He took a seat across from her, matching her bent-knee pose in a move reminiscent of the hours he’d spent waiting with her in various medical facilities. He nudged her shoe, cajoling smile playing on his lips. “Why are you so upset?”
She dropped her head back, taking an inventory of her stack of worries. “The cancer, mostly. And everything it’s cost me.” That was the short and sweet answer.
“It only takes what you’re willing to give it.”
“Ha!” Her chuckle was heavy with disgust. “It takes whether you want it to or not.” Her emotions flattened out with the simple reality. “It takes more than whatever body part it attacks. It steals your trust and sucks your hope away too. It slams your fragility in your face and dances it before everyone you love. And once it’s passed, once you think it’s gone, it’s still there. Its dark trails of fear are so firmly implanted that no matter how hard you try to forget and move on, it’s always there, festering that niggling of doubt that if you dare to forget—even for a second—it’ll be back to tear your life apart again.”
Aiden hadn’t moved during her speech, not even a blink. Slowly his hands curled into fists, nostrils flaring with his silent inhalation. She closed her eyes, her pulse accelerating with what she’d revealed.
“You’re not alone, you know.” He nudged her foot again, but she didn’t open her eyes. “You’re not the only one who feels like that.” Her eyes flew open, lips parting in shock. “We all feel exactly the same way. That fucking disease knocked us all back, and every damn one of us has let it. “ The lack of emotion in his voice hit her the hardest. No venom or disgust. Not even snide anger. Nothing.
Her soft humph was another shot of self-contempt. “So much for us strong Polsons.”
“Hey.” He grinned around his faked affront. “We can kick ass. Don’t forget that.”
“Right. This is some really good ass kicking we’re doing right here.”
“It’s a break. Even ass-kickers need a break.”
She shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging on her lips. “That’s the hardest part. Knowing how my illness has affected all of you. It’s not fair.” She inhaled, held it and let it go. “And I don’t want to put you through it again. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. Not a third time.”
“Neither should you.”
She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked the hurt away. “I can deal with myself. Deal with what it does to me. It’s knowing how much I’m hurting everyone else that kills me.”
“And it kills us knowing there’s nothing we can do to help you.” The exposed pain in his voice had Jacqui lifting her head. The grief, anger and frustration he usually kept hidden from her was there for her to see.
She swallowed, wished there was a way to make it go away. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he insisted, hand cutting through the air in a hard slice. “None of this is your fault. Don’t you see that? It just happened, so stop feeling guilty about it.” He sucked in a breath, slowly falling back.
What did she say to that? Logically, she agreed with his words. Understood it completely and would say the same thing to another cancer survivor. But emotionally, she couldn’t make herself agree.
He thrust his hands into his hair, tugging the strands away from his face. No matter what she did, she was hurting the people around her.
“I’m sorry,” was on her lips again, but she bit the words back. He didn’t want to hear them.
The pain in her stomach gnawed into a sharp cramp that dug into her side. She slid her palm over the point of pain and held in her wince.
Aiden lowered his hands, his bout of anger gone from his face. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
She shrugged it off, both his apology and his earlier words. “It was true.”
“But I didn’t need to yell at you.”
“At least I heard you.”
“Did you? Hear me?”
Her single nod was all she could give him. Hearing didn’t equal listening.
He sat forward, crossing his legs to lean on them. “Does that mean you’ll stop running from Henrik?”
“What?” She should’ve seen that side-check coming but she hadn’t. Her head was shaking before her gut reaction had her leaping up. That wasn’t Aiden’s business. Not even close. “Leave that alone,” she warned, glaring down at him. “It has nothing to do with this.”