“I don’t need it. So, I guess I can focus on spoiling the kids rotten, then.” I winked.
“Like my parents aren’t trying to do the same thing,” John muttered. He picked up Beth’s hand and their fingers intertwined like they had been doing that for years.
And it struck me, they had. They’d been in love since middle school. Right about the same time I fled from anything that hinted at love. Of course, with Carl, it wasn’t love. It was obsession…or something more… evil. Definitely not pure like what Beth and John found. I was happy for them, but worried because they’d had it too good.
Love sucked. If this treatment didn’t work, they’d have maybe four months left. And in her condition, Beth was barely able to sit up, let alone be a mother or a wife. She was dying, and while doing so, torturing the man she loved, because he refused to let her do this alone.
That’s not how it was supposed to work. If anyone deserved a happily-ever-after, it was these two.
I shifted, causing another bout of itchy pain to pick up in a new spot.
“Are you okay?”
Lie? Not to Beth. “Your brother’s idea of torture sucks.”
“What did he do?” She struggled to sit up, but John didn’t let her wear herself out, opting to lift her instead.
I laughed, trying to make light of it. “He made me wear a wool corset instead of a bra. Your mom noticed and bitched at him.” I smiled, remembering the moment.
Beth rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Only a few hours more.”
“Yup.”
I settled in for the few minutes of the visit we had left to give my support and imagine my new life. One helping Beth get stronger every day. Where I’d be free of Carl.
But until tonight, I was his. That meant helping him into the car after the donation.
“That fucking hurt,” he complained as I buckled him into the passenger seat.
“You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
He grumbled and shifted positions. “Did you know the needle they use is four inches long?”
Wait a minute… “I thought you were donating stem platelets, not marrow.”
“I was. They showed me the needle for the next step when this fails. I’m not doing it.”
His word choice sucked. When. Not if. And he claimed I was dramatic. “It will all work out. She’ll get better after this donation, and you’ll be spared.”
He stared at me. It was uncomfortable to be scrutinized so viscerally as I drove his car.
“What?”
“I had to sign donation paperwork.”
Obviously.
“They want the marrow from my bones, Rose.”
An itch poked at my spine, and it wasn’t from the hair shirt or the eerily lurid way he said what he said. “Only as a last resort,” I said, hoping to comfort him so he would just drop whatever was gnawing on his mind.
“Our deal is going to change.”
Oh Goddess, not now. Please. But if he was going to renegotiate, so was I. “I’m going to John and Beth’s to help with the children.”
“No. You’re going to stay with me.”
My nostrils flared. I chanced a moment to glance away from the road and meet his eyes with a glare from mine. “No.”
