Unveil Me (The Jaded Series Book 3)

by Grayson, Alex

  She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath, she looks up at me and there’s determination written all over her face.

  “Chris—” I begin, but she cuts me off and takes a step back.

  “It’s okay, Jase. Really. I’m fine now. Just please forget it,” she pleads with me, and I hold whatever I was going to say. I’ll keep quiet for now.

  She tries to give me a smile, but fails miserably, “Do you want breakfast?”

  I watch her for a minute, gauging her expression. “No, honey, I’m good. I’m going to jump in the shower, if you’re okay?”

  She nods and takes a deep breath before releasing it.

  “Go. I’m fine here. You’re all sweaty and you stink, sooo…,” she says, with a slight smile.

  I chuckle at her attempt at a joke. I can see her visibly trying to pull herself together. Chris has always been strong. I’ve always admired her for that. Our parents weren’t the best in the world; not the worst by a long shot, but they still could have taken parenting classes.

  As she passes me to walk to the fridge I grab her arm, and she looks up at me.

  “You can talk to me, Chris. I know I haven’t been around much, but I’m here now. Please, come to me if you need me. For anything.” My voice is quiet, but no less meaningful.

  She gives me a bigger smile than the one before, and the anger I felt a few minutes before dissipates some. Whatever was bothering her, she’ll get over it. I can see the resolve, and I feel a sense of pride.

  “Thank you, Jase. I’ve missed you so much. I’m really glad you’re here.

  “I am, too.”

  I lean down and kiss her forehead before releasing her arm. I turn to walk out the kitchen, but she stops me by calling my name. I turn to face her again.

  “I may not be here when you get out of the shower. I’m meeting up with Bailey. We’re going shopping in the next town over.”

  “Okay. You’re on shift at the bar tonight, right?” At her nod, I continue. “I’ll meet back up with you there. Have fun.”

  After another smile, I turn on my heel and make my way to the bathroom.

  My nerves are completely shot, and I want nothing more than to have hot water beating down on my shoulders. I strip down, pull the tie from my hair, and step into the shower, dipping my head under the spray. My wet hair falls forward and hangs around my head in a curtain. Taking a deep breath, I push back the images running through my head, not wanting to think of all the reasons I’m fucked. Now’s not the time to dwell on them.

  I stay in the shower for a good thirty minutes, soaking up the warmth of the water and releasing some of the stress.

  Just as I step out, I hear a banging on the door. Grabbing the towel off the back of the door, I wrap it around my hips before making my way to the living room. When I open the door, I see Andrew on the other side. My initial thought is to yank him forward, but I hold still. My second thought is that it was a mistake opening the door. I know this from the look in his eyes when he sees me standing there in nothing but a towel.

  “Holy mother of all that’s hot,” he breathes, and takes a step forward. “I’ve died and gone to fucking Andrew heaven.”

  I quirk a brow at his reaction, trying to hold back a laugh. He sure has a way with words that makes a guy feel damn good.

  The possessive look in his eyes as he runs them up and down my near-naked body, and the way his breathing has become heavy, has me gritting my teeth. It looks like he’s about to pounce. My dick hardens at the thought.

  I’m at my wit’s end when it comes to him. A man can only take so much from someone like him before he snaps. I’m almost at that point, but I can’t let it happen. At any other time I would take him up on his offer in a heartbeat. Hell, I’d already have him up against a wall, beneath me, behind me, any way I could get him. Denying him feels so wrong on every level, but in order to keep my head, I have to. I need to keep my head in the game. The game of survival. Maybe once all the shit back home is taken care of…

  Andrew takes another step toward me, stalking me, looking at the hand that’s holding the towel around my hips. Every part of me wants to stand still until he reaches me, but I force my legs to move backward. I raise the hand not holding the towel in front of me in an attempt to stop him. If he gets too close, I seriously doubt I’ll be able to hold off.

  “Hey, hey,” I say, and snap my fingers at him, trying to get his attention off my junk. His eyes meet mine. “This isn’t happening.” I gesture between the two of us.

  “The fuck it’s not,” he growls, and comes closer. I nearly groan as a wave of his scent hits me. He’s too close. I need him to stop. I’m on the edge, and it’ll only take a slight push for me to go over.

  “I’m telling you, Andrew, this shit can’t happen right now.”

  “And I’m telling you, baby, that it is. There’s no way you can stand in front of me, wrapped only in a fucking towel, and expect me not to get a taste. I’m not leaving here until I do.”

  I nearly become light-headed at his words. My blood heats and my dick goes from half-mast to hard as fucking titanium in a nanosecond. A shiver races down my spine, and I have to grip the towel tighter.

  He’s only a few feet from me when he stops.

  “Lose the towel,” he grits out, his voice going deeper and his eyes flaring.

  My hand loosens on the towel, my resolve weakening.

  Fuck, but I want him.

  I know damn good and well that it’ll be good between us. It’ll be intense and sexy as fuck. There’s something about him that draws me in, making me want to forget about everything else. I felt it the first time I saw him.

  A jingle sounds in the room and the look in his eyes switches from something carnal to frustration. He yanks his phone from his back pocket and scowls down at it. Once he sees who the caller is, the scowl immediately turns to concern. I wonder at the abrupt change. Shaking my head, I breathe a sigh of relief at the interruption.

  Andrew turns away from me while he answers the call.

  “Hey. Everything okay?” he asks the caller quietly.

  He’s silent for a minute, then his body goes stiff. The hand at his side balls into a fist. All the air leaves the room as I watch Andrew drop his head, his shoulders going up and down as he takes in deep breaths. He looks defeated and it crushes something inside me. Whatever’s being said on the phone is not good news. I don’t like seeing Andrew like this. It’s so unlike his normal magnetic attitude.

  His voice is quiet when he tells the person on the phone, “I’m on my way. Give me about an hour and a half. Take a deep breath and stay calm, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

  He listens to the caller for a second, then says, “I know, Becs. Just hold tight. I’ll be there soon.”

  He disconnects the call and then tips his head back. His eyes are clenched shut. The phone is in a white-knuckled grip, and I don’t see how it’s still intact.

  I take a step forward and place a hand on his shoulder. He jerks at the contact, but doesn’t turn to face me. Whatever news he just got is obviously painful for him. I may not know Andrew that well, but one thing I have learned is not much gets to him. Seeing this beaten-down version of Andrew causes my chest to hurt.

  “Andrew,” I call his name hesitantly, not wanting to startle him. “Everything alright?”

  He whips his body around and the pain I see clear as day in his eyes almost brings me to my knees. They look tortured.

  “I’ve got to go,” he says hoarsely.

  I nod, not sure what to say. Whatever’s bothering him isn’t my business, even if I want it to be.

  His eyes turn fierce again and his voice is stronger when he adds, “But this isn’t over. We will finish it.”

  He doesn’t give me the chance to refute his statement before he turns and practically runs for the door. The sound of the door slamming jars me and I twist my neck, trying to release the tension caused by Andrew’s statement. And then the anguish
written all over his face. Never have I seen eyes that looked so grief stricken.

  I walk to the window just in time to see Andrew get into his car and take off, wheels peeling out on the pavement. I know it’s only a matter of time before I give in to Andrew’s pull.

  Andrew

  I rush into the emergency room and sprint toward the nurse behind the desk. When I’m refused the information of which room Ally is in, I have to force myself not to jump the desk and strangle the nurse. I realize she legally can’t give out any information, but I’m beyond being reasonable. There’s a little girl here who means the world to me, and I have no idea what’s going on. I’m past the point of caring about regulations and legalities.

  Just as I’m about to lay into the damn nurse and tell her to check the chart because my name is on there, I see Becky rushing my way. With a final glare at the bitch behind the counter, I turn just in time for Becky to barrel into my chest.

  Her eyes are swollen and there’s utter devastation written on her face. I clutch her shoulders and peer down at her.

  “Tell me what happened,” I demand in a soft voice, not wanting to make the situation harder on her.

  Sniffing and then taking a deep breath, she rocks my world when she speaks.

  “She passed out in the hallway. She had been looking pale earlier and she threw up a couple times. I was on my way to check on her when I found her. Oh, Andrew.” Fresh tears start gliding down her cheeks. “At first I thought…” She stops herself and buries her head in my chest, shoulders shaking.

  “Shh… I’ve got you.” I rub her back and give her a couple minutes.

  The lump in my throat is tight, and I have to force the tears away. My knees feel weak, but I force them to stay locked in place. The ache in my chest is debilitating. This is so unfair. I not only feel completely helpless, but I am helpless. There’s not a damn thing I can do. But I have to be strong for her. For both Becky and Ally. They need me right now. As much as this crushes me, I can only imagine the pain Becky, and especially Ally, are going through.

  I pull Becky back from my chest and ask her in a gravelly voice, “What have the doctors said?”

  She wipes at her eyes, and I can see her trying to pull herself together.

  “We’re still waiting on a couple more test results to come through. She’s in now getting an ECG done.” She pauses and pulls in a lungful of air. The tears are coming back, and I know what she’s going to say next won’t be good. “They think it’s her heart, Andrew,” she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.

  I jerk at her words and a wave of dizziness hits me. My lungs stop working, and I can’t get enough air in.

  “Wait. What about her heart? Is it bad?” I ask, desperate for her to tell me it’s not.

  “They won’t know the details until after the rest of the tests. What are we going to do, Andrew? I can’t lose her.” Her voice cracks at the end. I put my arms around her and pull her against my chest.

  “We got this. She’s not going anywhere,” I tell her, and hope it’s not a lie. “Where’s Brent?”

  Taking a shaky breath, she leans her head back and looks at me. “He’s on his way. He was about two hours away when I called him. He should be here soon.”

  I nod and take her hand “Come on. Let’s go sit.”

  She lets me pull her over to the waiting area. There are several people in the chairs spread throughout the room. I lead her to the corner where there’s no one. She takes a seat beside me, and I put my arm over her shoulders, pulling her close. She leans her head on my shoulder.

  I can’t imagine how hard it is on Brent. The man adores and worships the ground Becky and Ally walk on. To not be here when they need him must kill him. Unfortunately, his job requires him to travel, and it’s the insurance that’s paying for Ally’s treatments. However, Becky did tell me a while back that if things get worse, Brent’s boss said he’ll station him here for a while so he can be with them. I think what’s happened tonight will classify as bad enough for him to stay in town.

  “When’s Brent’s family getting in?” I ask, trying to draw her into a conversation.

  “Tomorrow afternoon. Ally’s excited about seeing them. I have no idea if we’ll even be home for her to enjoy them.”

  “Let’s wait and see what the doctors say, okay?”

  “Yeah,” she says on a sniffle.

  “How did she take her last treatment?”

  “Not good. It made her more sick than usual. She ran a slight fever the rest of the day. Her hair is coming out in clumps now.” She takes a minute to steady her breathing before continuing, “She finally agreed to shave it off. We had planned on doing it this afternoon.”

  When Becky, Brent, and I sat down with Ally to explain her illness, we told her of some of the side effects that could happen. Hair loss was one of them. We suggested we shave her head before it started falling out, I even offered to shave mine along with her, but she flat-out refused. We knew she’s only six years old, but felt she needed to know what to look for, since it’s her body being affected by this horrible sickness. We left the decision up to her to give her a sense of control.

  “That’s good. Watching it fall out is tough. At least this way, she’ll say when it goes, not the other way around.”

  “Yeah. I just hate to see her like this. I feel so helpless and useless. I feel like I need to do more.” She adjusts in her seat and sits up, causing my arm to drop from her shoulders. Reaching over, she grabs my hand. I can still see the tears in her eyes, but she’s trying to push them away.

  “What you’re doing now is enough, Becs,” I tell her. “Being her mom, loving her, and protecting her the best you can. Being strong when she can’t. Holding her when she feels sick. All of those things are important. Those are things she needs.”

  “Thank you, Andrew. For everything you’ve done for us. For coming today. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”

  I place both my hands on either side of her head and pull it forward until her forehead rests against mine.

  “You know I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I need to be here just as much as you.” Her watery eyes look into mine and she nods. “That little girl in there is part of me as well. I love her and would do anything for her. You know this.”

  She nods again and gives me a half smile. There’s not much to smile at right now, but she knows my words are truth. I would give my life for Ally, no questions asked.

  Our moment is interrupted by the whoosh of metals doors being opened. Becky and I immediately stand. She grabs my hand and we rush over to Dr. Adams, Ally’s oncologist.

  “How is she?” Becky asks, a quiver in her voice.

  “She’s fine, Becky. Resting in a room at the moment,” Dr. Adams says with sympathy in her eyes. “Follow me and we’ll talk in private.”

  The grip Becky has on my hand tightens when she nods. I look over at her and see pain so sharp it also takes my breath away. I feel it, too. The look in Dr. Adams’s eyes isn’t promising. I feel a sharp pain in my chest, and I reach up to rub it.

  We follow Dr. Adams into a private room that has a couch, a couple chairs, and a table. There’s a phone and a box of tissues on the table. The walls are a plain white, with nothing hanging from them. No decorations are to be found. It’s as if they know any decorations used in this room would be a wasted effort. None of it would be appreciated. I hate this room on sight. This is a room that’s heard a lot of bad news. I’m sure the box of tissues is replaced often.

  Becky and I sit on the couch, while the doctor takes a seat across from us. It takes her a minute before she starts talking.

  “It was as I expected. Her heart isn’t taking well to the doxorubicin, the medicine used in her chemotherapy. It’s put stress on her heart that it can’t handle right now. It’s beating too fast. That’s what made her pass out.”

  I hear a strangled sob from beside me, and I use my shaky hand to pick up hers. My heart’s beating a mile a minute.
>
  “What do we do next? Obviously she still needs the chemo for the leukemia, but the medicine isn’t good for her heart,” Becky says.

  “We’ll give her something to bring her heart rate down. Although it’ll put a strain on her heart, I want to up the dosage a bit more for the chemo. It’s important to get her numbers where they should be. The medication for her heart should offset any problems. When we first started this, I had Ally tested to see if she showed any signs she couldn’t handle it. All the results were good. It’s rare that a person has this reaction. We’ll try this new medicine and see how she does with it. We’ll monitor her closely. I’m sending a blood pressure cuff home with you, Becky. I want you to check her blood pressure every six hours and write down the results. I’ll give you a chart that shows what’s acceptable and what’s worrisome. I also want you to bring her in every three days for the next couple of weeks to get an ECG. If all goes well, then we’ll continue with the higher dosage. If her heart continues to be strained, we’ll reassess and see about using a different chemo medicine.”

  I sit there and listen to the doctor’s words, not sure how to take them. She obviously won’t survive if she doesn’t have the chemo. My stomach drops at the thought, and I push it away. However, if she continues with the current chemo treatment, her heart could give out. Either way doesn’t sound good. They’re both life threatening.

  Fuck!

  “What are the chances of the chemo working with a higher dose?” I ask.

  Dr. Adams looks at me and answers.

  “Since we’ve started the higher dosage of doxorubicin, her white blood cell count has lowered, which is good. It means the chemo is working. I believe if we up the dosage a bit more it will lower her numbers quicker. However, it will also kill her bone marrow. That’s where you’ll come in, Andrew.”

  We both nod, accepting her explanation for what it is. Ally and Brent trust this doctor to do what is best for her.

  Becky sits up straighter in her chair and pulls in a deep breath before saying, “Okay. Thank you. Can we see her?