"Do you drink it regularly now?"
Jenna shook her head, taking another tentative drink. "It's only good when you have the flu."
Country chuckled. "I think you're the only person who uses Coke as medicine."
Jenna peered up at him through her lashes. "You've got to save it. That's how it works." She took another drink, then held the large cup on the bed next to her like she was cradling a football. "You didn't need to do this."
Country dropped his head, inspecting his hands. "It didn't sit right with me that you had to feel like crap alone."
"You thought it would be more fun to feel like crap together?"
Country breathed a laugh and twisted so they could look at each other. "Yeah. Exactly."
Jenna's stomach folded inside out as she took in his expression. Country's brow was furrowed. The grin she was so used to seeing flickered on his face but didn't take up permanent residence. How was it possible that after all this time, she could still read him like a book?
His eyes dropped. "I'm sorry I left the other night."
Jenna steadied her breath, both relieved and terrified that they were going to pull off the bandages and stare at the wound that, at least for her, was still weeping. "I understand exactly why you did." Hadn't she done the same thing? When faced with that information, she'd gotten out of the vehicle they'd been travelling in together for four years and hitch-hiked home.
"I was angry. I've been angry." Country's skin glowed in the light of the lamp. He ran a hand over his face then dropped his hand to the bed, accidentally landing on her upper thigh. He quickly moved it.
"You had every right to be. Anne and Tina have chastised me so many times for not telling you about my diagnosis." She lifted the cup and took another drink of Coke. "I should've. I thought about it. I even tried to once, but then it had been months, and I was still dealing with everything?—"
"Who did you talk to about it?"
Jenna shrugged. "My parents at first. Then eventually, a few friends. But that's about it. Turner's isn't life-threatening."
Country watched her, his eyes dark pools in the dim light. "It's heavy, though. To make plans and then have them stripped."
Jenna mapped the new lines in his face and the weariness behind his eyes. "I did that to you," she whispered. Heat and ache radiated from her centre—from a place buried deep against her spine that she couldn't reach.
He shook his head. "You weren't the only one."
Jenna seemed to float from her body and glimpse a bird's-eye view of what the last thirteen years had looked like for Country. He’d started off at the Admirals, full of promise and high hopes of being drafted by the Leafs. She didn’t know who or why that story ended, but whatever happened, he’d ended up back here at the ranch instead. Which probably wouldn’t have been awful if his other life plan hadn’t been torn to shreds and thrown in the garbage bin right next to the first one.
They’d both taken big losses. But because she’d run in the opposite direction, they’d had to field the hits alone.
Grief bubbled up from a well so dark and deep, Jenna didn’t know where it began or if it would ever run dry. “Gentry, I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke, and before she could hide her face with her hands, Gentry lifted her cup to the nightstand and laid down next to her, rolling her to the side so he could pull her flush against him.
He curled around her, pulling the sheets and comforter out from under him so every part of her was touching him. Her calves against his shins. The backs of her thighs against the front of his. Her back pressed against his chest. Country laid his head on the pillow next to her and stroked her hair.
Jenna’s tears dampened her pillow as she clung to his arms wrapped around her shoulders and clasped against her chest. She loved him. She’d loved him for so much of her life, there was still a place carved out for him, just waiting to be made whole again. And here he was, filling her up and sealing her edges, and she held on for dear life.
“I wouldn’t have left.” Country’s breath warmed the shell of her ear, and she worked to drag in a full breath.
“I know.”
“That’s why you did it, isn’t it?”
Jenna swallowed hard, lifting a hand to wipe her nose. “It wasn’t all altruistic. I didn’t—” A fresh wave of emotion rolled over her, and she waited for it to pass. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Country’s voice was ragged and raw. “Impossible.”
“If I could—everything would’ve been fine, but my body?—”
Country’s hands released. He trailed his fingers up her arm, curled them around the dip in her waist, then dragged past her hip and settled over the line of her underwear. “Your body is perfect.”
Jenna’s breath fluttered like hummingbird wings. She shifted to her back so she could look at him, and Country’s hand slid under her sweatshirt, resting over her navel. His eyes were dark chocolate pools. “I can’t give you what you want.”
