Don't Hold Back (Love Hurts 4)

Hanging up, I Google the name and click on the top result. My heart pounds. I can’t believe what I’m reading. No way. But there it is, in big, bold writing up the top of the website: The Freedman Clinic, Switzerland, world leader in assisted suicide.

There is no way she had this planned from the beginning. This can’t be right. I want to call them back and demand answers, but I know they won’t tell me anything that I don’t already know. All that crap about going on the trip of a lifetime? And about not wanting her family around to remind her that she’s dying? Bullshit. She wanted a stranger because she thought they wouldn’t try to talk her out of it.

“Mr Wilson?”

I look up and see her doctor standing in front of me.

“She’s conscious and the pain is under control. We want to keep her in, but she is insisting she is okay to go. Perhaps you can talk to her?” he asks.

I snort. Good luck with her listening to anything I say.

“I’ll do my best,” I mumble. I follow him to a single room with crisp white walls and minimal furnishings opposite the doctor’s station. I walk inside, closing the door behind me.

Erin is already up and sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes darken when she sees me.

“I’m not staying,” she says. Her voice is clipped. She’s still angry at me, which is fine, because I’m angry at her. “I’m fine. It was just a bad migraine.”

“They want to do some tests—”

“Which is pointless,” she cuts in. “If I’m getting worse, what can they do about it? Nothing.”

“So you’ll take matters into your own hands then?” I mutter. It’s a low punch and I immediately regret opening my stupid mouth.

Her wide blue eyes glare at me, confused.

“What are you talking about …” Her voice trails off when I hold up her phone, still open to that email. She stares at it, her face going pale. “You had no right to go through my stuff,” she cries angrily. She lunges off the bed and snatches the phone from me, clutching it to her chest.

“You’ve been pissed at me for lying to you, when you’ve been just as bad,” I growl. “Were you going to tell me I’m only here so you can kill yourself, or was that going to be a surprise?”

“It’s not like that,” she whispers. “I haven’t even decided if this is something I want to do. I just wanted to give myself the option. And this doesn’t come close to matching what you did to me. You took money from my family, Cade. How do you think that makes me feel?”

I press my lips together, holding back so many things I want to say. Her eyes darken, anger sparking in them as she misinterprets my silence for something else.

“Don’t judge me when you have no idea what I’m going through,” she says, blinking back tears. “I might wake up tomorrow and not be able to talk, or communicate at all. How would you cope if you’d found me like that? You have no idea what it’s like to have that hanging over your head.”

I sit down, my eyes level with hers. I grab hold of her hand. “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re going through, but I also don’t think you’re ready to give up.”

“Aren’t I? Cade, I’m tired,” she whispers. Tears pool in her eyes as she slumps down in the chair beside her, defeated. “I’m sick of fighting this fucking disease and getting nowhere. I’m sick of being reminded every fucking day of what I’m losing. There is no winning. I can’t beat this, so why try?”

“Because I’m not ready to lose you.” My heart pounds as I stare at her.

She doesn’t speak. Instead she looks at me with her wide blue eyes and tear-stained face.

“I’ve been so afraid to let myself get close to you because I can’t handle losing you, but I can’t deny what I’m feeling any longer. I’m falling in love with you.”

“Cade—”

“I know.” I cut her off because I don’t want to hear her say it. “I’m selfish, a coward, and I’m a liar. I’m all the things you came here to avoid.”

“You’re all the things I want.”

She tugs at my hand. I kneel next to her and wrap my arms arou

nd her, burying myself in her embrace. I wish I could stay here forever and keep her safe and with me. What happened tonight scared the hell out of me because I’m not ready to lose her. She might be ready to die, but I’m not ready to let that happen without fighting for us.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she whispers in my ear. “But I didn’t because I had no idea what I wanted.”

“And I’m sorry I lied to you.” My voice is hoarse and strained, because I’m struggling to hold it together. “The last thing I ever want you to feel is that this isn’t real. You are the most real thing in my life, Erin. I’d die with you if it meant we could have longer together.”