With an exhausted exhale, she dropped the phone onto the coffee table. Then she scooped Bubbles up and hugged her close as her brothers' words pinged around in her head. She appreciated that they missed her and were concerned . . . but she wasn't going to tell them or anyone what was going on until she was already pregnant. This was for her. This whole situation was hers and hers alone.
Another text dinged in. She picked up the phone to look. From Logan: You okay today, tigress? No bruises or anything, I hope? Was wondering. Concerned.
He was sweet. She kept her response light. Not much. Come over tomorrow night and see for yourself. Last night of this ovulation.
Yes ma'am, he wrote back. Busy at work today. Just wanted to check in. Text you tonight.
Have a good day, she wrote, adding a smiley emoji.
You too.
Logan's ruggedly handsome face appeared in her head. She sighed. Well . . . the situation was almost hers alone. There was also this wonderful man who was doing her the favor of a lifetime, whom she'd just realized she was in love with, and couldn't ever tell him that or he'd probably shut her out of his life. That . . . complicated things a bit.
* * *
Logan held his mother's arm as they walked slowly into the hospital. She was having one of her bad days, drained and no appetite. He'd tried to get her to eat some lunch, but she'd shooed him away. He'd managed to beg and bully her into drinking a cup of chicken broth before they'd left her house. Now, they sat side by side in the doctor's office, waiting for him and her latest results. Logan had a bad feeling deep in his gut.
He was on edge and he knew it. His leg bounced as they sat.
"Stop with the leg," Annmarie chided. "You're making me jittery."
"Sorry." With effort, he stilled his movement. "I'm nervous. Can't lie."
"Don't be," she said. Her face looked pale and drawn. "Whatever it is, it is. Worrying won't change that."
She was right and he hated it. He tried to think of good things . . . skiing with Tess, or being in bed with her. That only put him a bit more over the edge. Her ovulation cycle past, they were in the No Sex Zone now. It'd been two weeks since he'd been inside her, and every muscle in his body was tense with craving. They still spent time together, continuing the ruse for his mom. But being close to her only amplified his longing and need . . . He wanted her all the time. When he'd told her that on Valentine's Day, he hadn't been kidding. And he'd surprised himself with the fervor of his words . . . his feelings.
The doctor came in, greeting them as he closed the door behind him, file folders in his hands. Logan took one look at his face and his heart plummeted to his stomach.
The words came in something of a blur as he listened. The latest scans showed . . . efforts were no longer effective . . . two new tumors in her lymph nodes . . . could go at them aggressively . . . Logan felt dazed. His blood rushed through his body, roaring in his ears and pulsing behind his eyes. His stomach twisted nauseously.
"That's it then," Annmarie said quietly. "No more. No more treatment."
"Mom," Logan choked out.
She shook her head and held up a hand. "My body. My life. My call." Her eyes were clear as she looked at her son, then the doctor. "I'm going to die anyway. Time to stop poisoning myself and prolonging it. I go out on my terms."
Logan swallowed back a rush of bile. His mind raced as he looked frantically from one to the other, but he knew. He knew nothing he said would sway her or change her mind; he'd gotten his stubborn streak from her, after all.
He knew this was the real beginning of the end. The doctor looked a little sad but accepting, as if he'd known this was coming. As they talked, discussing it all, Logan felt sick. Desperate, enraged, and lost. But he held it together. For her. Anything for her. He gazed at her, fists clenched in his lap. She needed his strength and support, now more than ever. He could fall apart at home, in private.
* * *
Tess startled when her doorbell rang at seven in the evening. Sitting in the small room designated as an office, she'd been catching up on work emails at the cherrywood desk. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore her most comfortable black sweater and multicolored leggings. She wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe Logan had dropped by? She hurried to answer the door and opened it wide.
Logan stood there, looking . . . like something was very, very wrong.
"Hey," she said softly. All her inner sirens wailed at the look on his face. "What happened? Something happened, I can see it."
"Can I come in?" His voice was a low, tight rasp.
She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, closing the door behind him. He stood there silently.
"Is your mother all right?" Tess asked, fearing the answer.
"No," he said. He shook his head, lifted his eyes to meet hers . . . The pain there took Tess's breath away. "I . . . I just . . ."
"Shhhh." She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. His arms lifted to return the embrace, his hold tight, clinging to her.
"I need you tonight," he whispered in her ear. "I just needed to see you."
"I'm here," she whispered. She pulled back to look into his eyes and touched his face. "I'm here, honey."
His eyes filled with tears and it was a kick to her stomach. "I can't talk."
"You don't have to." She peeled him out of his coat, got him to kick off his boots, and took him by the hand. She led him up to her bedroom and nudged him to sit down on her bed. He watched without a word as she flicked the switch to start the gas fireplace, then turned off the lights. "Come here, you."
She lay down on the bed, pulling him down with her, then curled herself around his large, solid body. Dropping a kiss on his cheek, she burrowed into him as his arms banded around her. Her head on his chest, she heard the thick pounding of his heart, felt the way his fingers held tight, and her heart ached for him. She caressed his arm, his beard, his chest as they lay there for a long time, holding each other in the near dark.
"Thanks for this," he finally whispered after an hour.
"You don't have to thank me," she said. "Feel any better yet?"
"A little, actually." His hand ran up and down her back. "You soothe me."
"Good, I'm glad. Can you tell me what happened?"
He gave her the short version, his voice low and ragged. Her eyes squeezed shut at the horrible news. His fingers sifted through her hair as he talked, but she now understood the coiled tension in his muscles. When he finished, she whispered kindness and leaned up to press her lips to his.
They kissed languidly, sweetly, a joining of mouths with affection, not lust or duty. But soon the kisses deepened, tongues swirling and hands roaming, sparking heat that burned with a hint of urgency.
"I need you," he whispered, husky and a bit desperate.
"I'm right here," she whispered back with warm assurance.
* * *
They made slow, tender love by the flickering light of the fire. She held him close as their bodies rocked together, as he lost himself in the sweet escape of her body. He kissed her, stroked her, looked deep into her eyes as he moved inside her. And she met his searching gaze, his languorous thrusts, his every need at every point. She was a goddess, a savior, a lifeline. When she came, she held him so close it was if they were one. His orgasm rolled through him and he sailed over the precipice in relief, holding her tight as he found release, saying her name over and over like a prayer.
Covered in a light sheen of sweat, they stared into each other's eyes and kissed, a million sweet and tiny sips as their bodies calmed.
"You need to raise your hips," he murmured.
"Not tonight," she said. "I need to hold you and not let go."
His mind reeled. In his angry grief, he'd come to her. After settling his mother in at her house, he'd driven straight to Tess's house without conscious thought. And Tess had welcomed him without a moment's pause, giving him the support, comfort, and affection he needed so desperately. Her. He needed her desperately. She was all he wanted.
He hovered over her, pushed back her hair from her face, and stared into her beautiful blue eyes. Emotions rolled through him, waves of warmth and connection. He pressed his lips to hers. "You're amazing."
She only smiled and kissed him back.
He rolled, pulling her with him until they settled side by side, still locked in an embrace. "I'm wiped out," he murmured. "What a day . . ."