Brazing (Forged in Fire #2)

by Lila Felix

  Of dying.

  I rarely let this part of me out. I kept it locked up so tightly and securely that I almost forgot it existed.

  Then Bridger found out I was sick. And he didn’t know I was sick before. It was like I had to face this illness for the first time all over again.

  He would have questions, and I would have to answer them. He would have fears and I would have to reassure him.

  Or maybe not.

  Maybe for once in my life, someone would do that for me.

  Sure, my parents and grandparents were amazing when it came to talking to me or listening to my fears and complaints. They were even better at praying for me.

  But I always felt like I needed to be strong for them. They were as afraid as I was. And if I let my courage falter, they would panic.

  I didn’t know what would happen with Bridger, but I couldn’t take it if he panicked. I needed him to be strong. I needed him to pick up where I’d stumbled and carry me the rest of the way.

  Someone needed to, or it didn’t feel like I would make it.

  I lay against his chest, drinking in his warmth and caressing touch. He cradled me so gently, so achingly tender that my heart hadn’t slowed down since he’d crawled into bed with me.

  Which was a good thing, because if my heartbeat had been able to slow down, I definitely would have drifted back asleep.

  He was just that comfortable.

  I could never sleep well in the hospital because of the awkwardness and irritation of the IV. But Bridger made it possible to ignore all that. His body felt right beneath mine.

  I wanted this always. Forever. I never wanted to sleep alone again.

  Even though that wasn’t feasible at this point in our relationship, what with my hospital stay and all, I wanted to move in that direction.

  “I missed you,” I cried lightly against his now-soaked t-shirt. “So much.”

  He made a haunted groaning sound in the back of his throat and carefully pulled me up his chest and closer to him. He basically draped me across the front of him and tucked my head just beneath his chin. His strong arms wrapped around me and held me in place.

  Maybe they held me to earth.

  I seemed to be floating somewhere beyond this corporeal place with him so close.

  “I’m sorry I stayed away so long. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have left you.”

  I lifted my head off his chest. Under normal circumstances, I would have whipped it up and glared down at him, but I had been lacking in the speed department lately.

  I glared down at him anyway. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that needs to apologize.”

  He nodded like that was an acceptable response and I tried to suppress my smile. But failed.

  “So apologize,” he whispered huskily.

  My stomach flipped at his tone and I had to bite my lip to keep from kissing him. Not that I thought he would have minded if I kissed him.

  Mainly, I needed to get this out now before he distracted me with all those kisses and I never said what I needed to.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I was sick, Bridger. I wanted to. I wanted to so many times. I just… I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how you’d react or what you would think of me. I was afraid I’d lose you. And I didn’t want to lose you then and I don’t want to lose you now.”

  His eyebrows furrowed with a muddle of emotion. “You thought I’d leave if I found out?”

  I looked up at the ceiling before steeling my will and meeting his intense gaze once again. “I didn’t know. This is a lot. This is a ton to deal with. And I didn’t know if you couldn’t deal with it after… after you know… your parents. Or there was the alternate option, where you only stayed with me because you felt sorry for me. I couldn’t have faced that either. And we were so good together. We were having so much fun and my feelings had gotten so deep for you, I just didn’t want to ruin that. Plus, I’m really great at denial. When we hung out and you didn’t know about any of this, it almost felt like this didn’t exist. I felt healthy and happy. I could easily forget I was sick again and that I wasn’t through the hells of treatment.”

  “Again?” Bridger’s body tensed underneath me into rigid energy.

  Oh, shit.

  Leave it to him to pinpoint that one small, insignificant word.

  But I was done being afraid. And I was done cowering from the hard things. That was so not who I was.

  I conquered cancer. I lived through extreme poverty. I turned my life around and forced myself to grow up when all I wanted to do was sink into the ugliness deeper and deeper and deeper.

  I’d been through some terrible times, but I’d gotten through them all. And I could share that with Bridger. I wasn’t embarrassed of who I was because I was proud of who I’d become.

  And that was enough for me so it better be enough for him.

  “I should probably start at the beginning,” I whispered.

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  I cleared my throat and adjusted us so that we lay facing each other. The hospital bed was narrow, but our legs intertwined and the rest of our bodies were just inches apart. I looked up into his forest green eyes and let out a slow breath.

  Now or never.

  “After we moved from Constance to Cincinnati, my dad got a better job.” I laughed a little at the memory. “God, we were so poor in Constance. Ohio felt like something special. My family had crawled out of the depths of poverty and we finally seemed able to do more than just survive. We weren’t rich by any means, but middle class sure felt like it. Ohio wasn’t like Constance though. The schools my brother, sister and I went to were huge. My parents live in a suburb of Cincinnati, so it had the big-city-feel. We had a pretty comfortable life for a couple years. I enjoyed the new city and made some friends. I missed Constance, but less and less as the days went by. I went through some rough patches during middle and my early years of high school. I was a little bit of a wild child, but I did a lot of figuring out who I was and who I wanted to be. I had plans to go to college in California. I wanted to be a stylist.” I flushed at the reminder. “It seems superficial now… I mean, I know it’s not. It’s a super cool job. But, you know, just in light of everything.”

  “What happened?” Bridger pressed. “Why did you come here instead?”

  I met his eyes again and pressed on with my story. “My senior year of high school I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. My armpits swelled up pretty bad. I knew there was something wrong with me. Even though they didn’t hurt, I knew they shouldn’t be swollen like that. I mean, it looked like I was hiding two tennis balls in my pits.” He cracked a small smile, but his eyes stayed serious. So serious. “My doctor knew something was wrong right away. He sent me for testing and it wasn’t long before they found the disease. They caught it pretty early, but my senior year was completely consumed with treatments and recovery.

  “I spent the summer catching up with school and then applying to the colleges I could still get into. I was glad to get accepted here because it was so close to Grams and Granddaddy. And my parents were less freaked out about my move out of state because I was in such a close driving distance from Constance. My doctor in Ohio had always been upfront with me that the cancer could come back. She had urged me to get checked out every six months for the first two years. She also told me that the first year is the most critical. If I could make it through the first year, then that would be very good for my chances.

  “But, I didn’t. Um, that’s make it through the first year. Last summer when I went in for my yearly checkup, they found more cancer cells. Same thing. Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. It had come back more aggressively than the first time. My parents urged me to come home and go back to the doctors and facilities that we already knew. But I was stubborn.” He chuckled and I couldn’t help but smile too. He knew me well. “I didn’t want to quit school. I figured I’d already been through all this before, so I knew what to
expect. I also worried that if I took off a semester, that semester would turn into two semesters and pretty soon, I’d be at the welfare office just like my parents when I was younger.”

  “What’s wrong with the welfare office?” Bridger teased me.

  I knew he was joking, but there was something he needed to understand about me. “Bridger, I can’t ever be that person. I don’t blame my parents or fault them in any way. They did the best they could with us and they made a better life for themselves. I’m proud of them. Proud of where we came from and how they worked their asses off to give us a better life. But I can’t be that person. It nearly killed me when I was a child. I won’t go through it again. And I won’t put my family through it. You should know that about me. I’ll work as hard as I have to in order to get food on the table that I paid for myself.”

  He kissed the corner of my mouth and whispered, “I like hearing you talk about the future.”

  I swallowed thickly. I didn’t know if he meant because that meant I didn’t plan on giving up and dying, or if he pictured himself in those words. Either way, I fell infinitely more in love with him at that moment.

  “So anyway,” I went on. “I got sick last summer and my treatments started at the beginning of this semester. This is my second round of treatments. There were still plenty of cancer cells after last round. This one is definitely more aggressive, which is why I’ve been having a harder time and the reason my hair started to fall out. I’m nearly done with treatments, but it will be a little while before they know the results. We are all hoping I won’t need a third round. It would just be really great if I could finally be cancer free after all this.”

  His eyes filled with a depthless love that brought hot tears to my eyes. “It would be great if you were cancer free. Understatement of the century.”

  I smiled at him. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you. I was just so afraid. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of watching you turn back into that person you were after Jesse. Afraid of speaking the words of this sickness and dooming myself. I’m just afraid. I’m more afraid than I have ever been.”

  His face flashed with pain and he pulled me flush against him. His hand went to the back of my head and held it against his heartbeat. His breathing shuddered in his chest and soon I noticed that his t-shirt was completely soaked with my tears.

  He held me like that for a very long time. And I just let him. It felt so good to be wrapped in his muscly arms and against a firm, healthy, capable body that would carry me through anything and protect me from everything.

  I loved this man.

  With every single thing inside me.

  “I’m afraid too,” he admitted.

  I had thought those words would frustrate me. I had imagined myself wanting him to be perfectly strong and brave. I thought I needed him to be emotionless in this. To be a rock when I felt like sifting sand.

  But his honesty soothed me in a way that I didn’t expect. I appreciated that he didn’t lie to himself or to me. He came out with the truth and that took away some of my fear.

  We were both afraid, but we had each other.

  After a few more steadying breaths, he went on, “But I’m not going anywhere, Tate. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I love you more than myself. More than anything in this world. I’m afraid, but I believe in you. I believe you’re strong enough to get through this. I believe you’ll be healthy again. And I believe in a future with us in it. You and me. In a cabin, I plan to build for us in the exact spot I showed you. I got a lot of plans for you, Tatum Makenzie Halloway. And I got a whole lot more bottles to show you.”

  I pressed a kiss against his heart and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for how blessed I’d been in my short life. Yes, I’d been sick. Yes, I’d been through hardships. But I was surrounded by the most amazing people alive. People that loved me. And cared for me.

  My parents. My grandparents. My siblings.

  And this man that stole my breath and made my heart beat like a drum.

  “I would love that,” I told him. “I would love to grow old in that cabin and read every secret message you ever buried.”

  I could feel his smile as he rested it against the top of my head. “No more secrets, Tate.”

  I couldn’t have agreed more. “No more, Bridger. You’re in this with me no matter what happens now. You have to put up with me while I’m sick, unshowered and bald. It’s not exactly promising, but it’s all I can give you right now.”

  It had been a joke, but he was so not having it. “Don’t start with me. I might love your hair, but I love you more. And I think you’re beautiful in every way. No matter how you look or how you smell. I love you more than life, Tate. Do you know what I mean by that?” I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes. I knew he didn’t expect me to answer. And I couldn’t have anyway. I was too busy getting lost and carried away in his beautiful words. “It means that I love you more than this. More than these physical bodies that make us up. I love you through sickness and through health. I will love you with everything I am until my dying breath.” I felt his lips in my hair and decided I didn’t mind being sick so much if I could have Bridger like this.

  “Those sound like marriage vows,” I whispered.

  “Maybe they should be.” His voice was just as quiet.

  “We got a lot to figure out before any of that!” I was almost appalled at how quickly he wanted to jump into marriage. I wanted to be mad at him too! This was exactly what I wanted to avoid when I didn’t tell him about my illness. I didn’t want him to start making rash plans and throwing his life away.

  Only… only with Bridger it suddenly didn’t feel like these were rushed decisions. Instead, it felt like we had been on this path since we were kids. The sickness was an obstacle, but that was it. We didn’t have to be tied down by silly things like chemo or hair loss. We had each other. And we didn’t need much else.

  Bridger’s arm tightened around my waist and he trailed kisses over my forehead. “I’m not worried about figuring it out, Tate. I’m more concerned with making you mine and turning this life I lead by myself into a life I share with you. I love you. I’m not sure there’s anything else.”

  Okay, well, when he talked like that… “I love you too.”

  “Mmm,” he sighed. “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Bridger.”

  “Now say, I won’t ever keep secrets from you again, Bridger.”

  I chuckled but when along with his fun. “I won’t ever keep secrets from you again, Bridger.”

  “Good.” He sounded so gruff that I laughed again. “Now say, Bridger, I’ll get better and marry you.”

  I picked my head up again and my mouth dropped open. “You’re crazy.”

  “Say it.” His eyes were pleading and his hands clutched at me like he was afraid I’d float away any second.

  I could see how terrified he was to lose me. I realized then that was my greatest fear too. I had a lot to be afraid of, but losing Bridger beat everything else.

  “Bridger, I’ll get better and marry you.”

  His face relaxed completely and a smug grin lit his face. He coaxed me back to lie down on his chest and we didn’t talk again.

  Honestly, there wasn’t much else to say at the moment. We both had all the important things in our life and even in this dreary, depressing hospital room, we’d found complete peace and happiness.

  He loved me. He was going to stay with me.

  He wanted to marry me.

  And I couldn’t have asked for more.

  Except maybe some good test results.

  I could still ask for those.

  But either way, I knew Bridger would be with me every step of the way and things weren’t nearly as scary as they were before. In fact, nothing was as scary as before.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Bridger

  A week later, Tate was able to go back home—to her dorm.

  Which was completely unacceptable.

  She’d been
finished the semester just barely but had decided, not without me constantly needling her, to take the next semester. She was very weak, but the doctors were optimistic about her going back into remission.

  In my mind, there was no other choice other than remission.

  There just wasn’t.

  She didn’t know it, but our house was already being built. One two-hour phone call to Stockton, in which I poured my heart out, and the building was already underway. And my brother, as giving as anyone I’d ever known, was funding the entire thing.

  He’d always told us that the money he made from what Dad started belonged to us all.

  And if anyone in this world kept his word, it was Stockton.

  “Is there anything else?” I asked her, looking around the room.

  “I don’t think so. I just need a minute by myself.”

  Since she wasn’t currently a student anymore, we were moving her back to Preacher’s house and I was going back home. It was all against my will. I’d even lined up a house to rent until the cabin was completed, but was she having any of that? No. I walked out of the room with her last bag and a box of books.

  She might be a little frail, but Tate Halloway tore me up for even suggesting that she live with me until the cabin could be built.

  “Really? How do you think that would go over with my grandfather—the preacher!”

  “I’m already staying over here every night anyway.”

  “Sooooo not the same thing.”

  It wasn’t a long conversation.

  I really got in trouble when I started laughing.

  “What are you laughing about?”

  “I just got a little taste of what our fights are gonna be like when we’re married.”

  Then we’d both started laughing.

  I waited in the hallway for her for a few minutes while she said goodbye to everything. She was a sentimental sap. I’d discovered that while packing up her teddy bear from when she was a kid. I loved that about her. And it was especially fitting since I was just as sappy as her—but only with her.