by Red Garnier
But how could he? He was broken and he couldn’t make her right.
Nothing could make Ivy right.
A cramp gathered in his chest at the thought of the ways he’d taken her, the ways he had insulted this disease she was quietly fighting without him. The way Ivy had kept those lovely small breasts concealed from him … and agony and fury unlike any other toppled him over and sent the nausea up his throat.
Had he been her last fucking fling?
What in the hell had he been to her? A fucking joke? A fucking … manwhore ready to fuck her at her whim? Did she think because he was angry … he did not deserve to know? Did she think he did not fucking care that she … that she … had it?
He wanted to be angry. Aneurism-inducing, murderously fucking pissed. But among all the sensations roiling like a tornado inside him, anger was last on the list. He couldn’t forget her face. Couldn’t stop remembering Ivy as she’d been right now, in that small hospital bed, just like Laura. Pale and frail and scared, and feeling very much alone, and his windpipe shut and his eyes blurred and he wanted to rip his chest out.
Ivy, with her little bald head, crying for him not to see her like this. For him to go away.
Ivy, who was always helping people. Ivy, who made Cade want to … live. The hurt spread so deep and so wide, he felt it like a burn spreading up his chest, his throat, to burst into his eyes. He’d known with Laura, even before the wedding. That she was sick, and wouldn’t last.
He’d been “prepared” if that was even possible.
He’d tried to be a good husband. He’d tried to grant her all her wishes, even if he couldn’t ever physically love her the way she’d wanted. He’d punished himself for that flaw for years. But Ivy was spirited and bursting with passion, and she made his body come alive …
He remembered her smile when he’d given her those checks, the way her eyes had shined. Then he remembered how callous and mean he’d been, purposely trying to hurt her, when he told her he didn’t make love to her, he just fucked her. His chest caved when he remembered her last night, curled into that small little ball against him, as though she were trying to disappear inside of him. His heart ached, and he wished he’d had the chance to kiss her breasts and tell her they were so perfect and so pretty.
And now her breasts were being taken away from her …
She was being taken away from him.
He blinked a rush of emotion back from his eyes and bit his fist as he continued blinking fast.
Luke Preston once said billionaires didn’t cry.
But for the second time in his life, this one did.
* * *
Ivy drifted back to consciousness with his face branded in her mind as he’d been when he’d seen her earlier. Her eyes stung remembering, and she wanted to cry all over again, afraid to look down at her chest, afraid to see if they had to take only the lump out, or one breast with it, or both.
She loathed that Cade knew, right now, this second, what they’d been doing to her.
I couldn’t even make love to my own wife.
Oh, God. Her throat shut all over itself. If Cade had loved his wife and hadn’t been able to touch her, how could Ivy ever dream of feeling him wanting to be with her now?
She didn’t know how long she lay there, waiting to know what her future held. If it held chemo, radiation … Cade …
“Miss Summers.” Dr. Sabella came in, his graying hair slicked back, his kind face somehow comforting even though he hadn’t looked at her and was glancing down at his clipboard notes. “You’re likely to experience some pain and tenderness in the areas of incision for a couple of days, for which I will prescribe some painkillers.”
She licked her dry lips and nodded, having trouble forcing words past her throat. “Did you … get it all out?”
“Miss Summers…” He put the clipboard notes aside and lifted his warm brown eyes to her, his expression alarming her. “We couldn’t find it.”
Her heart skipped a beat, then resumed at a frantic pace. “What? Well, where is it?” She mentally panicked. Not even a second had passed, but already her mind had told her a dozen bad things that might have happened. It morphed and went to her lymph nodes. Her blood. It was already in her head. All over her organs.
He squeezed her shoulder, and for the first time, she realized the expression on his face was wonder. “It was gone. The tumor. There’s no trace.”
She blinked, feeling surreal, for in the dozens of scenarios she had gone through in her head before the operation, she had never expected this in any of the outcomes she’d dreamed for herself. She’d stopped believing in miracles when her mother died. And yet, how would you explain her tumor shrinking so totally? Without chemo?
“What have you been doing lately, Miss Summers? Tell me? I’m in awe of this. In my twenty years as a doctor, I’ve seen some marvelous recoveries, but this…?”
“I … well, I’ve taken green shakes every day and read that … graviola drops help reduce cancer naturally … and … I…”
Fell helplessly in love.
Her heart squeezed as she recognized that last.
Yes. She could say it was the graviola drops, and the cruciferous vegetables. She could say it was that her own body’s immune system, which supposedly should have taken care of the cancer in the first place, had finally kicked into overdrive. But then she thought of Cade, who made her feel one with her body again, who made her cherish the responses he could coax from her, who made her happy in her body and no longer betrayed by it … he’d been like a drug. And he’d been better than freaking chemo.
The idea of having a clean slate blossomed in her chest like a lotus flower, but the thought of having lost her chance to make Cade ever care for her quickly weighed her back down. She swallowed hard. “When … can I go home?”
“You’ll be able to go home in a couple of hours, as soon as the anesthesia wears off. I’ll need to see you in two weeks to check your incisions. The stitches are both internal and external and they should fall off once the medical glue does … and I’d like to prescribe an antibiotic to prevent infection just for a couple of days.”
She nodded. “Can I call someone to come get me?”
The nurse—for there was always a nurse hovering behind a doctor—spoke up. “The man is still outside. The one who was here earlier in the morning, Miss Summers.”
Something kicked in her stomach and it wasn’t a baby. Her heart began to drum. “Cade’s here?”
The nurse nodded, but didn’t return Ivy’s smile. “I don’t know his name. But he doesn’t look too good. He’s sitting all by himself at the far end of the waiting room.”
If she could’ve moved, Ivy would’ve jumped off the bed and run to him, that was what hearing that he’d waited outside did to her. She remembered all those times she’d seen him, his big shoulders hunched, his face in his hands, while his wife was dying, and Ivy wanted to weep in both gratitude and apology that he was going through it with her. “Dr. Sabella, can you please tell him I’ll be all right?”
The doctor cocked his head with a happy sparkle in his eye. “I’m glad you realized you shouldn’t go through this alone, Miss Summers. People need support during something like this.”
“I planned to be alone.” Ivy closed her eyes, again, feeling tears. “Apparently he didn’t agree with me.”
When the anesthesia wore off and the doctor left, Ivy begged the nurse to help her get dressed. She’d brought a silk top with three large, easy-to-manage buttons, a slip-on skirt with an elastic waistband, and a wig she’d purchased that matched the color of her hair. She couldn’t afford one made of natural hair, but it would have to do in the meantime.
She slid the wig on her head and tried attaching it with the net, feeling strange and even oddly younger, since the wig had bangs and short hair that curved under her ears.
She honest to God hoped Cade didn’t freak out when he saw her.
Heart pounding a mile a minute as she was transferred to th
e requisite wheelchair, her pulse quieted the moment she was pushed down the hall and she spotted him.
He reclined on a wall near the checkout booth. Arms crossed, his head was bent back and his eyes were closed, but the pose didn’t fool her; his jaw was tightly clenched and she could feel his vigilant energy swirling around him.
She stared at his profile and wondered what he was thinking.
The nurse called his name.
His eyes opened, and he raked a quick, hungry look over Ivy. Not a sexual hunger, but another kind. A soul hunger. A take-no-prisoners black-hole hunger inside his chest.
He didn’t speak to her; he merely began walking as the nurse pushed her chair behind him.
He brought his Bentley to the door and the nurse settled her in the back seat.
He drove her in silence, vibrating and restless. He was shaking violently, like adrenaline was pumping through him with nowhere to go.
She wanted him to hold her so she could turn herself into his neck and fold herself as tiny and small as she could go, until he engulfed her totally.
But his hands rubbed his thighs, clenched the steering wheel, and never once reached out for her. Just like he hadn’t wanted to touch his wife, she would become an object to pity, to admire from afar, no more sexual to him than a piece of paper.
He’d drawn into himself. Even his eyes did not seem to see her when he turned to her, his gaze quickly flicking away, like he couldn’t bear to see her.
Ivy adjusted her wig.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said in a craggy voice.
“I’ll take you to my place. Your place is … I destroyed some things when I heard one of your messages.”
Her stomach clenched, and she played with her wig again. His place. She didn’t want to make anything of it. He should, in all rights, be angry with her, so she just thought this was a Good Samaritan act on his part.
When they arrived, Genghis came out barking.
“Sit the hell down!” His words were brusque and angry. He grabbed Genghis and held him back by the collar, and her skin ached, wanting to be that dog.
Cade hadn’t touched her, not even by accident, not even to help her out of his car, even though he’d held the door open for her. She’d never felt so starved for anyone’s affection.
“Well,” he said. Time stopped when some unmentionable determination settled on his face, and he motioned her to the bed. He paused a hairsbreadth away, and she held her breath, hoping he would close the distance.
She plopped up a pillow gently, because moving her arms hurt her boobs, and then sat back on the side she had used when she’d slept with him.
Because he was ignoring her, she tried to make herself as quiet as possible, sending out some texts that it had all gone well.
She lifted her head when he brought her a tray with water bottles and fruit, his dark head bent, avoiding her gaze as he set them on the nightstand closest to her.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He didn’t reply. He probably didn’t want to hurt her and had nothing good to say. She trembled to be close to him. And he was trembling, too, his hands in fists at his sides.
“I’m going out for a while,” he said gruffly. Her heart sank with dread. She wanted to talk to him, but could see that he was in his man-cave and she’d be talking to a blank wall.
“Okay.” She nodded and stared blankly down at her phone. “Thank you, Cade.”
Her heart almost wilted when he closed the door behind him, and quietly, she stayed there, setting her phone aside and staring up at his ceiling, the ceiling she had stared blindly up at a dozen times as he thrust his powerful body inside of hers.
She felt as unseen and blank as that ceiling to him.
“Come here, Genghis,” she said softly, and he was instantly hopping up on the bed. She curled her fingers into the dog’s hair, and fell asleep on Cade’s pillow, thinking she belonged here.
* * *
Cade called Daniel on his drive to the gym. “Hey, man, I need you to box with me.”
“Now? I’m actually just finishing at the gym, but I’ll wait up for you.”
Cade stormed into the huge building, rented privately for two hours a day just for six of them—a group of billionaires called the Sexy Sixpacks among the gym owners—so they could work the shit out of themselves without having a dozen women ogling, and other dickheads just staring. Graves, Daniel, Luke, Cade, and Andrew, and another billionaire whose name remained anonymous to all.
Today, only Daniel was in the premises as Cade flung his duffel to the floor, yanked off his T-shirt, and shoved his hands into his boxing gloves. Daniel was one of his oldest friends. He was the most centered, focused man Cade knew, and after Luke, the second to get engaged recently.
Cade wished he were the sort of man who could ask for advice from a man like Daniel. But the times when he most needed advice were the times when Cade felt even more withdrawn and reclusive, the words proving too hard to find. And whenever some words did manage to get past the labyrinth of his chest, they only seemed to be curse words to insult and lash out.
But then, he knew his friend would understand what Cade needed right now without even having to say a word. Daniel was already putting on his gloves. He was as tall and broad as Cade, except he was blond rather than dark haired, and since he’d already put in an hour’s workout, he was at a slight disadvantage and was probably going to get his ass kicked.
They jumped into the ring, each on opposite ends, and as soon as they hit the center, Cade landed the first powerful punch and knocked him down to the ground.
Scowling, Daniel spit on the floor and jumped back up, then used one glove to urge Cade back down to the boxing heavy bag. “Work it out first, man, what the hell’s wrong with you? What the hell happened to warm-up?”
“You’re already warm, dickhead, and I feel like getting killed tonight.”
“Shut up and hit that sucker.”
Cade immediately pummeled the hundred-pound heavy bag for a couple of minutes until he was sweating and breathless and his ab muscles were aching. But still, he was tormented. Ivy was going to be okay, the doctor said, but he was so angry he couldn’t calm down, was afraid to believe it, was afraid she was lying to him, still hiding things from him.
“Ivy,” he said after a couple of minutes, panting as he hit the dangling red leather bag again and again.
Daniel watched him with a slight frown. “Luke told us you’re with someone, man. I’m so happy for you, Cade. You deserve it.”
No, he didn’t deserve it. Obviously he didn’t.
He punched the bag, alternating, right hook, left hook, right jab, left jab, then faster, faster, until he sucked in some air and hugged his arms around the bag, closing his eyes as he struggled for breath. “She had … cancer.”
“What? What do you mean? She had cancer? Is it gone now?”
Cade angrily gritted his teeth, pushed back and pounded the heavy sack so hard it started swinging side to side with each punch. “Fucking holy fucking goddamned shit!” He hit it until the blows made every muscle in his body work, made his heart pump, his lungs burst. “Fucking holy fucking goddamned fucking shit, Daniel!”
“Cade, shit man, calm down! We’re all at risk here. Hell, the roof could fall on me any second now and I’d be dead. Come on, man, box with me, I feel like getting my face rearranged.” Daniel hopped back into the ring, and Cade followed him up, tapping his gloves together as they got into their positions.
He swung and missed when Daniel ducked. Daniel landed an uppercut that sent pain up to his brain. God, it felt good. Good.
“Are you afraid it will happen to you all over again? Like with Laura?” Daniel asked.
Cade rubbed his jaw and then got in position. “No, man, this time it feels so much worse.”
He jabbed Daniel’s ribs, then slammed his friend’s jaw with a hook that shot his head sideways. Danny spit out some blood, then straightened, shook his muscles, and positioned
again. “That serious, huh?”
Cade bounced boxer style as his eyebrows drew low over his eyes, keeping his guard up as Daniel swung his way. “We’ve never said it,” Cade growled as he ducked and halted a hit with his right arm, then he squatted and swung back up to slam a good one on Daniel’s jaw again. “We pretend it’s not serious.”
Hell, they said they were playing, but now Cade knew the only one being played had been him.
Cade’s guard faltered as he thought of her in his bed right now, with that strange little wig and her big vulnerable eyes, and Daniel hit him right in the gut. Cade oofed as his breath left him in a single gust.
“You know, Cade, you’re probably working this off at the wrong place, man. Sounds like you just need a bed and your woman in it.”
“I can’t fuck her; she just got out of the hospital!” He was enraged at the suggestion, because his body liked it, instantly warmed to it, but he knew it wasn’t happening soon. Nope. Not for a lot of days. Not for many torturous, tormenting days. He didn’t even know when, damn it.
The thought of not being able to bury all this inside her made him fight with more vigor in his urge to get rid of it, and when Daniel got in a couple of punches, Cade almost growled with pleasure. He didn’t even flinch, his body impenetrable as they started pounding each other hard.
The blows were nothing compared to the painful torment inside him. He bore each hit unflinchingly, welcomed each and every one, wishing they could ease him and the storm that raged inside him now. With enough of them, maybe he could rid his mind of the image of her, in that hospital bed.
He’d lived thirty-five years without her. Thirty-five years.
He never could have imagined he would feel that his world would come crashing down on him if he had to live a single one again—just one—without her.
When they finished, Cade hopped into the showers, the water running down his face. He was afraid of seeing her … afraid of himself, his emotions.
He’d withdrawn himself from Laura. Had it been self-preservation? He didn’t know. But he’d never felt so violent like he did right now. He was afraid of hurting Ivy because, whether she liked it or not, she’d hurt the shit out of him.