should be fine. Odds are good. Better than good. Ninety-five percent chance. More even."
"You're allowed to be scared about unlikely things."
"Maybe. It feels like… I didn't ask Dad or Gia to come because I knew how that would go. I knew they'd keep reciting the party line. It's going to be fine. You'll be fine. Odds of developing breast cancer after a double mastectomy are almost nothing. And then… I don't know."
"You want to tell them to fuck off."
"Kinda, yeah." She laughs. "But I know they're trying to help."
"They want to help."
She nods.
"Maybe you need to let them know how."
"Maybe." She stares back into my eyes. "You're smarter than you let on."
"Wiser maybe. But not smarter."
"Both."
"I…" I bite my tongue. Hesitation isn't me. But this… fuck, this might be the most I've ever asked of anyone. Or the most I've ever offered of myself. "I want to come with you tomorrow."
Surprise streaks her expression. "You do?"
"Yeah."
"You'll mostly sit in the waiting room."
"I don't care."
"I…"
"You can tell me to fuck off if you want."
"No… I… you have to promise you won't mention the odds."
My lips curl into a smile.
"What?"
"I knew you had a thing for scoundrels."
Her brow knits with confusion.
"That's Han Solo's famous line."
"Oh. Yeah. But his is about how he doesn't want to hear bad odds."
"Still."
"I guess I do have a thing for scoundrels." She runs her fingers through my hair. "Since I'm here begging you to fuck me."
"Sweet talk isn't going to get you anywhere."
Her laugh is hearty. Full. "How about taking off my clothes?"
"That will probably work." I bring my hands to her waist. Pull her a little closer. "If I'm being honest."
"I knew that." She looks down at me. "If I'm being honest."
This time, I laugh. "You think you know me so well."
"Sometimes. Other times… I'm not as sure. But I want to."
"I want you to."
"Where does that leave us?"
"You didn't respond to my offer."
"Oh." She presses her lips together. "The hospital is by my place. In the valley."
"I figured."
"Can, um… can we have sex after?"
"You'll have to drag me away."
She smiles like a kid on Christmas morning. "Yeah?"
"Fuck yeah." Fuck me. The thought of unwrapping Chloe isn't doing shit to get blood back to my brain.
"I… I don't know how to say this, Dean, but it killed me when Alex left. Not because I loved him. I did. But what hurt more was how wrong I was about him. I thought he loved me too. I thought he was the kind of guy who really wanted to be with me through sickness and through health. I can't go through that again."
I nod.
"So, yes, I want you to come tomorrow. But only if you're sure you're going to stick around if the prognosis is bad. Only if you're sure you can handle it."
"I get that."
"So… I mean, you don't have to answer now. You can think about it. Sleep on it. But if you want to come, I need to know. And I get it if you aren't in. If you're not ready to take that on. It's… it's not what I'd expect from you."
Me either.
"Watching my mom die was the worst thing I ever felt. Worse than worrying I might die. Worse than the looks Gia and Dad gave me every three seconds. Worse than forgetting how to want someone."
It's a fair question.
I'm not sure it's one I can answer. Not honestly. Not without really knowing what it means to love someone who might be dying.