by Selena Kitt
He took a deep breath, hands gripping the wheel so hard every scar on his knuckles showed in stark relief. His gaze scanned the lot, as if the answers he sought might be out there, but they both knew where the truth lay. It was right there, unspoken, between them.
“Is he ours?” he finally choked out, the question ripped from his throat with an effort that showed in the tightness of his jaw and shoulders.
She couldn’t speak. The words dried up on her tongue, even when she opened her mouth to tell him the truth. Beast slowly turned his head to look at her, incredulous, as if he believed she was going to continue the deception.
Finally, Tilly swallowed, feeling tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, unable to stop them now, even if she wanted to.
And she nodded, yes, biting her quivering lip so hard she tasted her own blood.
Then she lowered her head, putting her face in her hands, and sobbed.
Beast was still for a few moments. When he suddenly slammed his hands on the steering wheel, making Tilly jump, she cried out as if he’d hit her. Crouching against the door of the car, she let her grief envelop her. She’d never been so miserable. How had they ended up here?
Beast lowered his head to the steering wheel, quiet. Then he sat up.
“Come on.”
They got out of the car and went into the hospital. Tilly knew her way around much better than Beast—she’d spent too much time there already. They checked at Emergency and found that Liv had already been sent upstairs. ICU. Tilly had been up to the intensive care unit once before, right after her mother’s first exploratory surgery. She knew the way.
It was a long, silent walk, up a swift elevator and down a squeaky, shiny hallway or two, passing nurses, doctors, people in wheelchairs and on stretchers, IV bottles hanging from their beds. They stopped at the information desk and the nurses pointed Tilly to Liv’s room. Dr. Fleming came out just as they reached the door.
“Hello, Mathilda.” Dr. Fleming gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He was her mother’s oncologist—the cancer doctor. She hated when people called her by her full name, but that’s what Liv had called her in his presence. “Your mother’s resting. May I speak with you?”
She reached instinctively for Beast’s hand at the doctor’s words, and he took it, squeezing gently as they followed Dr. Fleming down the hall into a small office.
He motioned them to sit down, and Tilly did—her knees felt too weak to hold her up—but Beast closed the door and leaned against it, crossing his arms.
“Well?” Beast asked, as the doctor took a seat behind the desk.
“To be blunt…” Dr. Fleming reached for a chart, flipping it open and pulling out a piece of paper. Tilly readied herself. “It isn’t good. I have to run some more tests, but she’s jaundiced. I think the cancer has moved to her liver.”
The liver. That was almost as bad as brain or bone, Tilly thought. She looked to Beast, feeling helpless, but his gaze didn’t leave the doctor.
“And she’s got quite a bit of edema.” Dr. Fleming put the paper back and closed the chart. “I’m worried about her kidney function.”
Tilly remembered, that had been the problem after her surgery. Liv’s kidneys had never been strong, and the chemicals in her body now were taxing them to the max. Now her liver? She lowered her head, only half-listening to the exchange between Dr. Fleming and Beast. Something about dialysis and liver transplants. Of course, the latter weren’t performed on cancer patients. Not unless they were extremely wealthy benefactors of the hospital, anyway.
She couldn’t bear to listen. That’s what happened, she realized, when you relied so heavily on denial as a coping mechanism. Once things finally pierced your armor, tore down the walls—they’d been building for months, maybe years—and they flooded in all at once. She felt, in that moment, like she had the very first time she’d ever heard her mother had cancer. Blindsided. Even though she’d known this was coming, had to come, eventually…
“How much time does she have?” Tilly looked up, breaking into the doctor’s conversation with Beast.
“It’s hard to say.” Dr. Fleming shook his head. “Less than she did before.”
“Years, months, weeks?” Beast prompted.
“Weeks.” Dr. Fleming sighed. “A month at the most. And… depending on the numbers that come back from the lab? It may only be days…”
Days.
“I’ll have the nurses call to arrange for hospice care,” he went on, standing up to indicate their conversation was over. What more was there to say?
Tilly stood, wobbly, and Beast caught her elbow. She leaned against his strength, even if it was only a temporary comfort.
“Once we stabilize her, she can come home, Mathilda,” Dr. Fleming told her softly, standing at her other elbow, as if he thought she might collapse. And the way she felt, Tilly thought she just might.
She felt her mouth quiver as she turned to ask him one more hopeful question, “So… there’s really no more chance for a remission now?”
Dr. Fleming had been there from the beginning. He had a sort of calm, masterful way of holding out realistic hope without making false promises, and Tilly admired him for it.
But now he put his hand on Tilly’s shoulder, shook his head slightly, and said, “I’m afraid we’re past that. Hospice will be able to alleviate most of her pain… most of the time.”
The wonders of modern medicine, Tilly thought, as the doctor led them out, going the other way while Beast and Tilly walked down the hall toward Liv’s room.
“I’m afraid to go in there.” Tilly stopped outside the door, hearing Miles giggle from inside the room. That was better than hearing him cry, anyway. Meg must have really pulled quite a few strings to get them to let her bring him into ICU. She felt Beast’s arm go around her shoulder, the gentle squeeze an attempt to give her a little of his strength.
But Tilly felt numb.
Suddenly, her cell phone trilled, indicating she had a voicemail, but she hadn’t heard it ring. She opened her purse and pulled out her phone.
“Who is it?” Beast asked, watching as she opened her voicemail and listened.
It was Frankie. Tilly waved him away, putting a finger in her other ear as she tried to listen. The connection was very bad and Frankie’s voice was going in and out. Plus, she sounded like she was… crying?
“Tilly? Where...” Frankie’s voice trailed off, and she thought she could hear someone sobbing. What in the hell was going on? “Tilly, oh God, no, he’s… help me! Please!”
The call ended.
Tilly put a hand against the wall to steady herself, stumbling, thinking, this day can’t get any fucking worse.
Don’t invite more trouble, Mathilda, said Liv’s voice in her head.
“What is it?” Beast had her by the upper arms, turning her to face him. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Tilly held the phone up to him and it trembled in her hand. How was she even still standing? She wondered. “It’s Frankie. She sounds…”
What? She watched as Beast listened to the call, the look on his face unreadable as he handed her phone back just as his rang.
Beast stepped away, listening—he hadn’t even said “hello” into his phone. He said something, so low she couldn’t hear. Then he turned and walked back to her.
“I have to go.” Beast dug his keys out of his pocket, glancing at Liv’s door. “You get a ride home with Meg and Kate.”
“No.” Tilly grabbed his arm, knowing how desperate she sounded, but she needed him, now more than ever. “Please. Don’t leave.”
She wasn’t thinking clearly, but she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Why, suddenly, did he have to go?
Beast hesitated, looking at her hand on his arm, then meeting her gaze. “I can’t take you with me.”
“With you?” She blinked at him. Nothing made sense. “With you where? Beast, what’s going on?”
“Go be with your mother.” He nodded toward t
he door. “Have Meg drive you home. And stay there. Do you hear me?”
He turned to go, but Tilly went after him.
“Tills.” Beast sighed when she caught up, pulling him back. “Don’t disobey me.”
“Disobey you?” She repeated his words softly, the hours they’d spent together locked in a private room coming back to her with a shiver. But this, wasn’t that. This was entirely different. “If you want me to obey you, sir, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on.”
“That’s not the way it works.” He tilted her chin up, giving a slow, sad shake of his head. “I have to go.”
“I’m going with you.” She refused to let go of his arm, looking up at him, pleading. “Take me. Don’t leave me.”
“Goddamnit,” he swore softly, letting out a pent-up breath.
“I can’t, Beast. I can’t stay here. Not with Meg and… not after…” Her voice cracked and she felt tears threatening again. “Please don’t leave me.”
“You need to do exactly as I say.” There was steel in his voice now. “Do you understand me?”
She nodded. As long as he wasn’t going to leave her, she’d do anything he asked.
“Meet me at the emergency room exit in ten minutes.” He checked his phone for the time and then slid it back into his pocket.
“No,” she protested, shaking her head. “Take me with you now.”
“I have to do something first. Trust me.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’ll be there. Ten minutes.”
He slipped a hand behind her head and kissed her. It was hard and rough and still angry, but there was a little forgiveness in it, too, and that made Tilly’s threatening tears spill onto her cheeks. Beast kissed them both away and then he was gone.
When Tilly pushed open the door to her mother’s room, Miles squealed in delight, coming over to wrap his arms around her waist. She looked down at him, smiling, and was flooded with feeling. She had wondered for years if he might be hers, and when she looked up at Meg, she saw the truth in her aunt’s eyes.
“How is she?” Tilly asked, picking up Miles and kissing his soft cheek.
“They gave her some heavy pain meds,” Kate spoke up, her arm around Meg’s shoulder. Meg looked like she’d been crying. A lot. Tilly could sympathize. “It’ll be hours.”
“We were just getting ready to go,” Meg told her, holding her arms out for Miles as Tilly drew near, and the little boy went into his mother’s arms.
Except she’s not his mother, Tilly thought, looking at the way Miles’s hair curled around his ears, the same way Beast’s used to, before he cut it so damned short.
I’m his mother.
It was a realization that hadn’t had enough time to sink in yet. And if she thought about it too much, especially here, now, she might just break down completely. So she shoved it down, something she was more than accustomed to doing. They’d continue to pretend, and so would she, because that’s what Liv wanted.
Tilly looked at her mother’s sleeping face. Meg had brought Liv’s wig and had situated it, a little crooked, but at least it was on. Tilly went over to her, adjusting it a little. Her mother’s face looked so soft and relaxed when she slept. She used to look like that, Tilly thought, back when Tilly’s stepfather was alive. There’d been a brief time when the four of them had been a happy little family. When Liv had been happy.
Now she looked so thin and pale, with tubes in her arms, another in her nose. A machine next to the bed showed her heart rhythm. Still beating.
“I’m sorry, Mother.” Tilly leaned in and pressed her lips to her mother’s forehead, although she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. Probably just everything—because it all felt like her fault anyway.
“Do you need a ride home?” Kate asked but Tilly shook her head, swiping at her tears.
“I have to go.” Tilly remembered Beast, waiting for her downstairs. And as much as she wanted to scoop Miles up and take him with her, she didn’t think she could bear to ride in a car with the two women the little boy thought of as “Mommy.”
“Bye Tiwwy!” Miles called as she pulled open the door.
“Bye,” she called softly, not looking back.
No one else said anything as Tilly left the room, letting the door shut quietly behind her.
She stood in the corridor for a moment, afraid to leave, afraid to stay.
Then she remembered Beast, waiting for her, and made her way to a descending elevator.
He was waiting in the car, the engine revving, just as he promised. Her body sagged in relief as she slipped into the passenger side, but she hardly had her seatbelt on—in fact, she barely had the door closed—before Beast stepped on the gas and squealed the tires. She flew back against the seat with a gasp, and she looked over at him, realizing he was on the phone.
He nodded, listening intently, as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Right, I got it.” Beast’s voice was clipped and he glanced at her as he turned the corner. “No, I can handle it… I’m calling the shots. Right…”
Beast eased the car onto the highway, not driving quite as fast as he had on the way there, but he was still speeding.
“If you do that, you’re going to fuck it all up,” Beast snapped. “I told you, I can handle it.”
Tilly blinked at him, confused. What in the hell was going on? Beast glanced over at her, frowning.
“Listen, I’m going to call you back in ten minutes.” Beast listened again. “Yeah. Got it. Ten minutes.”
He hung up the phone, slipping it into his pocket. Without taking his eyes off the road and steering the car around a curve, he reached over and opened the glove compartment. Tilly gasped when she saw what was in it.
“This one works just like the one I taught you on.” Beast reached in and pulled out the gun. “Do you remember?”
She nodded, blinking in surprise as he put it in her hands, although she wasn’t sure she did. She remembered the gun he’d taught her on—a baby Glock. 9mm. This one was similar, although bigger. She had small hands and Beast had trained her on a much smaller gun than the one he carried.
“It’s loaded,” he warned. “And racked. Magazine’s full and there’s one in the chamber.”
“Why?” She blinked at him in surprise.
“Why is my gun loaded?” Beast smirked at that, an expression that made her heart flutter, even in the midst of this. Whatever this was…
“No, why… why are you showing it to me?”
“I’m giving it to you. For protection.” Beast swerved around the car in front of them, impatient. “Do you remember what I showed you?”
He couldn’t be serious. She stared at the gun in her hand, trying to remember. He’d taken her to the firing range a lot that summer, but she had to admit, she’d been too distracted by watching him handle his gun to remember much about what he taught her.
“First rule, Tilly.” He reached over, gently pointing the muzzle toward the glove compartment.
“Don’t ever aim at anything you don’t want to shoot,” she replied, her face reddening when she realized she’d been lazily pointing the gun in his general direction.
“Good girl.” He nodded. “What about the trigger?”
“Finger off the trigger and the safety on until you’re ready to pull it.” Her finger wasn’t anywhere near the trigger and the Glock had an internal safety.
“Excellent.” He gave another satisfied nod, glancing in his rearview mirror as he changed lanes. “You remember how to shoot it?”
“I think so…” She nodded. It was slowly coming back to her, although the weight of the weapon in her hand was a little scary. “But… what do I need it for?”
“I hope you don’t have to find out.”
Chapter 16
Beast got a phone call just as they were pulling up the driveway to the house. Tilly listened, trying to figure out what was going on as she slid the gun he’d given her into her purse with a little shudder. Whatever it was, he appare
ntly thought a gun was something she needed to have. That alone scared the hell out of her.
“The merchant docks,” Beast repeated. “Guilford Harbor… right… a cargo ship.”
Beast stopped the car in front of the house and Tilly looked up at it in disbelief. It didn’t even feel like home. It was strange, surreal. She felt like she wasn’t quite all there, a haze filling her mind. She couldn’t concentrate on any one thing too long, and a thousand things went through her mind at once, from Miles to Frankie to her mother lying unconscious in a hospital bed to the freaking gun she’d just put in her purse.