I got very attached. And then wheneverything inevitably went wrong? I stayed attached.
So, Killian Quinn needed to stop ormove on or do anything but flirt with me.
I wasn’t going to fall for this guy—thisman that was everything I didn’t want. I’d sworn to let my heart heal, to givemyself a break from toxic relationships and bad decisions.
But beyond that, even when I putmyself back on the market or whatever, Killian still wouldn’t be my type. I’dalready dated the egomaniac. I’d already had a relationship with the famousexecutive chef. I’d already given up my dreams so someone else could pursuetheirs.
And I’d lost everything in theprocess.
I didn’t want a guy like KillianQuinn.
I wanted the exact opposite.
Chapter Fourteen
“Are you comfortable, Mr.Delane?”
Dad eyed the young nurse with oneeye open and one sleepily shut. “Fine for now. Thanks, Leanne.”
She smiled at him, patted hisshoulder and left the private chemotherapy room.
“You could have been a nurse,” hesaid to me once we were alone again and his eyes were both firmly closed.
I stared at him, taking in thesmooth recliner Leanne had set him up in. He was attached to an IV pumping himfull of drugs, both toxic and necessary to his survival. He’d lost weight overthe last couple of months, but not his hair. He’d lost that a long time ago.And somehow he was holding onto his eyebrows and lashes.
He looked fragile in his chair,sicker than he should be. I wanted to drag him back to the car and drive awayfrom here as fast as I could. He didn’t belong here. This place was for dyingpeople. Sick people. And even though I knew my dad was both of those things, I refusedto come to terms with them.
“Why?” I responded to his last comment.“Because I’m so nurturing?” I tapped my fingers on the back of his arm to provemy point. Dad hadn’t wanted me to come today. He didn’t want me to remember himlike this, “strapped to a chair with tubes sticking out of me every which way.”But I’d insisted. I was a coward in a lot of ways, but this wasn’t one of them.
Not when it came to my dad.
He peeled one eye open again. “Well,yes. You’ve always been so quick to help others. Heal those that needed to behealed. Save those that needed saving.” He smiled softly, finally giving intothe conversation and opening both eyes. “Remember when Vann got mono? I wouldhave accidentally killed the boy had it not been for you.”
I smiled too. He wasn’t lying. Vannhad been sick for over a week before my dad had taken him to the doctor. And itwas only after I’d logged his symptoms and convinced them both that Vann wasn’tgetting better. Then I’d missed three days of school to take care of my olderbrother so Dad could work.
I’d been fourteen at the time. Eventhen I knew that Dad hadn’t been neglecting Vann. He couldn’t stand thesickness, watching someone else suffer. Vann was just like him.
That left me. I wasn’t nurturingbecause I wanted to be. I learned to be nurturing because I had to be.
“Well, I’m amazing, what can I say?”
His mouth quirked up in a tiredsmile. “That you are, baby girl.”
I rubbed my hands over my thighs,then tucked my feet into my gray maxi skirt. The chemo center was freezingcompared to the brutal heat outside. I’d dressed to spend the morning with Dadand the afternoon in my truck, prepping for tonight, but my scoop neck blacktee wasn’t cutting it. “So, other than being nurturing, why else should I havebeen?”
He settled back in his chair,adjusting until he was comfortable. For a minute, I didn’t think he was goingto answer me. And when he did, it was not the answer I expected. “It’s a stablejob, Vera. You wouldn’t have to stress like you do.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, Ileaned back in my chair, mimicking his position, but not on purpose. I tried tosmile, but it was wobbly and weak. “I’m pretty sure nurses get stressed outtoo. Especially dealing with difficult patients like you.” I took a deepbreath, sensing he needed reassurance over sass. Gentling my tone, but addingsteel, I promised, “I love what I do, Dad. I love cooking.”
He made a sound in the back of histhroat that made me feel like he didn’t believe me. “I worry about you. I worryabout what will happen to you when I’m gone.”
“So don’t go anywhere,” I dared himstubbornly.
He shook his head and looked at meonce again. “I’m doing my best here.”
Breath whooshed out of me, emptyingmy chest with a defeated sigh. “I know.” I cleared my throat and tried to takeaway some of the heaviness of the conversation. “The food truck is doing fine, oldman. I’m figuring it out.”
His mouth pressed into a hard frown.Apparently, that wasn’t enough to erase his fears. “The food truck was neverwhat you wanted, kiddo. What happened to working in a restaurant? You spent allyour money in Europe and came back with funny ideas.”
