“Look, you need to go to the doctor and have a glucose test. Has this ever happened before?”
She shook her head.
I glanced down at her stomach. The tank top she’d worn under my sweatshirt was fitted. From what I could tell, her stomach hadn’t gotten bigger than it was a few weeks ago. In fact, it looked a little smaller. I wondered if that meant the fibroids were shrinking. Could they respond to weight loss like the rest of her? It didn’t seem likely.
I wanted to feel her abdomen, see if I could use my medical training to figure out what was wrong. But she never let me touch her stomach.
“When is your surgery scheduled?” I asked.
She took a sip from the soda. “Two weeks ago.”
“When are you going to reschedule it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Not anytime soon. It’s a six- to eight-week recovery. I have nobody to take care of me—”
“I’ll take care of you.”
She pressed her lips into a line. “I need to be with Sloan.”
I sat back in the seat, shutting my eyes. I needed her to fucking take care of herself.
Did what she had going on have to do with her condition? But insulin came from the pancreas. What did uterine tumors have to do with a pancreas? I wondered if whatever caused this had been lurking for some time. If she never let herself get hungry, she’d never get hypoglycemic. She was always really good about eating. She might not have ever let it get to this point before.
“I’m okay,” she said.
I opened my eyes. “No, you’re not. You look sick. You’re pale. Your pulse is weak. You almost passed out back there. You could have had a seizure. What if you had been driving?”
Protectiveness coursed through me. She was mine. I needed to be able to take care of her, and she wouldn’t let me fucking do it. It defied all the laws of nature. It was wrong. We were in love, and I was supposed to be there for her.
She looked down at her burger. “Josh, I’m just a little run-down, okay? I’m sleeping with Sloan in the hospital every night. I’m living off of black coffee and whatever I can shove in my mouth. My OCD is manic—”
“You have OCD?” It didn’t really surprise me. I’d seen a touch of it in her since I’d known her. One of my sisters had it. I knew it when I saw it.
“Usually it’s not this bad, but it gets worse when I’m under stress.” She finished the burger and balled up the paper like it was an effort to even do that. Then she lay back against the headrest and closed her eyes.
She was falling apart. She was deteriorating physically and mentally trying to keep Sloan together. And where the fuck was I in all this?
Failing her.
She wouldn’t ask for my help. I knew her well enough to know this, and I hadn’t even been to the hospital in three days to check in on her. I’d left her on her own with Sloan and Brandon’s family and all the rest of it.
I should have been there. Maybe I could have gotten ahead of this life-support thing. Taken a spot on the overnight shift to be with Sloan so Kristen could get some sleep. Made sure she ate. Talking to me or not, Kristen never turned down food.
I blamed myself for this. But I blamed her too. Because if she had let me, I would have taken care of her. We could have taken care of each other, and neither of us would be in such bad shape.
I reached over and threaded my fingers through hers. She didn’t pull away. She looked too tired to fight me. She squeezed my hand, and the warmth of her touch coursed through me.
“I’ll go to the hospital,” I said. “I’ll talk to his parents, and I’ll stay with Sloan today. I need you to go home and sleep. And tomorrow I want you to go to the doctor. Call to make the appointment tonight because you might have to fast before they do bloodwork.”
She just looked at me, her beautiful face hollow and weary. She was always so strong. It was scary seeing her declining like this.
Love did this to her. Her love of Sloan.
And probably her love of me too.
I knew it wasn’t easy on her. I knew she thought she was doing the right thing. But fuck, if she would just stop. If she would stop, we could both be okay.
She looked at me tiredly. “I bet you wish you would have kicked the tires before falling for this hot mess.” She smiled weakly. “Aren’t you glad I saved you from yourself?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s not how that works, Kristen. Love is for better or worse. It’s always and no matter what. The no-matter-what just happened first for us.”
Her eyes teared up and she pressed her lips together. “I miss you.”
My throat got tight. “Then be with me, Kristen. Right now. We can move in together, today. Sleep in the same bed. Just say okay. That’s all you have to say. Just say okay.”
I wanted it so badly my heart felt like it was screaming. I wanted to shake her, kidnap her and hold her hostage until she stopped this crap.
But she shook her head. “No.”
I let go of her hand and leaned away from her against the door, my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “You’re killing both of us.”
“One day—”
“Stop talking to me about one day.” I turned to her. “I’m never going to feel differently about this.”
She waited a beat. “Neither am I.”
We sat in silence for a moment, and I closed my eyes. I felt her move across the seat, and then her body was pressed against my side. I wrapped an arm around her and let her tuck her head under my chin.
The feel of her was therapeutic. I think it was for both of us. A warm compress for my soul.
I’d never had all of her at once. I’d only ever gotten pieces. Her friendship without her body. Her body without her love. And now her love without any of the rest of it.
But even with what little fragments I’d had, it was enough to tell me I would never stop chasing all of her. Never. Not if I lived to be a hundred. She was it. She just was.
“Kristen, you’re the woman I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with,” I whispered. “I know it in my fucking soul.”
She sniffed. “I know it too, Josh. But that was before.”
“Before what?” I wrapped my arms around her tighter, tears pricking my eyes.
“Before I broke inside. Before my body made me wrong for you. Sometimes soul mates don’t end up together, Josh. They marry other people. They never meet. Or one of them dies.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and felt the lump in my throat get bigger. Just to have her admit it, to have her acknowledge that’s what we were to each other, was the most validating thing she’d ever given me.
“Kristen, I know what I said, that I don’t want to adopt, that I want my own kids and I want a big family. But you make everything different.”
She was quiet for a long time before she answered me. “Josh, if you knew that being with me would take away the one thing I’ve always wanted, would you do it?”
I understood her reasoning. I did. But it didn’t make it easier.
“What if it were me who couldn’t have kids?” I asked. “Would you leave me?”
She sighed. “Josh, it’s different.”
“How? How is it different?”
“Because you’re worth it. You’re worth any flaw you might have. I’m not.”