After the game, we went for pizza with Courtney and her parents. Nicole and Avery joined us. I felt more comfortable having Nicole there. I really liked Jimmy and Jane, but at least they could talk to Avery and not just me. Avery was like their second son and reminded me of how I was with Nicole’s parents. Over the last few years, life got in the way and I wasn’t around them much except Thanksgiving and Christmas. Nicole’s parents didn’t take me in when I was growing up, not until Nicole and I met our freshman year in high school. Those four years were the best of my life.
Cheyenne had seemed to warm up to me a little in the short time that I was with her. I understood her hesitancy, but if I just talked her language then she was fine with me, and her language was softball. When Bailee was ten, she was into Barbie’s. That girl loved her dolls, so I bought her a Barbie Mansion for her eighth birthday. I’d had to save up for six months working as a hostess at the diner, but she’d loved it and that was all that mattered. She played with her Barbie family as if they were real. They were her world. Barbie and Ken were married with kids and I knew why. I tried to tell my mother that Bailee needed her more, but my mom needed sex more than she needed us.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell my mom about my tumor. Does a mother who pretty much only gave birth to her daughter, deserve to know that she may have cancer? Yeah, my mother gave us money … a hundred dollars a week to buy food, but a kid needed love—I needed love.
I went to another doctor for a second opinion the Wednesday after New York at the request of Dr. Bloom. He, of course, said I needed to have the tumor removed. By the time I made it back to work, Dr. Bloom’s office had called me to schedule my surgery. He had a cancelation the following Friday and I took it. Everything was happening too fast. I wanted the pain gone, but I was scared of having the surgery. I was scared that I might have cancer.
I hadn’t told Bailee about my tumor. I didn’t want her to worry. Finals were only a few weeks away and I needed her to focus. I had Nicole and Easton to take care of me and they were doing a good job so far.
My MRI was brutal. Not being able to move for what felt like an eternity was hard. They told me that it would only be forty-five minutes, but I was in that thing for an hour and a half. A few times the lady came out and let me move a little because she needed to get a different angle. The doctors told me that my tumor was “unique” because of the location. The second opinion doctor suggested going through my back to get the tumor out and Dr. Bloom wanted to go in through my right side. The third alternative would be to go through my chest cavity.
I decided to take the week off before my surgery because all I could think about was my tumor. I told Ian that the doctor wanted me to prep for surgery and not stress—which was true. Ian wasn’t happy. I would be out of the office a month and a half for recovery and I was his only paralegal.
Lucy and Mike were more supportive than Ian. They told Ian that they would do their own paralegal work or they could hire a temporary replacement. Ian, being the cheap bastard that he was, decided not to hire anyone, so Lucy and Mike were stuck doing my work, too. I felt bad for them, but they understood. They actually cared for me, unlike Ian, and they promised to sneak me in a few cheeseburgers so I wouldn’t have to eat nasty hospital food.
Easton and Avery hired a few more bartenders so they could be in Boston for my surgery. I tried to tell them I would be fine and I would see them when I got out, but they wouldn’t listen to me. Friday night, Nicole and Avery came over and made sure I had enough food, movies, and books on my Kindle.
I missed Cheyenne’s game that Saturday, but Easton filled me in. He stayed two nights because he couldn’t leave Cheyenne for long. I was trying to be strong and not show that I was scared. He made sure I had food like Avery and Nicole had done the day before. However, I didn’t have much of an appetite. Before he left, he gave me another one of his T-shirts that smelled like him—delicious. This time it was an Anaheim Angels one. I was a Red Sox fan, but I wore his shirt anyway because it was his shirt.
That week, I had to do breathing exercises to get my lungs ready for surgery. They were going to have to deflate my right lung so they could get to the tumor. I hadn’t realized how weak my lungs were until I had to blow in a device and make a ball float to a certain point and hold it there for a few seconds. I could barely do five seconds and Dr. Bloom wanted me to get to ten.
After I had the surgery, I was told I would need to blow into the device again a few times a day to prevent pneumonia. If my lungs weren’t strong enough, I was screwed. I couldn’t leave the hospital until they were sure my lungs were clear. Dr. Bloom estimated I would be in the hospital for at least five days, so I did the breathing exercises whenever I had free time.
I was freaking out.
When Brooke told me that she was having surgery in nine days, I was scrambling. I wasn’t ready. Avery and I hadn’t hired more bartenders, and I hadn’t talked to Cheyenne about Brooke’s tumor, so I couldn’t just take off and be with Brooke.
I told Avery about Brooke’s surgery date and he said he would take care of hiring people. We also talked to Bethy and she would cover on Saturday night for me. I just had to get through Friday night and coach Peanut’s game and then I would be on my way to take care of my girl—even if it were only for a few days.
Thursday after practice, I decided to talk to Cheyenne about Brooke’s tumor. I didn’t want Cheyenne to think that I was replacing her or wanting to spend more time with Brooke than her. I wanted to be with both my girls so they would start getting to know each other.
“Hey, Peanut, once you get cleaned up, I need to talk to you,” I said, walking into the house after practice.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No, of course not.”
“What’s it about?”
“Just go get cleaned up and ready for dinner. We’ll talk then.”
Cheyenne left to take a shower while I made one of Cheyenne’s favorite meals: chicken teriyaki bowls. I loved that it was her favorite because it was easy to make.
“Did you like having Brooke at your game?” I asked as we sat at our kitchen table.
“I guess.” She shrugged.
“Remember how I said that she would come to a lot of them and she said she would help you practice and get better?”
“Yeah?”
“She’s not going to be able to make it this weekend.”
“Why, did you break up?”
“No, of course not.” That thought killed me just thinking about it. “She’s sick.”
“Oh, okay.”
“It’s more than a cold or the flu, Peanut.”
“What is it?”
“Do you know what a tumor is?”
“I think so,” she said, sticking a bite of the salty sweet chicken in her mouth.
“Well, a tumor is like a ball that grows inside you.”
“Eww!”
I had to take a deep breath before my next description. “Sometimes that ball can be cancer.”
“She’s … She’s dying?”
“No, Peanut … Well, we don’t know. We aren’t sure if it is cancer or not.”
“So sometimes a tumor isn’t a bad thing?”
“Right, but Brooke is in a lot of pain and she has to have it removed, so next Friday she’s having surgery.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“She can’t come to your games until she gets better.”
“How long will that be?”
“I’m not sure, Peanut. Hopefully very soon,” I sighed.
“Okay.”
“On Saturday, after your game, I need to go take care of her. She’s getting ready to have surgery and she needs me.”
“Can I come?”
“Not this time. I won’t be back until Monday night for practice and you have school.”
“Oh.” She frowned, looking into her bowl.
“Do you want to visit her in the hospital and bring her flowers? I bet she’ll want to hear all abou
t your games.”
“Okay!”
When I finally made it to Boston Saturday night, Brooke looked worried. She tried to act like she was happy, but I’d catch her on the verge of tears. I tried taking her mind off everything but that only lasted for a few hours.
“Want to go out tonight?” I asked after I set my bag in her bedroom when I arrived a little before five.
“Out where?”
“Well, you know, I haven’t even taken you on a real date, yet.”
“Huh, I guess you’re right.” She leaned on the doorframe, watching me.
“Let me take my girlfriend on a real date before she has a month and half recovery after surgery. We don’t know what that entails.”
She thought for a moment. I saw something in her eyes as she looked away. I wasn’t sure, but she didn’t have the same energy as she had before we found out about the tumor. She didn’t look sick, but she just didn’t look like the girl I met a month before. “Okay, where do you want to go?”
“Not sure, I’ll figure it out. Go get dressed.” She looked down at her yoga pants. “No, dressed up. I’m taking my lady to a nice dinner.”
“Okay.” She smiled. It was almost her normal smile. I would get it before the night was over.
I called ahead to the Italian restaurant and put in our name. When we arrived we had a table for two available that overlooked the harbor. I ordered a bottle of wine and we nibbled on bread while we waited for our entrees.
Brooke wore a simple black strapless dress and black heels. She was gorgeous. When I’d wanted more than a random dick suck, I’d taken a few women out, but usually they’d tried too hard. They would wear short dresses that showed their ass when they bent over, a ton of make-up and a bottle of perfume. At the time, that was my type. Now I had the girl of my dreams—the one who didn’t need make-up to be beautiful or close-to-nothing clothes. I didn’t need the slutty look to turn me on. Hell, Brooke’s yoga pants turned me on!
We ate a family style meal and then I ordered her favorite dessert: crème brûlée.
“How did you know that was my favorite?” she asked after the waiter left.
“Because you ordered it every night on the cruise.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “I guess I did. Do you know how to make it?”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“I plan to,” I smirked.
“If you do that, you’ll make me fat.” She laughed again. Her smile was almost normal.
“Trust me, I won’t let that happen. I know of a few ways to burn those calories,” I winked at her.
The waiter brought the dessert and I let Brooke have most of it. I don’t think she realized it, but she kept going for more and I let her. After dinner, we walked down to the harbor and walked along the water, looking at the cityscape as it reflected off the dark water. It was a warm night, the stars shining bright and everything was perfect.
Brooke asked about Cheyenne’s game and I told her how Cheyenne got out a few times at bat but did much better in the field. I also told her how Cheyenne was trying to dive for balls when they were grounders instead of line drives. She wasn’t even close to catching the line drives and she was too soon to stop the ball that was just a grounder. Her timing was off.
“I’m going to have to show her how to do it,” Brooke said, resting her head on my arm as we walked.
“Yeah … Yeah, you are.”
“If I don’t have nerve damage after my surgery.”
“You won’t.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I do. You’re my Superwoman.”
“Well, let’s hope. I just want the tumor out. For it to not be cancer and for me to not be in pain anymore.”
“I want the same, baby.” I kissed the side of her head.
We walked for about thirty minutes, watching people walk along the water and some sitting on benches making out. I hated the distance between us. I didn’t care that we’d only known each other for a short time—sometimes you just know. It took me thirty-one years to find her, but I knew I had, and I’d be damned if God would take her from me.
When it started to get late, we went back to her apartment and showered. I used to shower in the mornings, but since Brooke took hers at night and I wanted to shower with her, I started to do the same. We didn’t take our long shower that consisted of me fucking her against the wall or bending her over to take her from behind. It would be my last night with her for a long time, and I wanted to savor it.
We toweled off and I led her to her bed still naked and took her face in my hands and kissed her as we stood by the edge. Throughout our date, I had stolen kisses, but this was nothing in comparison. The kiss was hot, eager and I didn’t want it to stop. Kissing her was one of my favorite things in the world. Her lips were always soft, tender and tasted like cherry Chapstick.
I licked her bottom lip, moving down her neck and shoulder blade then followed my trail back with kisses. She moaned, running her hands in my hair as her arms wrapped around my neck.
My hands slid down her sides and back up to cup each breast, our mouths kissing again, tasting and sucking. I wanted this time to go slow. I knew she was hurting, but apparently, she didn’t want it to be slow.
She released my hair, turned and pushed me down on the bed. Her tongue ran down my abs and she looked up right before she got to my manhood. I raised an eyebrow at her, but we didn’t speak as she kneeled in front of my bent legs.
Over the years, I’d only wanted women to suck me off because it was easier to fuck them if I wanted to—it was like a game. With Brooke, my dick actually craved her pussy and not her mouth, even though as she grabbed the base of my dick with her tiny hand and licked the underside, my cock responded like your first piece of cake after you’d been dieting for a year. It missed the small, warm, wet, tight hole and twitched with each swipe of her tongue.
I rested my hands behind me on the bed as I watched her swirl her tongue along the tip of my dick and back down the side. Her hand still held my cock up and then as she lowered her hollow cheeks around my shaft, I held my breath. Nothing and I mean nothing compares to watching the love of your life suck you off.
My hips had a mind of their own as they thrust upward, fucking her mouth. I wanted her to be in control, but my hips were greedy. Her mouth and hand worked in unison as she bobbed up and down, her saliva coating my dick and her long brown hair tickling my thighs. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to last, but I didn’t want to come in her mouth—yes, I did—no, I didn’t—fuck! All I knew was it felt fucking good when her lips tightened a little as she sucked. I needed to get it together. I didn’t want to come in her mouth; I wanted to spill my seed in her pussy because that was mine—all mine.
“Baby, I’m going to come soon, and I don’t want to do it in your mouth.” I moved her hair to one of her shoulders.
She looked up at me, her lips wet with saliva and pre-cum. “You can, though.”
“I’ve waited too long to just come in your mouth. I need your pussy.” I smiled.
“Okay.” She stood and switched places with me.
“Is it going to hurt your shoulder if you’re kneeling on the bed?”
“I’m not sure.” She got on all fours on the bed and inched back until her ass was just over the side—the perfect height for my dick to slide in.
I placed kisses along her neck, working my way down— my signature move with her. I wanted to kiss every inch of her and I always started at her neck. When I had kissed down her spine—placing extra kisses on the spot where her tumor was, I gripped her hips and slowly slid my cock inside her pussy. She moaned and tilted her head back as we began to rock in sync.
I slid one of my hands under her belly to caress her breast and pinch her nipple. My free hand massaged her clit. She was dripping; my cock slid in and out effortlessly. We continued in this position, our bodies covered in a slight sheen of sweat, my gaze not leaving our connecting point as I pumped my hips.
I watched as my shaft slid in and almost out of her pussy, her juices slicking my cock and my balls slapping against the bottom of her pussy—it was the perfect view.
Her body began to tighten slightly and I knew she was close. I was, too. I thrust harder, balls slapping, and I squirted my seed deep inside her as her body followed with a shake. She leaned forward on the bed with me on her back as I kissed her bare neck again.
We took another shower and then climbed in the bed with her head on my chest, wearing the smile I fell in love with.
I didn’t sleep the night before my surgery. Easton came to make sure I was okay and to be there for me. He slightly snored beside me as I stared at the ceiling. Every thought was running through my head. What if I didn’t wake up? What if they did have to go through my chest? What if I died on the table? What if I had cancer? What if they couldn’t get the tumor out because of the nerve? What if I was in pain forever?
I think I fell asleep around four in the morning. I had to be at the hospital at seven and therefore only got about two hours of sleep. I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight and honestly, I couldn’t even if I tried.
Nicole and Avery picked us up at my apartment at six-fifteen. It was good that Easton would have someone there with him while I had the surgery. Dr. Bloom estimated it to last about five hours.
Just like the day of my biopsy, no one talked. I mean … this was the day, not just a test. Easton held my hand like he had the time before and instead of not talking and staring out the window, I turned to him and mouthed that I was scared. He unbuckled his seatbelt, slid onto the middle seat, and wrapped me in his arms as he whispered in my ear that everything would be okay. I wanted to believe him, but he wasn’t the one going under the knife.
We arrived at the hospital and I checked in with the appropriate people. After thirty minutes, a nurse came out and said it was my turn. She wouldn’t let anyone back with me so I kissed Easton goodbye and he whispered in my ear that he would be there when I woke up.
Tattooed Dots (The Halo Series Book 1) Page 21