by Lynda Aicher
She rolled her eyes at the sarcasm and turned away. This she did not need. She yanked the stack of sale signs from under the counter and stalked onto the sales floor. It wouldn’t hurt to put them up a bit early, given the desert landscape of customers.
“Still avoiding then?” Aiden trailed behind her, relentless in his pursuit. “You’re an expert on that, aren’t you? Running.”
“Shut up.” She spun so fast he jerked back to avoid stumbling into her. “You have no room to speak, Mr. Commitment-phobe. I learned from the best.”
His hands went up in defense. “I’m not arguing that. And we’re not talking about me.”
“And we’re not talking about me either.” She whipped back around and stormed down the aisle to the pianos. Seething, she tossed the stack of signs on top of an upright and started folding the tent signs to place on the various pianos. Each vicious swipe of her hand down a seam was a strike at the pile of injustice leveled upon her.
Cancer—swipe.
Pain—swipe.
Meddling family—swipe.
Hurt ex-boyfriend—swipe.
Broken heart—swipe.
Death—swipe.
Her breath hitched on that one, blood freezing in her veins until her hands shook. Goddamn it. She wasn’t ready to die and didn’t want to go through another round of cancer.
“I can’t do it again,” she whispered. Her biggest fear came out on a soft admission and broke down the last of the strength she’d been so desperately clinging to. “I can’t.”
Her first sob was choked behind her hand, her second muffled in Aiden’s shoulder. He wrapped her in his arms, his comforting support destroying the last of her will.
The harsh, bitter tears tore through her throat and shoved her anger out. At life and a God who was supposed to protect her. At finding Henrik then being forced to let him go. At the pain she’d caused her family over and over again. At all the things she was afraid to let herself have because of cancer: love, babies, a family of her own.
All of it gushed out in a storm of destruction contained within her brother’s arms.
“It’s okay, Jacs,” Aiden soothed. “We’re here. We’ll always be here.”
“No.” She shook her 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 you want to know?”
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 e
yes. “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.”
“Doesn’t it?” he challenged, standing. “You just told me as much.”
“When?” she demanded. “I was talking about you guys. Not him.”
Aiden’s smirk said exactly how much he believed her. “It all applies. You think you’re protecting him but you’re only hurting him.”
“How?” she sputtered, too angry to recognize her own denial. “I’m letting him go. He doesn’t need my sickly ass in his life. He’s got his career to think about and a line of women waiting to occupy his time.” She sucked in another deep breath, drowning the jealousy that raged up at the thought of him with any other woman. It didn’t matter what she felt or wanted. “I can’t put my problems on him. My conscience won’t let me.”
“And you don’t think turning him away right now, not being honest with him, isn’t hurting him?”
She studied the floor, the gray industrial carpeting providing little distraction from the clutching stab in her heart. “I know I hurt him,” she admitted, eyes squeezing tight. Blindness didn’t dull the pain at all. “I’m not an uncaring bitch, which is why I’m letting him go now.” She raised her head, eyes opening to nail her brother. “I refuse to trap him in a relationship. He’s too kindhearted to leave me once the cancer’s diagnosed, and I won’t do that to him. It’s worse than trapping him with a baby because in the end he’ll end up with nothing.”
Aiden stepped into her space, eyes narrowed. “One—he’d never think of it as a trap. And two—how do you know the cancer’s back?” His thick swallow gave away the fear he was trying to hide. She saw it though, the edge in his eyes and pinch of his mouth. The same one that’d crept into the faces of her entire family when her second diagnosis had come out.
She touched his arm, empathy flowing for what he was going through too. “I’ve lived through this before.” She hunted up saliva to wet her throat and forced herself to be honest with him. “I know the warning signs. I know what my body is already telling me. I ignored them all, pretended they weren’t there the last time, and it didn’t stop the cancer from coming back.” She slid her hand down to clutch his, her fingers cold in his warm grasp. “I can’t bury my head in the sand this time. I’m too old for that.”
“What if you’re wrong?” He scrambled for alternatives, for logic, when she knew there was none. “What if you’re throwing away a good thing for nothing?”
She forced a weak smile, loving him for his continued belief even though hers was gone. “You just want me to keep Henrik around so you can hang with a professional hockey player.”
His eyes lit up. “That’s a definite perk.”
“Jerk.” She tugged her hand free to punch him.
“Hey.” He ducked away from her barely there hit. “I’m only being honest.”
“Right.” She picked up the dropped sale signs, shuffling them back into a stack before standing. Aiden had gone serious again, his grim expression blending with the sadness lining his eyes.
“I’m here for you. Don’t forget that.”
“I know. That helps.” It really did. The weight wasn’t quite so heavy now that someone shared it with her. The guilt was still there for putting her problems on him, but she couldn’t find it in her to regret telling him everything. “But promise me you won’t say anything to the others.” His instant frown had her rushing to explain. “I don’t want to worry them and ruin tomorrow. The last thing I need is everyone eyeing me with that horrible look of pity and fear. I don’t need that, and neither do Mom and Dad. Next week is soon enough to darken everyone’s world.”
“That’s how you look at it? Darkening our world?”
“Isn’t it? The Grim Reaper strikes again.” She made a swinging motion with her hand. “Ho. Ho. Ho. Happy Holidays and oh, yeah, you have cancer.”
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a long fucking year ahead. Henrik definitely didn’t need to share in that joyfulness. He might not understand or even agree, but breaking up was her gift to him.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Henrik was still holding it together four days later. Hanging on with the same determination that’d gotten him through most of his life. He’d filled his days with hockey and the team he continued to question. He’d blown off Hauke and Rylie with a shrug and grunt they’d thankfully taken. Were their actions based on the respect of a friend or the relief of not having to deal with his shit?
He didn’t know and at this point didn’t care.
The temptation to fill his nights with the easy entertainment offered on the road had been nonexistent. After two nights of little to no sleep, tossing around alone in the foreign hotel beds, he’d broken down and asked for a few sleeping pills to get the rest he needed. Thoughts and dreams of Jacqui were driving him insane.
A quick check of his reflection in the bathroom mirror showed his tie was straight and his grooming efforts passable. He’d bet money his mother wouldn’t agree. He rubbed a palm over his stubbled jaw, half motiva
ted to give in and shave.
No. He yanked his hand away, jaw clenching. He didn’t shave before a game—even for his mother.
Stupid hope had him checking his phone another time—nothing. No calls, texts or emails from Jacqui. Not a complete surprise, but it still fucking hurt. His heart had never been this sore. He shoved his phone in his pocket before he broke down and sent her a text. It wouldn’t fix what was wrong between them, and he refused to add to his misery by waiting for a reply that probably wouldn’t come.
A high wolf-whistle pierced the hallway when he stepped out of his hotel room.
“Who are you trying to impress?” Feeney asked, strolling up in slacks and a button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up. He slung an arm around Henrik’s shoulder. “Chicks won’t be at the Thanksgiving meal.”
Henrik shrugged Feeney’s arm off and straightened his wool dress coat before he pressed the elevator button. “I’m not going to the team meal.”
“What?” Feeney scanned him again. “You got a hot date in town then? Coach gave you leave?”
Henrik snorted. “I wish.” He’d love nothing better than to be celebrating the holiday with Jacqui’s family instead of his own. Second best would’ve been to have her with him at his family’s gathering, the one he was dreading but had to attend.
The elevator opened, three teammates already inside. Great. He should’ve left earlier.
“A little overdressed there, hey, Roller?” Bowser asked as they entered the elevator.
“He says it’s not a date,” Feeney said in a conspiratorial tone.
“Bullshit,” Cutter coughed.
Henrik kept his back to them, the pain in his tight jaw matching the one that ran down the back of his neck to his shoulder blade. Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them…
“Did you fly that girl in for the game?” Bowser said, poking further. “The one from Sunday? Fucking lucky dog.”
His annoyance festered and seethed in his chest, prodding the hurt that’d grown worse since Jacqui’d left him. But Bowser wasn’t asking an abnormal question. Henrik had flown girlfriends in for games before.