Pretty Pink Ribbons (25 page)

Levi’s mouth falls open and a cold knot forms in my stomach. “What?” he gasps. “What did you say?” He isn’t moving either. He’s just standing there staring at me like I just told him pigs fly.

Very slowly, I let my hand fall. “I have breast cancer,” I whisper, my voice cracking on that hideous word.

“Laney.” My name falls from his mouth in a desperate plea, and in three strides he’s standing in front of me, gathering me in his arms. A strangled cry rips from my throat and I wrap my arms around him. My fingers curl inward, gripping the back of his shirt tightly in my fists. My body heaves on a deep sob as I finally let myself grieve in front of someone else. My tears are blinding, falling from my eyes in waves, but I don’t make a move to wipe them. I need to let them fall. I need to rid them from my body.

Levi nuzzles his face in the side of my neck and whispers sweet words to try and comfort me.

It’s going to be okay.

We’ll get through this together.

You’re not alone.

I can’t lose you.

I’m not sure how long we stood in that embrace, and I don’t remember how or when we moved to the couch, but when I look up, I’m cradled in his lap and he has a death grip on my body.

“I—I don’t want t-to die, Levi,” I hiccup, my face buried in his chest. “I’m not r-ready.”

“Shhh . . .” His strong hand is soothingly stroking up and down my back in a hypnotizing rhythm. “You’re not going anywhere, Lane. I won’t let you. I’ll hold onto you and I’ll never let go.”

“But that’s the thing—” I pull back frantically, tilting my tear-streaked face up to his. “You d-don’t know th-that. What if the s-surgery didn’t work? What if the ch-chemo doesn’t work?”

“Surgery?” His face falls and his voice is desperate. “What kind of surgery did you have, Lane?”

“Mastectomy.”

“So that means they removed the whole breast?” he clarifies. I nod and look down. “How long have you been getting chemotherapy?”

My head snaps up, my eyes pleading with him not to be mad at me. “It’s why I’m off every other Friday.” My tears start to slow but my breathing picks up pace, along with my heart as I wait for his reaction.

“This whole time . . .” He breaks eye contact and looks off to the side. “This whole time that’s where you’ve been going, and I didn’t even know. I would’ve been there with you, Laney.” His eyes find mine again. Sadness and frustration are warring for a spot on his beautiful face, and I curl myself into his chest.

“I should have told you—I know I should have told you—but I wanted you to pick me again for the right reasons.” I watch as regret, defeat, sadness, and pain flash across his face. I wait to see anger and disgust, but they never come.

“The fatigue—”

“Chemo,” I mumble.

“You’ve lost weight and you haven’t been hungry.” He isn’t asking a question. He already knows.

“And nausea—”

“Because of the chemo,” he says dryly, finishing my sentence. I nod feebly. Levi slips his arm under my legs and lifts me from his lap. With gentle ease, he places me on the couch and then stands up.

“I, uh . . .” He spares me a quick glance and then looks away. “I need a minute.” He walks out of the living room and into the kitchen. I hear the faint sound of a door opening and shutting, the noise signaling the exact moment when my heart breaks into a million little pieces.

He left me.

Bending my knees, I pull my legs to my chest, my arms clutching at them for dear life. I can’t believe this happening. I’m numb. Completely numb. Levi was the reason I was fighting. He was the one thing I wanted if I survived . . . and I just lost him.

MY HANDS CURL INTO my hair and I tug forcefully, desperately needing to feel something other than this sharp pain that is stabbing through the left side of my chest. I tilt my face up to the sky, blinking several times, but it doesn’t help because a tear still floats carelessly down the side of my face. And then another and another. I brush them away angrily, but they just keep coming. A guttural moan tears from my throat as I let the weight of her words settle inside of me.

Cancer.

Laney has cancer.
My
Laney has cancer.

This can’t be happening. She can’t come back to me and then be ripped out of my arms—the world wouldn’t be so cruel, would it? Anger seeps through my veins, slowly taking over the sadness and grief that I was feeling just moments ago. Anger at God for letting this happen to such a wonderful person . . .
my
wonderful person. Anger at Laney for not telling me sooner so that I could be there for her, because—damn it—I want to be there for her. And anger at myself for not asking more questions. Not once did I bother to ask what she was doing on those Fridays off. I didn’t push for more answers when she was always yawning or falling asleep in the middle of a conversation. Her pale face and dark circles were unmistakable, but I was so wrapped up in our new little world that I didn’t even bother to try and figure out what was going on.

I sit on the ground, leaning against the side of my house. The bricks are still hot from the midday sun, but I don’t move because I feel numb. I’m at a loss for where to go from here. But I guess, in all honesty, there isn’t really a choice. Laney has to have this chemo. She has to fight for her life, and I’m going to be there with her every step of the way. There’s no way I’m letting her go now, and I can’t lose her.
I just can’t.
She deserves to have someone fight this battle with her, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

And then it hits me like a ton of bricks—I’m not in there with her now. She just dumped a load of information and insecurities in my lap, leaving herself open and vulnerable, and I just left her there in my living room¸ crying. I’m a fucking dick.

Pushing up from the ground, I stalk back into the house, determined to show her how much she means to me. I want her to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that her scars don’t scare me and that I want her, just the way she is.

Laney is exactly where I left her, only now she’s curled into a ball and her shoulders are bobbing as she cries into her arms. Wasting no time, I walk over to her and scoop her into my arms. Her head snaps up and I inwardly cringe at her wide eyes—fuck me, she’s shocked I actually came back.

“Levi?” Her voice is scratchy and raw. I don’t answer her because I need to show her, and if I talk right now I’ll probably lose my shit. When I don’t speak, she tucks her hands under her chin and cuddles into my chest.
This is where she belongs.

I walk quickly through the house and kick my bedroom door open with my foot, then set her gently on my bed. “Will you scoot back for me, sweetheart?”

She moves herself to the center of the bed and watches me with naked vulnerability . . . and that look alone splinters my heart in two. I kick off my shoes and then slip her sandals off of her tiny feet. Leaning back on her hands, her eyes follow every move I make. When I reach for the button on her shorts, she sucks in a sharp breath but lifts her hips without question. I drag her shorts down her legs then make quick work of taking off my clothes, leaving only my boxers. I crawl onto the bed and she starts to move back, but I shake my head and she stops. Her eyes are searing through me, taking me in the same way I’m taking her in. When I grip the bottom of her shirt, her body stills and I can practically see the breath hitching in her throat. Maybe she isn’t ready for this.

I pause, giving her the chance to stop me, but she inhales deeply before raising her arms so I can slip the shirt over her head. My mouth waters and my eyes greedily roam every inch of her nearly naked body in an attempt to sate my eight-year craving. She’s wearing a white lace bra and matching white cotton panties, and it doesn’t matter that it’s not blood red or black or barely there, it’s sexy as hell because it’s wrapped around her delectable body.

She’s an angel.

My eyes land on the right side of her chest, where I can’t help but notice that the cup of her bra is full and round. She glances down to see what I’m looking at. “It’s a mastectomy bra.” Blinking rapidly, she bites down on her lower lip before adjusting the underwire. “It isn’t comfortable, but it looks almost normal when I wear a shirt . . .” Her words trail off and I watch a subtle flush creep up her neck, infusing her cheeks.

“You look sexy as hell, Lane.” I crawl up her body and toy with the front clasp of her bra. “May I?”

She peeks up at me and nods. With a quick flick, the bra falls open. Laney’s body is trembling under my hands and I hate that she’s this nervous about me seeing her. Cradling her face, I rub my thumbs along her jaw. With my eyes locked on hers, I bring her face to mine and when our lips meet, she lets out a soft sigh. “I want to make love to you, Laney.”

Her eyes are glistening and there’s a slight quiver in her bottom lip. Releasing her face, I trail my fingers down the length of her neck then sneak them under the straps of her loosened bra, tugging it down her shoulders. After I toss it aside, I bring my hands back to her neck, my thumbs tracing her jaw. “Are you okay?”

She offers me a tremulous smile and nods jerkily. “I’m just scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of. We’ve done this a thousand times before. You haven’t forgotten about all those times, have you?” I ask playfully, trying to get her to loosen up a tad.

She chuckles and shakes her head. I scatter kisses across her beautiful face and tuck a strand of her silky hair behind her ear. Laney takes a deep breath, a look of resolve flashing across her face. Pulling back from me, she lies against the pillows at the head of my bed.

Laney is showing me her scars. With graceful beauty, she’s presenting me with her body.

Her left breast is perky and plump, but where her right breast should be, there’s a serrated scar. That side of her chest looks like it’s sunken in, and the skin looks stretched and mildly uncomfortable.

“Please touch me,” she pleads. I look up at her to find her eyes frantically searching my face. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but if she’s wondering if her scars are turning me off, she sure as hell won’t find that. Reaching up, I tenderly stroke a hand down the center of her chest. When my fingers draw a line across the puckered skin where her breast used to be, she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” She follows my gentle command. Her heart is pounding so hard that I can feel it through her chest. “Your scars don’t bother me, Laney. They’re a part of you. They’re your battle scars. If anything, they make me insanely proud of you.”

My lips trace a slow path along her scar and then progress to the puckered skin around it. Her fingers tangle in my hair and her body relaxes. My mouth moves to the other side of her chest, where I find her nipple tightened and hard. My lips wrap around the swollen bud, and her body jerks beneath me.

“Levi,” she moans, her head tilting back on the pillow, and I work my tongue faster, sucking harder. My free hand skims down her body and dips into her underwear. She’s wet and throbbing, and I can’t wait any longer to claim her and make her mine.

“Are you on birth control?” She probably is. I’m sure there’s some rule about not getting pregnant while you’re undergoing chemotherapy.

“No,” she whispers. My eyes flash to hers and I smile at the look of horror on her face.

“It’s okay,” I chuckle, grabbing a condom from the top drawer of my nightstand. I peel off my boxers then tear open the wrapper, but Laney stops me before I can slide the latex on.

“Let me.” She grabs the condom and with incredible ease, she rolls it down my hardened length. My cock jerks under her touch, and she looks up at me and smiles. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

“Oh baby, I’m not forgetting anything. I’m just saving the best for last.” Her face lights up, her eyes flashing hot with passion, as I slip my fingers into the top of her panties and slide them off.