“Promise me you won’t yell at her for this when she comes around.”
He turned and glared at Cres. “Why the fuck would you even say that to me?”
“For that reason right there. You get angry first and maybe you’ll try reasonable later. I’m askin’ you not to do that this time. There’s a reason she kept this from you. If you want to understand why, don’t scare her off with your blustering and accusations.” He softened his tone. “I know you care about her. And I know she’s crazy about you. So don’t wreck this. Just…tread lightly okay?”
Mick jogged back into the room. He held up a kit. “She’s got one.”
“You know what to do?”
“Yeah. You gotta move, man,” Mick said to him. “Oh, and I found her medic alert bracelet. She is diabetic. Type 1. She’s insulin dependent.”
Wyn was absolutely poleaxed. This woman that he’d bared his soul to, opened his home to, made love to and had fallen for…hadn’t trusted him enough to share this with him.
“This will help her out a lot,” Mick said.
“Should I call and cancel the ambulance?” Wyn asked.
“No. The paramedics will need to assess her. They might even take her to the hospital since it sounds like she might’ve had a seizure.”
Seizure. That word twisted his guts into a knot. He couldn’t watch as Mick…did whatever he did, because Wyn would be tempted to ask a million questions. The time for questions would come later.
Time passed in an endless void as he paced.
Finally, he heard Mick say, “No, Mel, don’t try and sit up.”
Melissa said something too low for Wyn to hear. But Mick’s response was loud and clear. “Yes, he’s here.”
She was asking for him?
Wyn crossed the room and stood behind Mick. A sick feeling twisted his stomach again. Until he heard her whisper…
“Tell him I love him.”
Say what?
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that.” Mick sent Wyn an apologetic look. “She’s babbling.”
But I want her to mean it.
Mick kept up a running dialogue, if only to keep Melissa from talking. “It’s only been twenty minutes since we left. We had to turn around because Cres left the paperwork and his wallet in the tack room.”
“Wyn?”
What the hell? She never called him Wyn. She always called him by his full name. It appeared she didn’t know what she was saying. “Yeah, baby, I’m here.”
Melissa’s skin was blotchy, red in spots, pasty white in others. Her eyes were vacant. But when she saw him? Her eyes held fear. And then a film of tears. Her lips started to wobble after she mouthed “sorry” and then she turned her head into the couch cushion, away from him.
The fuck that was happening. She was goddamn done hiding anything from him. Wyn stepped in front of Mick and braced his hand on the wall above the back of the couch, so he loomed above her. He reached down and gently turned her face toward him. “Kentucky, look at me.”
“Wyn,” Cres warned.
“Butt out, bro. This is between me and my woman.”
That got Melissa’s eyes to open again.
He stroked his thumb over her cheek. “There she is, my beautiful, stubborn filly. Fair warning, darlin’. After the EMTs get here and tell me what steps I need to take to get you back to normal, you and me are gonna have a serious talk.”
“You’re mad at me,” she choked out.
“No, I’m scared for you. Big difference. Now I’m gonna let Mick do his thing. I just wanted you to know I’m here and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Her eyes teared up again and she nodded before she closed her eyes.
The paramedics arrived.
Wyn hung on the periphery and tried to decipher what they were saying as they spoke to her and Mick. Even when he knew it was ridiculous, he had a flash of annoyance that the EMTs were talking to Mick about Melissa’s condition when they should’ve been talking to him. He should know this stuff. Every single bit of it. He vowed he’d never be kept out of the loop again when it came to Melissa’s health issues. He’d read everything he could get his hands on so he knew exactly how to help her. And figure out how to prevent this from ever happening again.
The female EMT finally took Wyn aside. “We’re not admitting her to the hospital as long as you’re comfortable keeping a very close eye on her the next twenty-four hours.”
“Absolutely.”
“Mick indicated that you weren’t aware she was diabetic.”
“No, but I can promise you I’ll be up to speed on everything about this in the next few hours.”
“There’s tons of information online—most of it is excellent. Thankfully she had an emergency kit. You’d be surprised how many diabetics aren’t so well-prepared. Anyway, she said she took her dose of insulin this morning, so this…episode isn’t due to negligence—aka ‘forgetting’ to inject herself. It sounds like she overexerted herself the past few days.”
Wyn experienced a punch of guilt over that. He had been working her hard. “The tablet she had in her hand. Is that part of her daily medication?”
“No, it’s supposed to be a quick fix when she feels the effects of low blood sugar. That’s just one of many choices to get her glycemic index back in balance. She can fill you in on what foods/drinks/snacks usually work best for her when her body tells her she’s hypoglycemic.”
He should be recording this conversation—all the words were jumbling together.
“As soon as she’s feeling up to it, she needs to eat. She’ll need to check her blood sugar levels more often. And if rest, liquids, and food don’t get her levels back down into the normal range? Bring her to the ER.”
“I will.”
She patted his shoulder. “I know you will.”
Wyn shot a quick glance over his shoulder. “Can I ask…have you seen this before?”
“What? A diabetic starting to go into diabetic shock?”
“No, people close to the patient bein’ in the dark about their condition.”
She looked thoughtful. “For some people, talking about having diabetes is an embarrassment because of all the misinformation and misperceptions about it, so it’s easier to keep it under wraps. I had a friend in high school that went to great lengths to hide it because she didn’t want our classmates or teachers to treat her differently or feel sorry for her. Even at age seventeen, she worried that she’d never find love because it would be daunting for a guy to take on a woman with a chronic illness. Maybe that sounds stupid to us, but the truth is, we don’t have to be vigilant about food intake, watch physical activity, take insulin shots, do blood sugar monitoring that the people who have this disease have to deal with every day. And like it or not, type 1 diabetes is an incurable disease. That’s not to say it’s not manageable, but it is a lifelong condition.” She paused. “Did that answer your question?”
“Yes. More than you know. Thank you.”
By the time the EMTs left, Melissa was sitting up.
Cres and Mick waited in the kitchen. That’s where he went first.
“I know you’ve gotta take off, and this is one time, baby bro, that I won’t chew your ass for forgetting paperwork. I’m thankful that you were here, Mick.”
“Glad to help. But you need to get to the bottom of why she kept this from you. Show her you’re a standup guy, Wyn. Maybe she’s never had anyone show her how to stand your ground when the going gets tough.”
“I hear ya.”
Cres clapped him on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow. You need anything, call or text.”
Wyn followed them out and watched the cattle truck drive away for the second time. Then he went back inside to deal with his woman.
Melissa looked so…frail sitting on his couch with an afghan draped over her.
He crouched in front of her. “You feel like eating anything yet?”
“No. The beef jerky and orange juice will hold me over for a bit.”
/> “Good. You ready to get some rest?”
“I thought I’d stretch out on the couch.”
He stood. “You thought wrong.” He scooped her into his arms. “Hang on.”
She didn’t speak until she noticed they weren’t going in the direction of her room. “Wynton?”
“From here on out, you’re sleepin’ with me.”
“But all my stuff—”
“Will be moved into my room.” He set her on the bed and pulled the afghan away. “In my bed is where you should’ve been all along and you damn well know it.”
Melissa didn’t argue.
“Now, do you need me to help you take your clothes off? Or do you wanna do it?”
“Stop it,” she snapped. “I don’t want you to baby me.”
Wyn got right in her face. “Tough shit. I want to take care of you and you’ll let me, understand? ” He exhaled a slow breath. “I need to do this as much as you need to let me do it.”
She reached up and touched his face. “Okay. But no funny business when you help me take my clothes off. I don’t have the energy for it.”
Do not snap at her for believing you’re such a sex fiend that you’d take advantage of her after she had a diabetic episode.
“God, I’m sorry for saying that. I was trying to make light of the situation and it didn’t come out that way.”
Wyn kissed the inside of her wrist. “You and me are gonna have to come up with a whole new way to communicate, Kentucky.”
“Agreed.”
He popped the buttons on her pearl snap shirt and tugged it off. He pulled her T-shirt over her head, glad to see she’d taken his advice to dress in layers. He unhooked her bra. He forced himself not to focus on how quickly her nipples puckered into tight points.
“Are you stripping me down completely?”
“Yeah.”
“What if I get cold?”
“I’ll keep you warm. Stand.” He dropped to his knees and undid her belt, then her jeans. He peeled the denim down her thighs and held onto her arm as she kicked them aside. He pressed a soft kiss to her belly as he pulled off her panties. Then he wrapped his arms around her, breathed her in and released all the tension he’d carried in the past hour and a half. She was all right. Soft and warm and in his room, with him, where she belonged.
“Wynton.”
“Give me a sec.”
Melissa sifted her fingers through his hair. “I’m okay.”
“You scared me.”
“I scared myself.” She clamped her hands around his jaw and tilted his head back. “I’m sorry I scared you. And we’ll talk about everything after I’ve had some time to recover. But for right now, can I please get under the covers? I’m freezing my ass off.”
He smiled against her stomach.
When he reached down to remove her socks and she said, “Huh-uh, cowboy. I’ll let you strip me naked, but one of the fun side effects of diabetes is my feet are always cold, so the socks stay on.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Wyn rolled back the bedding. Then he stood and shed his clothes.
From beneath the covers, Melissa stared at his crotch and said, “You’re hard.”
“Seein’ you naked does that to me. It’ll behave, I promise.”
“You sound like it has a mind of its own.”
Wyn slipped in next to her. “Sometimes, I swear it does.” He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her in his arms. A sense of peace settled over him as he drifted off.
“Wynton?” she murmured.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I never want to sleep away from you again.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Same here.”
Chapter Ten
When Mel woke up, she had that same panicked sense of disorientation as she did when she came to on the couch in the living room.
“It’s okay. You’re still in my bed.”
She shifted toward his voice and noticed he was propped up against the headboard, a laptop open on top of a pillow. “Surfing porn sites while I sleep, Super Man-Slut?”
He grinned. “Dammit. Why didn’t I think of usin’ the Internet to find porn sites? I’m usin’ it for pesky research.”
Her chest tightened. “What kind of research?”
“Small engine repair for this motor I plan to rebuild.”
“Really?”
Wynton rolled his eyes. “No, not really. I’m finding out everything I need to know about type 1 diabetes. You got a problem with that?”
“No.” She flopped back into the pillows. “I’d tell you that you could ask me anything you wanted to know, but that’s sort of the whole point, isn’t it? I didn’t do that.”
“Yeah.” He set her blood glucose meter on her chest. “And so the fun begins. It’s been two hours, so time to check those levels again.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want to watch?”
“I need to watch so I know how to do it if I ever have to. I also want to watch so I know what you deal with every day. How it’s part of your routine.”
Stupid, sweet man. Now he was gonna make her cry. “I need the box of glucose test strips, the box of lancets, and the alcohol swabs.” She went through the process, poking herself, putting the drop of blood on the glucose test strip, putting the strip in the meter and showing him where the results appeared and explaining what the number meant.
“Wait, I know what that number means. You’re still on the low end, so you need to eat or drink something to boost your count and then retest in fifteen minutes.”
“Wow. You are a quick study.”
Wynton stroked her cheek. “I am when it matters to me.”
He definitely was testing her tear threshold.
“Do you want juice? Or raisins? Or honey? Or regular soda? Or a glucose tablet?”
“Juice would be great.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead before he popped out of bed. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” The man hustled out and he didn’t bother to put on pants.
She loved that about him.
She loved everything about him.
An odd sense of…déjà vu niggled in the back of her mind.
Tell him I love him.
The few times she’d gotten to the point she had today, she’d heard from others she’d been spectacularly nasty. She’d also heard of instances where a person blurted out secrets with no recollection of it. So had she confessed her feelings for him? To him?
Given how unbelievably close they’d gotten in the last three weeks, it wasn’t a surprise that she’d fallen head over heels in love with Wynton Grant. The man was beyond amazing. But she hadn’t wanted him to find out that way, when she wasn’t even aware of what she was saying.
But on the other hand, it would be weird if she asked him if she’d confessed her love for him. Hey, sexy rancher man, I’m not sure if you caught it before because I’m not even sure that I said it, but I love the fuck out of you.
Ugh. No. That would not be cool.
Wynton returned with a tray. He set it on the dresser and handed her a glass of juice.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll just…” He blew out a breath. “I don’t know what the fuck to do. I have so damned many questions but I don’t want to bombard you.”
Mel sipped the cranberry juice. “Bombard away.”
“How long have you had diabetes?”
“Six and a half months.”
That surprised him.
“Yeah, it’s a new thing to me too. Several months before I was diagnosed I had all the classic symptoms—excessive thirst, weight loss, irritability, no appetite. I chalked it up to the end of the season stress. Then I blacked out, much like I did here today. It scared me and I went to the ER. They ran tests. The results surprised the medical staff as much as it did me because at my age it’s almost always a diagnosis of type 2 diabetes, not type 1. So I spent two weeks learning that burying my head in the sand and pretending it would go away isn’t
the best way to deal with it.”
“What happened before?”
She took another swig of juice. “I was lethargic but I competed anyway. I did great in the first go. I did fine in the team penning round. But I was the next to last competitor of the day in the cutting competition and I almost passed out. Hearing people describe the run, they said I sat atop Plato as if I’d been hypnotized.”
Wynton brushed her hair out of her face. “Is that how you remembered it?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t remember anything at all. Not dealing with my horse or even getting back to my horse trailer. I woke up the next morning and it was a worse feeling than a blackout drunk.”
He kissed her forehead. “Keep goin’.”
“That’s when I went to the ER. After my diabetes crash course, I took Plato back to Gradsky’s because I knew I had to give up competing. I blurted out everything to Berlin. She swore she’d keep it between us. But she insisted I stick around there until I got a better handle on how to live with diabetes and what was next in my life. I avoided everyone in the world of rodeo. I even avoided London when she came home.”
“So that’s what Breck meant when he said you were—”
“All plumped up again? Yes. I’d lost thirty pounds over the course of three months, so I probably did look anorexic.”
“Still makes him a fuckin’ ass for sayin’ that shit to you.” He absentmindedly stroked her arm. “So you’ve been hiding?”
“Pretty much.”
“You don’t gotta hide from me.”
Please don’t ask me right now why I didn’t tell you. Because you’re not running scared after finding out makes me hope this isn’t the end. She pointed to the tray. “Could I get some beef jerky and one of those hard candies?”
“You bet.”
“You really did do your homework.”
“Like I said, I pay attention when it matters.” Wynton pinned her with a look. “And in case that ain’t plain enough for you, I’ll repeat it. You matter to me, Melissa Lockhart. A whole heckuva lot.”
She burst into tears.
Wynton thought he’d said the wrong thing, and Mel tried to get him to quit backtracking, at least until she got control of her emotions.
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