“What can I do for you?” he asked. Copper didn’t make empty offers or give canned platitudes. If he asked what she needed, he meant it. And he’d do anything in his power to help.
“I’m managing right now,” she said, absorbing the warmth and comfort of being loved by family. “Just be there for him, okay?” she whispered against his chest, not even sure he’d hear her.
“Always,” he whispered back.
“Thank you.” Knowing Viper would be taken care of no matter the outcome of her illness provided a small measure of comfort. Should the worst happen, his family would gather tight around him and see him through the dark days.
After squeezing Copper, she stepped back. It was Christmas time, and she promised herself she wouldn’t get mired in despair until after the holidays. “So, uh, Shell and Beth excited for Christmas?”
Copper let her have the subject shift. He leaned his hip against the table as he folded his arms across his wide chest. Cassie returned to Viper’s side where her man immediately drew her back against his chest then wrapped his arms around her.
But something crossed Copper’s face. A shadow of some sort, she’d never seen. Usually, the man lit up when he spoke of the two most important females in his life. Soon as she got home, she needed to make plans to check in on Shell.
“They are. You guys gonna make it for Christmas breakfast?” This would be the second year in a row Shell had invited them to join them for the Christmas morning gift opening and breakfast.
“We’ll see. If Cass is feeling up to it, we’ll be there,” Viper said.
“No.” She shook her head and resisted the childish urge to stomp her foot. Cancer had already taken so much from her. Her energy, her sex drive, Viper’s position with the club. And now it was starting in on her hair. No way in hell would it take Christmas morning with her family away from her. “We’ll be there, no matter what.”
“Babe,” Viper said, casting her a stern look. “You’ve got treatment on the twenty-third. You might not be feeling up to much on Christmas.”
Cassie straightened her shoulders and looked Copper in the eye. “We’ll be there,” she said with force. Nothing was stopping her from watching that sweet kiddo open her gifts. Not nausea, not intense fatigue, not…fucking cancer.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JIGSAW
Jig eased back the covers and hauled his tired body up to sit on the side of the bed. Third night in a row, he’d stared at the ceiling for hours without so much as a hope of sleeping. By now, his eyes held a constant grit and his limbs hung heavy with fatigue. On top of it all, his brain refused to get in gear and work fast enough to make him effective throughout the day. He’d slogged through his business at the clubhouse, making mistake after mistake until he’d finally tossed in the towel, disgusted with his lack of concentration.
A glance over his shoulder confirmed Izzy snoozed away on her left side, facing him.
As she’d required for the past month or two, a pillow propped her swollen stomach so it lay in line with the rest of her body. Another between her knees helped her find some small measure of comfort, and a third behind her back, prevented her from rolling flat.
Fuck, he loved his woman. Loved that he was the only one to see her this way. Sleeping, vulnerable, guard down and heart open. To the rest of the world, she was a sassy tattoo artist, MMA fighter, and all-around kick-ass ball-buster. But to him, she was his Izzy. And his Izzy had a soft side she only revealed to him.
With a low grunt, he pushed up off the bed and shuffled down the dark hallway toward the kitchen.
Two a.m.
Shit.
He ran a hand down his face, pausing to finger the puzzle-piece shaped scar that served as a daily reminder of the fragility of life.
Bypassing the kitchen in favor of the den, Jig made his way toward their small liquor cabinet. A few swallows of Izzy’s favorite Bourbon ought to dull his mind enough to squeeze a couple hours of shut-eye in before he had to get up and head back to the clubhouse.
After filling the glass well past the level of socially acceptable, Jig sat on the couch that used to be Izzy’s but had become theirs over the past few months, as had everything in the house. The scenic view out their front windows called to him, tranquil and calming; in complete contrast to his internal turmoil.
He was about to become a father. Again. In fact, he should have been a father already. Izzy’s due date had come and gone a few days ago, leaving her in a…delicate mood. His poor woman was losing her mind with the discomfort of being nine-plus months pregnant.