his hair, ran her hands down his neck to his shoulders, feeling the knot of stress bunched there. “Ryan, you’re scaring me.”
He didn’t answer. Just pressed warm, firm, solid fingers tighter against her hip bones, as if holding on for dear life.
“Talk to me,” she whispered.
His rugged features were laced with heartache when he looked up. And fear spread to panic when she saw the guilt seep into those mesmerizing blue eyes of his.
She drew in a sharp breath.
Without even asking, she knew somehow he was involved in whatever had happened to her.
Chapter Thirteen
He stared at her so long with that guilt-ridden look, Kate wanted to shake the words out of him. “Ryan, what?”
“Tabofren showed promise in shrinking certain inoperable tumors. But the FDA put a stop to the clinical trials when major side effects started popping up, questioning its safety.”
“You already said that in the car,” she reminded him.
“I know. I just couldn’t remember what those side effects were.”
“Why do I have a feeling I don’t want to hear about those side effects?”
He swallowed and glanced at her abdomen. “The drug targeted a signaling pathway that stimulates tumor growth in patients with advance-stage cancers. We were really excited about it after initial animal testing, and so was the FDA. They fast-tracked it into clinical trials.”
“And?”
“Minor side effects included skin irritation, rashes, and dry mucous membranes. Nothing out of the ordinary. But the ones that caused the FDA to pull it were more serious. They were generally seen in patients with brain and spinal-cord tumors—severe headaches, changes in mood and personality, and…and memory loss.”
Oh, God.
Ryan’s fingers tightened around her waist, preventing her from easing away. “When patients in the clinical trials started reporting the symptoms, especially the black-out style memory lapses, they were backed off the drug. Most of them didn’t suffer any long-lasting effects.”
“Ryan, why would I have been given that? I don’t understand. You said I didn’t have cancer.”
“You didn’t. I don’t…I don’t quite know what’s going on here, but…”
“But what?” She couldn’t seem to keep the panic out of her voice. When he didn’t look up, she cupped her hand around his chin and lifted so he would look at her. “What, Ryan?”
He sat back and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Take a look at the screen and tell me if you recognize that man.”
Kate ran her fingers over the keypad of his computer. The screensaver blinked off. Jake’s face popped up. “Oh, my God.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said quietly.
“Why do you have Jake’s picture?”
“That’s Dr. Jacob McKellen. He developed Tabofren. He was heading the clinical studies.”
No. Kate turned to the screen then backed away. No. Not possible. Words choked in her throat. This wasn’t happening.
Ryan pushed out of the chair, grasped her by the shoulders. “Don’t. Don’t close in on me right now. Stay with me.”
“No. You’re wrong. There’s a different explanation. There has to be.”
“Babe—”
“Why? He did this to me on purpose?” How could the man she’d loved, had lived with for over a year, had trusted with her son…how could he intentionally have done something to hurt her?
“We don’t know that. This doesn’t make sense to me, either, but we’ll figure it out.” He pulled her into the warmth of his arms before she could back away.
She let him hold her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. Off Jake’s face looking back at her. Memories of their life together flashed in front of her eyes—Jake holding Reed at a backyard barbecue, dancing at a hospital fundraiser together, making love with him in their bed. A shudder ran through her, and she tried to wiggle away, but Ryan held her tight.
“You’re okay,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.” She struggled but didn’t have the energy to fight him when he tightened his hold. Finally, she sank into him while emotions poured through her. How could she have been so wrong? How could she have not seen what Jake was underneath? Had she been blind? Or had she just not wanted to look close enough?
Ryan smoothed a hand over her hair, his lips whispered reassurances in her ear. But his earlier words echoed in her mind.
“You…you said his name was McKellen.”
He didn’t loosen his grasp. “Yeah. Jacob McKellen. His family’s owned and operated McKellen Publishing for years.”
Her shoulders slumped. Bile rose in her throat. “He…he said he never wanted me to work, but he didn’t object to my freelancing. He knew at some point I’d end up working for