Dying to Live

Chapter 22

"Oh, I make no promises of behaving myself," he drawled, taking my hand and pulling me on top of him. I squeaked at the sudden and very much unexpected movement. All of a sudden I was straddling his hips and he had his hands up my shirt, unfastening my bra. My hair fell all over him and he was kissing me completely breathless.

He hadn't done that in a while.

"Oh man," I gasped when he released me. His hands were still firm against my breasts and my nipples were perked up in anticipation.

"I still got it?" he smirked.

"Oh, you definitely still got it," I giggled and kissed him again, just for good measure. I ran my hands up his stomach and brushed the scars that twisted and gnawed all along his side. "Oh hey, babe, I have something really, really sexy to tell you," I said suddenly and his mouth formed into a devilish grin.

"Mhm," he urged me on and I leaned close to his ear, my breath soft and warm against his skin. I could feel the goosebumps on his arms and I relished in the power I held over him.

"You need to take your pills," I whispered.

"Oh so hot, I'm so hard, take me now," he audibly groaned and I burst into a fit of giggles as his whole body suddenly deflated underneath me. He gave me a playful shove and I tumbled down onto the rug below. "God, I fucking love you," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I kind of guessed," I grinned.

It took us a bit longer to actually make it back into the kitchen, but we did. He took all of his pills and vitamins. I made him a protein shake and cooked him some eggs. I missed this so much whenever I was at my apartment. I loved waking up with him and spending lazy mornings just hanging out. It was so easy and simple, very domestic. But then sometimes I found that I also liked having my own space.

I just needed to figure things out sometimes, alone, without him there. Sometimes I felt like he needed his space too, time to think about things and allow all of it to sink in. I wondered what it was like for him when he was completely alone. What did he think about?

What was he keeping secret from me?

That was still weighing so heavily on my mind. So I let myself agonize over it some more as he went upstairs to shower after breakfast. I thought about the absolute worst case scenarios first. His cancer was spreading faster than expected. The chemo wasn't working. OK, now I was even more worried than before. Thanks a lot, brain. I sat down on the floor with Joplin and scratched her belly while I contemplated the positives. The chemo was actually working better than they'd thought. His cancer was under control for the moment. He was looking at clinical trials.

I was well aware that right now there wasn't anything they could do. His cancer was far too aggressive and far too advanced for any trials to accept him. But what if there was something new? What if we still had some hope to cling onto?

OK, so I didn't really feel any better now that I'd let myself think about it.

But what if it had nothing to do with the cancer at all? That wasn't all he had on his mind, surely. He could be planning a surprise getaway, maybe to Washington or North Carolina. That seemed pretty plausible.

I was thinking about how much time off I could take from the hospital this summer for some traveling when he came back downstairs, freshly washed and dressed in jeans and a nice gray t-shirt. He had a baseball cap on his head. At a glance, he just looked like a thin, 6'7" guy about to go out to enjoy the day. He didn't look sick. He didn't look like he was dying.