Hotshot - Ahren Sanders Page 0,60

to a booth in a corner.

“What the hell was that? You didn’t want a Coke?”

“Thank your fucking brother for that. He’s filled my fridge and my pantry with at least six cases of Coke. Every time we start talking about the situation, he hands me a cold one, thinking it will miraculously change things. Never thought I’d say this, but I’m not sure even the powers of Coke can make this better.”

“So talk to me, and don’t give me this ‘I’m fine’ bullshit. I know you, Bizzy. Nothing about this situation is fine.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m processing.”

“How exactly are you processing?”

“Well, for one, I’m prepared for the test to come back positive. Shaw’s done denying it. He’s ready to move forward.”

“This isn’t about Shaw. I don’t give a flying fuck right now about how my stupid ass brother is. This is about you.”

This is why Nick Bennett has been my rock for so long. His concern for me knows no bounds. Blood may be thicker than water, but to him, I am blood.

I push the salad around the plate, my appetite disappearing.

“I’m hurt and so, so scared,” I finally admit out loud.

“Hurt I can understand, but why are you scared? We’re not kids anymore, and Sasha Crane can’t do anything else to you.”

I give a sarcastic laugh. “If only you knew.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Time to spill, Bizzy. I’m serious here. Tell me what’s going through your head.”

I drop my fork and abandon eating, looking up into his concerned eyes.

“Don’t you think this is too weird? Like the universe has it out for me? I’ve always tried to see the bright side of things, but I can’t turn this around. I hated getting cancer. I was scared out of my mind, but it brought me you. It was tough getting into the Nursing Program, but it gave me the incentive to work and push harder. There, I met Claire. Every time I lose a patient, it affects me all the way to my bones, but I remember their sweet faces and try to make my next patient smile through the pain.

“This is too much. I can’t see the bright side. The chances of Shaw getting another woman pregnant were slim. But the chance it is Sasha Crane? That’s too eerie. And now I have to live with the fact she can give him what I may not be able to. A baby.”

Before I can say any more, Nicky is around the table and sliding in the booth next to me. His arms wrap around my shoulders, and I concentrate hard not to cry.

“Tell me more,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

“The chemo, the radiation, all of the drugs. There’s a chance it affected my ability to reproduce. That’s the reason I was in the doctor’s office last Friday. I went to talk about my options. Shaw wants kids. I wanted to give them to him. But now, even if it is possible, he’ll always have a child with another woman.” Air rushes out of my lungs at the confession.

“Son of a fucking bitch. Goddamnit, Bizzy, why didn’t you come talk to me? You’ve been dealing with this alone?”

“In case you forgot, since I got home two days ago, Shaw has been everywhere. He’s bossy and demanding and forcing me to talk to him. This is the one piece of me I’ve been internalizing. And besides, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“But I get it. I’m the only fucking person that does. I know your fears. I have them, too.”

“You do?” I tilt my face to his.

“Yes, I was checked last year. It was a routine check-up, and when my doctor mentioned we could check my sperm, I went for it.”

“And?”

“Motility, mobility, and all that shit look good. Only time will tell, but he was encouraging.”

“That’s good.”

“The point is, you’re not alone. Especially now.”

I nod and lay my head back on his shoulder. “Thank you for telling me. It gives me hope.”

“Anytime, never thought you’d be interested in my sperm or I’d have mentioned it sooner.” His voice is laced with humor.

I pretend to gag and make a retching sound. “Now you’ve made it gross.”

He laughs, his chest shaking against my cheek.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I love you, too.”

“Well, good, because you ever hold something this big inside again, I’ll beat your ass.”

It’s my turn to giggle at another of our inside jokes. “Bring it on, ball boy… bring it on.”

We laugh

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