Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
I’m. A. Fucking. Doctor.
And yet, with Lauren, I’m fucking useless.
Hot tears race down my cheeks. It’s the same every night. She goes to bed and I come into the dark kitchen to curse God and the world.
Nothing changes.
My wife still has a worthless goddamn kidney that’s filled with tiny bombs of pain and infection that detonate whenever they fucking please. She lives in constant pain. And to make matters worse, she is on dialysis because her kidneys can’t filter out all the waste like they should. She needs a break.
I shakily pour another shot of whiskey. It doesn’t matter. I can drink all I want because my organs are fucking useless to her. One simple blood test proved I’m not a match. I’d been furious at the hospital when I’d received that news. Ended up having to leave early. I’ve been pissed ever since.
I’m desperate to beg every goddamn person in this town to get tested, but Lauren has been adamant about me staying out of it. Apparently I’m “fucking losing it.” Another hot tear leaks out and before I can swipe it away, skinny arms wrap around my middle, hugging me from behind.
“Are you done?” she asks, her cheek pressed against my back.
“Nope,” I grumble.
“Yeah, you are.”
I don’t argue.
“Daniel, you’re done,” she says, this time more firmly. “You had a week to do…this. Your week is over.”
The anger that has been burning through me simmers. She’s right. I’ve been fucking sulking but to what end? Nothing is solved.
“When are you going to let your dad and brother know?” I ask, my voice husky with emotion.
“Soon. I just wanted to have a handle on my emotions before I told them.”
“Maybe one of them will be a match and—”
“Honey, stop,” she whispers. “I don’t want that pressure on them. On anyone.”
“I feel like you’re giving up,” I accuse, bitterness in my tone.
“No, I’m no longer giving this disease power over my every thought and action. I’m on the transplant list and if anyone wants to get tested to see if they’re a match, then so be it, but I won’t pressure anyone. It’s a big deal.”
I twist around and cradle her cheeks in my palms. “You’re a big deal, angel.” My lips find hers in the dark and I kiss her like she might disappear tomorrow.
“Do you love me?” she asks, knowing full well she owns my heart and soul.
“You know I do.”
“Then promise on us.”
“Lauren…”
“No, do it.”
I grit my teeth. “Promise what?”
“That you’ll stop obsessing over this. That you’ll stop being angry. That you’ll move forward and help me live life to the fullest. Daniel, there are things I still want out of life. And having to worry over you as you drink yourself sick every night and rage with anger is taking up too much of our time—time we could spend on something enjoyable.” She runs her palms up my chest. “Let’s have a cookout. Invite everyone over. Get inflatables for the kids to play in. I want to just be surrounded by family and have fun. Can we do that?”
“We can do whatever makes you happy,” I concede.
“Now we’re talking,” she says in a teasing voice. “Before we plan a killer barbeque, I was hoping you’d take me upstairs and make love to me.”
My hands find her hips, gripping her gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Good enough for my normally reserved husband to fuck me a little wild while the whiskey’s still running hot through his veins.”
“Reserved, huh?” I growl, nipping at her lip.
“Oh yeah,” she taunts. “A real snooze-fest in the bedroom.”
I grab her ass, picking her up, loving the carefree squeal she lets loose. “I better hurry and show you my animal side before I go back to hibernating bear.”
She giggles as I carry her through the house. Her fingers run through my hair, caressing me. I fucking love her so much it hurts sometimes. When we make it to our bedroom, I waste no time stripping her down and laying her down on the bed. As I tear away my own clothes, I keep my gaze fixated on her perfect form. Perfect to me.
In actuality she’s pale and bony. Her stomach is always swollen. Bruises constantly mar her flesh from blood tests. In her forearm, not long after she started dialysis, she was given an arteriovenous fistula—essentially permanent vascular access.
She’s sick.
No denying that.
But she’s also funny and fierce and gorgeous. Even at her worst, she’s the best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“The bear is hungry,” she teases, her eyes alight with mischief.
She’s also tired and weak.
Barely hanging on by a thread.
As much as I want to bury my face between her thighs and drag our lovemaking on for hours, I know better. Tonight is not that night.
“Want a back rub?” I offer as I stroke my dick, staring at her.