Change of Heart (Fostering Love 2)

Finally I just lay down on my back next to him, even though it wasn’t exactly comfortable, and rested my hands on my stomach. That should work. Super nonchalant.

“Why did you have the surgery?” Bram asked quietly once I was settled.

“I have—had these things called fibroids. They’re painful, and I’ve had them for years, and it finally got to the point that I just couldn’t take it anymore,” I answered as simply as I could. I didn’t explain the long periods that left me feeling drained and depressed or the few times when it had hurt to have sex. I wasn’t going to go into the fact that I’d debated it in my head for over a year before I’d finally elected to have the surgery. How the thought of never carrying a baby had been completely abhorrent for a long time. That I’d finally come to the decision on my twenty-ninth birthday that I couldn’t keep dealing with the pain on the off chance that, at some point, I’d have a husband and I’d want children. That I’d cried about it for the two weeks leading up to the surgery, and even while they were putting me under, I’d wondered if I was doing the right thing.

“Is that—” He paused for a second. “Is that cancer, or—”

“No. Not cancer.” I turned my head to look at him, and found him staring at the ceiling.

“But they’ve been hurting you?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you?” I asked in confusion.

“Well, at least you won’t have to deal with that anymore, yeah?” He tilted his head down and met my eyes, his jaw tight.

“Yep,” I said quietly, nodding my head.

How did I explain that I almost wanted it back? It wouldn’t make any sense to him. Shit, I didn’t know if it would make sense to anyone.

“Come here,” Bram called, reaching out to grab my hand and pull it so that I rolled into his side, my arm around his waist. “That okay? It doesn’t hurt or anything?”

“No.” I shook my head before laying it on his shoulder. “They went through my vagina so I have some little incisions from the laparoscopy on my belly but most of it is—” My words cut off as I realized how absolutely still Bram was.

“Bram?”

“They—” His body shuddered. “They were—they cut you—”

“I’m fine,” I tried to reassure him, but his body didn’t relax. “Bram, seriously, they do it all the time.”

“They don’t do it to you all the time.”

“Thank God for that. Shit hurts.”

Bram shuddered again, and his hand swept down my back, pushing me closer against his side.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” he said roughly, pulling the sheets up and over us.

My skin prickled. “What, are you grossed out now?” I said sharply, embarrassed at his reaction. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You can go at any time. Wouldn’t want to gross you out or anything with the surgery I just had, that I wasn’t even really sure I wanted, and—”

He cut my words off with a wet kiss, one that probably wasn’t appropriate considering the fact that I wouldn’t be able to have sex for a long time while I healed.

“I don’t like the idea of someone with a fucking scalpel up inside you, okay?” he hissed into my mouth, his hand coming up to tangle in my hair as he was careful to keep his weight off my body. “Can we just fucking drop it?”

His breath was ragged, and I could feel his heart racing where my face pressed against his chest. He was really freaked out. I could see it even though I didn’t understand it. By the look on his face, he didn’t understand the reaction, either.

“Okay,” I finally whispered with a nod, kissing his chin softly. “We can drop it.”

He nodded back, inhaling deeply as he pulled his fingers through my hair and then smoothed it away from my face.

His muscles relaxed as he leaned back to rest his head on my pillow, but his arm never released the tight hold on my back.

* * *

The next time I woke up, Bram was gone. I wasn’t surprised. He’d never struck me as a wake-up-the-next-morning-and-make-breakfast kind of guy. No, what surprised me was that he’d even stayed at all the night before.

I groaned as I leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed my pills and water cup from the bedside table. The cup was one of two that I’d brought home from the hospital with me, with a lid and a straw that had kept me from tipping it over and spilling it as I’d fumbled for it the first couple of days home. I leaned forward a little bit and paused with my lips around the straw.

The cup was cold and so was the water inside it. I shook it a little and heard ice cubes clicking against the plastic. I smiled. Bram had gotten me fresh water before he took off.