head, forehead grinding into his jacket. “It’s not okay.” She sucked in a breath, let it out around a choked sob. “None of this is okay.”
“It will be,” he insisted, voice cracking. “It has to be.”
“And what if it’s not?” She shoved back, daring him with her glare to answer. “What if the cancer’s back? What then? More hospitals and chemo and bills and—”
“We’ll get through it,” he insisted, shaking her a little, his fierce determination trembling down his arms. “Like before. We’ll kick its ass and show that damn disease the Polsons don’t give up.”
God. How could she put them through it again? How could she survive watching the fear and worry and pain they would all carry, knowing it was her fault?
Her stomach burned, the pain piercing her abdomen to damn her more.
She crumbled into the security of Aiden’s strength, selfishly taking what he offered. This one time, she promised herself. She’d take it now and be tough later.
He stroked her hair and held her until the tears slowed and she couldn’t justify leaning on him any longer. It went against everything she lived by. Strong, she had to be, even if she didn’t feel it.
She stepped back and swiped at the tears clinging to her cheeks, embarrassment swooping in now that the storm had passed. She sniffed and headed to the counter for much-needed tissues and some distance. She was emotionally drained and exhausted from the constant worry.
A glance at the clock had her moving to the front door to lock it and flip the closed sign. Fifteen minutes wouldn’t make a difference, not tonight.
“Don’t you have to work?” she asked Aiden when she came back. Her slobber stains were all over his jacket, and she was sure she looked a mess. She’d never been a graceful crier, all the more reason to avoid the act.
“You’re more important.” He leaned on the counter, arms crossed in a sign of stubbornness that said he wasn’t moving until she talked. Great.
“I’m good.” She went back to the pianos. “Thank you though.” It was doubtful he’d let it go at that, but maybe she’d luck out and his male aversion to emotional drama would get her off the hook.
“Is there a reason why you’re so scared?”
So much for getting a pass. She blew out a long sigh and started folding the rest of the signs. “Help me if you’re going to stand there.” She shoved a stack at him without meeting his eyes. He did the task, waiting until the silence drew her out. She recognized that evil-mother tactic and fell for it anyway.
This was Aiden. He’d already given so much for her. Did she owe him an explanation?
“It’s eight years.” She didn’t need to say more. Most cancer survivors cheered at the five-year mark. They’d done that once and had gotten socked when eight years rolled around.
“It’s just a number.” He handed her his folded pile of signs. “Is there something else going on?”
She placed the signs on the pianos, shuffling through the possible responses. How honest should she be? Was there a point in worrying him—or anyone—before the tests came back? She didn’t want to ruin Thanksgiving for her family.
“No.” Her back was to him when she told the lie. “I’m just stressed about it, like always.”
He eased her around until she had to look at him. “You’ve never been this upset.” He searched her, his brown eyes so like her own reaching in to find her secrets. She’d never been able to hide things from him. She should’ve known better than to try.
She jerked out of his hold, set the last tent on her favorite Steinway and went back to the counter for the other sale signs.
“What happened with Henrik?”
The stack of signs slipped from her hands to scatter across the floor in a shuffle of scraping poster board. Damn it. She crouched to sort the mess out, cursing Aiden for his intrusion.
And loving him for loving her enough to push. He wasn’t going to give up.
She slumped forward. The tears were back, scratching up her throat to threaten her thin line of composure. Her curse echoed silently in her head as she squeezed her eyes closed and willed her emotions back.
And why? Why was she working so hard to be strong when Aiden obviously knew she wasn’t?
She shifted around to land on her bottom, back braced against the aisle end-cap boasting a display of posters. She looked up at Aiden, defeat dragging her down. “What do