Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Mom didn’t go into a lot of detail. Just that they caught it early. They think it’s stage one, and they want him to see an oncologist, but they expect him to need more surgery around the area of the polyp that was removed. With luck, no treatment after. Yada, yada,” he said, unable to help the sarcasm in his voice.
She narrowed her gaze. “Okay, we’re going to sit down and talk.” Grasping his hand, she pulled him down the hall and back to his room, pushing at him until he sat on the edge of the bed. “You said before you knew better than to trust what a doctor promises. Now this. Why are you so skeptical?”
He didn’t answer immediately, not used to discussing his past.
“Okay, let’s try this. How did your mother sound? Is she worried the doctors are wrong? Does she want a second opinion? Is she scared and disbelieving?” Chloe latched on to the subject and refused to let go.
He dipped his head. “Mom said she trusts the doctor and kept reassuring me Dad will be fine. But she was the same when Whitney was diagnosed.” Shaking his head, he muttered a curse. “Shit.”
Her hand rested on top of his. “Who’s Whitney?” she asked, her tone gentle.
He groaned and forced himself to meet her gaze. “My sister. Tripp’s twin. She died when she was sixteen. Leukemia.”
Chloe gasped. “I had no idea. God, Beck. I’m sorry.” Her hand curled tighter around his. “If you can’t talk about it, I understand.”
Silence descended between them, and once again, he fought with himself over whether or not to reach out to her this way. Last night it had been about their physical connection. Telling her about Whitney now would create an emotional bond, the very thing he’d been trying to avoid.
“You know that my dad died suddenly,” she said, taking over the conversation when he couldn’t. “He had a heart attack. But what nobody knew was that he had the beginnings of dementia before that.”
Beck winced. It wasn’t the right time to get into the business mess that had recently occurred between him and Linc, and it wouldn’t change anything with Chloe if he told her he’d heard rumors about her father’s illness. Or about the land deal. It would just force a discussion of his history with her brother. And that was too much to add to today’s heavy drama. So he let her continue.
“No matter how distant Dad was to my mom and us kids, I didn’t want Dad – or any of us—to suffer watching him with that disease. And when he died, a part of me was grateful we wouldn’t have to. And then I felt guilty for being glad he was gone.” She was confiding in him, obviously encouraging him to do the same.
“I understand but you have nothing to feel guilty about.” He glanced down at her hand still covering his and knew he was going to break and tell her about his sister.
He swallowed hard. “Whitney was Tripp’s twin. He couldn’t face watching her fade away, and Drew was busy with internships. I was there with her during treatments and after, when she’d get sick.” He drew a deep breath before continuing. “The doctors said she had a good chance of beating it, and she believed them. My parents believed them. Everyone, including me, clung to that hope. Until it became obvious she wouldn’t.”
Chloe’s hand came to his neck, her fingers threading up through his hair as she sat close and did the only thing she could. She listened.
“That’s why I don’t believe in doctors’ platitudes. Words are easy. Statistics are just quotable numbers. Nobody really knows what’s going to happen, and my experience with Whitney taught me to expect the worst.”
Chloe sighed. “We both know there’s nothing I can say that’s going to change what happened to your sister. And I can’t promise you that your father is going to be fine. But living without optimism isn’t good for you. Expecting awful things and waiting for the worst to happen? All that means is that you’ll miss out on the good things in between.”
He heard her words. He just wasn’t sure how to process them.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said softly.
They sat in silence for a little while. The feel of her fingers against his scalp was mesmerizing and comforting, even as it was arousing. Something he wouldn’t be acting on.
Not now.
Hell, he didn’t know if being with her ever again was smart considering how deeply she got to him. This whole scene had been too intimate. “Let’s go to the office,” he said, rising to his feet.
She nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Let me get my things from my room. Oh, and can we stop somewhere for me to pick up breakfast? I never had a chance to eat, and I’m dying for some coffee.”