Garrett (Cold Fury Hockey 2)

"Later," I say, and then, with a sigh, turn around and head back to my bedroom.

I find Garrett in there, going through my drawers. Standing in the doorway, I watch for a moment as he rifles through them, finally pulling out a pair of my pajamas. Without even looking at me, he says, "Let's get you into your pajamas so you can go to bed."

"How about we talk first," I tell him.

He turns and walks over to me, casually tossing the nightwear on my bed. Reaching down to the hem of my shirt, he starts to lift it over my head. "Let's get you in bed first, then we'll talk."

My shirt lifts free of my head and before I can even move or argue with him, his hands are efficiently removing my bra. His gaze touches on my breasts, but there's no heat or desire. Only a calm surety in his eyes as he takes the white cami top and pulls it over my head. I participate only to the extent that I thread my arms through, and then he's pulling it down and smoothing the edges out.

"I can do the rest," I tell him testily, because the way he's trying to help is sort of freaking me out a little bit. I'm totally set on the fact that our conversation is going to end with him walking out my door and me never seeing him again.

Garrett steps away and walks over to my window, looking out with his hands tucked into his pockets. I make quick work of getting the rest of my clothes off and slipping the matching pajama bottoms on. I throw my clothes in the hamper and then crawl into bed.

The slight squeak of the box springs has Garrett turning his attention back to me. His green eyes stare at me impassively for a moment, then he pulls a small chair that sits in the corner of my room around to my side of the bed and sits in it so he can face me. I roll on my side and pull the covers up tight up to my chin, my eyes taking in how gorgeous and alive he looks, and I think I must look terrible in comparison.

Resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, Garrett says, "I get why you didn't tell me. I mean...why bother telling the guy that historically wouldn't be around anyway, right?"

"I'm sorry," I say softly, hoping he sees in my eyes how bad I feel about that. He gives me a slight nod, telling me that it's all water under the bridge.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says, his voice laced with a fair warning not to argue.

"Really...I'll be fine," I assure him. "There's no need for you to stay here with me, when I won't be doing much other than sleeping and barfing. I'm sure you have things to do."

"No...you don't get it," he growls. "I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere. And I'm not just talking about right this minute."

I raise up in the bed, tucking an elbow on the mattress to support me. Is Garrett saying what I think he's saying?

"Wait a minute...you still want to see me?" I ask, dumbfounded.

Garrett stares at me intently. "Olivia...I think we tear it up nicely between the sheets, and yeah...I think this started out as just a quick fling. But for some fucking reason, I can't seem to stay away from you, and apparently it doesn't matter if you're riding my cock or throwing up in a toilet...I just want to be around you and get to know you better. So, yeah...I'd like to keep seeing you."

"I don't want this to be an obligation--"

"Just shut the fuck up, Olivia," he says in exasperation as he stands up from the chair and walks to the edge of the bed. "I don't do obligation. I live for what I want, and right now...I want you. So don't ever let me hear you say that. I have enough people doubting my abilities, I don't need it from you. Now move your ass over and let me lie down next to you."

For one brief and glorious moment, I forget about my cancer and the nausea. I don't think about chemotherapy or bone-marrow results. I look at this gorgeous man, who purportedly doesn't do relationships, telling me that he wants one now.

With me.

Sick me.

I let the warmth of his words spread through me. I let them coat me from the inside to the outside in comfort and happiness that Garrett Samuelson is saying he wants me...despite the sickness and uncertainty of my future.

I slide over on the mattress while Garrett kicks off his shoes. He pulls the covers back and slides in next to me, opening his arms so I can move over closer to him. Snuggling in tight and laying my head on his shoulder, I say, "Sutton's really sorry. And I don't think she's doubting your abilities anymore."

"Yeah, well, she's going to have to do a hell of a lot more groveling to make it up to me," he grumbles, and I can't help but giggle.

"You know they didn't tell you because I asked them not to," I point out.

"I know," he says in resignation. "Still pissed at Sutton, though."

"You two kids will figure it out," I say as I pat him on the chest.

I'm feeling immeasurably comfortable, tucked up against Garrett's body and warm in my cocoon. So far, the antinausea drugs are working, and other than being bone tired, I'm thinking this may not be such a bad day after all.

"So, tell me everything you know so far," Garrett asks with no hesitation in his voice, and suddenly the reality of my world hits home once again.

"Hmmm...let's see. So, my doctor--Dr. Yoffman--says that this is a very indolent or slow-growing cancer. That it's rarely curable but very treatable. That we should be able to put it into remission, but that it will probably come back at some point."

"Have you been staged yet?"

"No, they're waiting on the results of the bone-marrow biopsy, but Dr. Yoffman said he's treating it like stage four because they saw a nodule on my lung."

"What does that mean?" he asks with a tinge of unease.

"No clue," I say softly, and suddenly it's clear how very little I actually know about my disease. "I just didn't think to ask those questions," I admit lamely.

Garrett rolls to his side so he's facing me on the bed, then pulls me back in closer. He does this...I realize...so he can look me directly in the eye. "Listen to me...you have a lot on your plate right now. Your head must be absolutely swimming with all of this shit that's being thrown at you. So, don't worry if you forget to ask something. You can always call your doctor as questions arise."

"I know," I say quietly. "I guess I sort of just chose to focus on the fact that the doctor said it's treatable. I don't feel very informed."

"We'll figure it out. Maybe we should write down questions and then you give him a call."

For the first time since I was diagnosed, I actually feel like I might be able to get a handle on this. So far, I've felt stuck in the middle of a huge tornado of information, catching only about half of what's flying by me. But Garrett's right...the doctor is only a phone call away and I don't have to just sit back and worry over the what-ifs.

"Olivia?" Garrett says cautiously, his green eyes seeking some great truth from me.

"Yeah."

"Are you scared?"

"A little bit," I whisper. "But I'm also optimistic."

"Me too," he murmurs as his hand comes up to cup the back of my head and tuck it into the crook of his neck.

He doesn't say anything else, and I have to wonder if he's scared, optimistic, or both.

Chapter 13

Garrett

"Garrett...man, wait up," I hear from behind me as I walk toward my car in the player's parking lot and I hustle up my pace to leave that voice far behind. I hear the pounding of feet and then an arm is on my shoulder, halting my progress.

Blowing out a hiss of frustration, I turn and face Alex for the first time since I stormed out of his house the day before yesterday. At practice today, I kept my distance, even though I could feel his gaze on me. As soon as practice was done, I got dressed as quickly as I could and got the fuck out of there before he could approach me.

"What do you want?" I ask in a tired voice.

I'm tired because I slept for shit last night. I stayed at Olivia's, and while she got sick again late in the afternoon, it was nothing compared to what it was like the day before. She finally was able to drift off into an exhausted sleep, but I tossed and turned most of the night, worrying about her future.

/> "I want to apologize," he says. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Olivia."

"Apology accepted," I say, and turn away from him.

His hand comes back to my shoulder. "Clearly you don't, or else you'd stay here and talk for a minute."

Turning around, I rake my fingers through my hair. "Look, man...I get it. And I'm not even mad you didn't tell me at first. That was Olivia's wish. Why I'm pissed is because you both didn't think highly enough of me to be good enough for her or to trust I'd do the right thing. You knew I liked her...I mean, really liked her. You even said I had it bad for her that day in the locker room, yet you still didn't think enough of me to tell me. My friendship should have outweighed Olivia's request at that point."

"You're right," Alex says hastily. "I know that now. Hindsight's always clearer and all that shit. I handled it badly, and I'm asking you to really forgive me so we can move past this."

I dart my eyes around the parking lot, seeing some of the other players getting in their cars. I have a ton of shit to do today, most of it involving Olivia, and I don't feel like wasting my time here thinking about how badly Alex and Sutton let me down.

"Garrett," Alex says seriously, and his hand comes up to my shoulder. "You have some serious shit going on right now in your life. Your girlfriend has cancer and it's going to be a tough road. Let your friends back in. Forgive me and Sutton for being stupid and let us back in, so we can help support you too. You're going to need it as much as Olivia."

Overwhelming emotion hits me as I realize just how terrifying and isolating this has all been. I've been focusing on staying strong for Olivia, and not even giving much credence to my own feelings. I keep pushing them back, realizing that I'll probably pay the price later when I have time to deal with them.