ever etched on my skin. “I love this, by the way.” He gives me a devilish grin. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but I love it. Thank you.”
“What are you thanking me for?”
“For your words . . . and for this.” His fingers trace over each intricate line. “For never forgetting about me, and for loving me enough to want me with you forever.” My mind drifts to the story he told me about his mother, and I realize that maybe—just maybe—I’ve proven to him that he can trust me again.
“Did it hurt?” he asks.
“Like a bitch.” He laughs and kisses his name one more time before propping himself up on the pillows. He tucks me under his arms and pulls the covers up to my chin.
“That’s because you’re a pussy.”
“I am not,” I scoff, ramming my elbow into his side when I push myself up to glare at him. “I’m tough as nails.”
“Sure you are, babe.” He pats my arm like I’m a petulant child then tugs me back down. His eyes drift shut and I nuzzle into his chest with a sigh of contentment, relishing the fact that I’m here—in Levi’s arms—and this isn’t a dream. I’m not sure how long we lie here, but Levi’s steady breathing and the strong beat of his heart are quickly lulling me to sleep. Right when I feel myself dozing off, Levi whispers my name.
“Yeah?” I yawn, stretching my arm across his chest.
“That night I first saw you again, you told me you came back here for me and another reason.” I nod my head; I remember that night all too well. “You said I wasn’t ready to hear the other reason. Was it because of the cancer?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, rubbing my hand down his toned stomach. “I wanted to come home for my chemotherapy. This is where Luke and Benny are”—my fingers lazily trace around each defined muscle—“and this is where you are. I wanted so badly to tell you sooner, but I needed us to be in a better place. Does that make sense?”
“It does.” He pauses for several beats and then takes a deep breath. “How did you find it . . . the cancer?”
“I was taking a shower, washing my body, and there it was. It felt like a rock under my skin, and I freaked out because I remembered my dad telling me that when mom found her cancer, she’d said the same thing.” I squeeze my eyes shut and push out the rest of the story. “I called the doctor and within the hour I was at the hospital having an ultrasound and mammogram. I remember sitting in that cold room all by myself—”
“Mia wasn’t with you?” he asks.
“Nope.” I shake my head. Then I spend the next hour telling him every little detail about my diagnosis, all my options and everything leading up to the surgery.
“Why did you choose the mastectomy over the lumpectomy?”
“I wanted it gone. I was so scared, and all I could think about was getting whatever was growing inside of me out. So I had the surgery, went through six weeks of recovery, and moved home.”
“Are you scared now?” he asks. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for him to ask me that. Hell, it’s not easy for me to answer that, but I’ll try. Because keeping anything at all from him, even my fears, is no longer an option. When it comes to Levi Beckford, I am an open book.
“Terrified.” His arm tightens around my shoulders and his chin drops to the top of my head. “I’m terrified of what I might miss out on.”
“Does it hurt?” he asks softly.
“The cancer?”
“No . . . yes. I don’t know. The chemo, your scar—all of it. Are you in pain?” I love that he’s asking these questions because it shows me that he cares.
“No, no pain. There are certainly other things going on with me, but right now pain isn’t one of them.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“It’s weird,” I start off, trying to put my feelings into words. “There are days when the cancer is all I think about. It consumes me to the point of exhaustion, and I feel like I’m going to go insane from worry. And then there are days when I’m able to forget and my life seems completely normal.”
“When it consumes you—what’s that like?” Levi’s hand is tracing circles on my arm, but when he asks the question, his fingers stop.
“Keep doing that—with your fingers,” I demand, wriggling my arm. He chuckles and starts tracing again. “I just get a jumbled mess of thoughts that I can’t seem to work through, and I’m constantly battling to stay strong and not feel sorry for myself. A lot of times I find myself thinking about things I want to do before I die . . . just in case.”
“Your bucket list.”
“Yes,” I nod. “But more than anything, it scares me to think that at any given time I could be gone from this world—forever—and never be able to come back. I’ll never get to hug Mia again or fight with Luke and Benny or make love to you. Essentially, I would be like a face in the background of a forgotten photo. A blip on the radar. And that scares the hell out of me.” My voice gets scratchier with each word and tears well up in my eyes. “I’ve never said that out loud to someone before. It’s much harder to say than it is to think.” Tears drip from my eyes, landing on Levi’s chest, and he wipes them away tenderly. Then he pulls me up his body so we’re face to face.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Lane. I just need to know what we’re up against.”