a deep connection, that was just ours. An invisible string that somehow kept us connected over a decade despite our physical distance. Because isn’t that what souls do with their mates?
His hands come up to my face, cupping my cheeks, holding me in place. Making me look straight into his cloudy eyes. His shaky thumbs brush across my skin as he breathes warm air into my face. “Baby, listen to me. I need you to tell me right now what’s going on before I lose my fucking mind, okay?”
I swallow and press my lips together. The back of my eyes burn like they’re on fire.
When I have my emotions under control—at least as much as possible in this situation—I give a quick nod.
“Okay, good.” A rush of air escapes his lips, and he caresses my cheeks one more time before letting his hands drop to the bed.
“I . . . the . . .” How am I going to tell him? Where to start?
One of his hands inches closer to mine on the covers, and the contact helps. It centers me.
You’ve got this. Just say it.
Once the words are out, they aren’t yours anymore. They’ll be his to process.
“So, the medicine . . .” I look at the ceiling and blink. I’ve talked about this a gazillion times, so why is this so hard with him?
“Yeah?” His thumb rubs over my knuckles. “What’s it for?”
Deep breath. Three, two, one.
“My heart.” I push out the words and stare at him.
Two words. They hold all the meaning in this world to me—my whole life—while to him they are still only two words. A few letters put together to name the core of our mortality.
His brows draw together and he stiffens. “What about your heart?”
Crap, I can’t bring myself to just say it. The words are stuck in my throat, and I can’t get them out. Seeing him like this has my gut clenching.
“Do you have high blood pressure? Is that what the medicine is for?”
“Two of them, yes.”
His head keeps bobbing like a bobblehead. “Okay, okay.” There’s a pause and more intense staring that I can’t seem to escape from. Like no way in hell will he miss even one single second of anything regarding me. “And what’s all the other medicine for?”
My chin quivers. “Anti-infection and anti . . .”
“And anti what?”
My cheeks puff up before I blow out a breath. I repeat that several more times, trying so hard to keep my impending breakdown under control. “Anti . . . anti-rejection.”
There. It’s out.
I watch his face as he continues to stare at me, and I wonder if he’s replaying our conversation so he can put the puzzle pieces together. Or attempt to.
“Anti-rejection . . . anti-rejection. What did Daisy mention about this bef . . .” And then there it is. Possibly some info his nurse-sister shared with him before, but something clicks. He shakes his head and rears back. “For an organ?”
A gasp escapes my mouth when he jumps up and begins to pace the room, his head tilted to the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head.
And I let him. I give him the time he needs to work through this. Allow him to make a decision on how to handle it.
When he stops and looks at me, his gaze is so tormented I’m unable to draw in my next breath. For so long, this man’s happiness kept me going. It fueled me, convincing me I made the right choice when I let him go. Seeing him like this hurts in so many ways that my insides feel stretched. Overdrawn to the point of excruciation. But isn’t that exactly what I deserve after leaving him all those years ago, after removing myself from a situation where I’d never see his pain?
“How long ago?” His voice is so low I can barely make out his words.
“A while ago.”
“Chloe.” His hands are shaking so hard by his sides, he balls them into fists. “How. Fucking. Long. Ago?”
I curl my hands into the comforter to keep them from trembling. “Ten years ago.”
“No. That can’t be true. No, no, no.” After one look at me—seeking confirmation once more—he turns and lets out a cry that I’d normally associate with a wounded animal. It’s so haunting, I feel it all the way to my core. My whole body is shaking as I track his movements, unable to look away from him.
And then he slams his fist into the wall before falling to his