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But she was Issy’s not his.

He wanted his brother to be happy. He wanted Caley to be happy.

He just wished it wasn’t his happiness he had to sacrifice.

20

She lay on the bed, feeling a bit nervous.

“How long since your last check-up, baby doll?” Issy asked her. He walked into the bedroom, carrying a black bag. She hadn’t even realized he had that with him. It must have been in the spare bedroom.

“Umm, I guess, maybe since before I left home. So over five years ago?”

He froze then stared down at her with a frown. “You haven’t been to the doctor since then?”

“No. I hardly ever get sick. Just the migraines. And sometimes I get a little light-headed, but I think that’s a low blood sugar thing.”

He grumbled something under his breath.

She was shocked that she’d fallen asleep earlier. She’d felt sure she would lie there, counting sheep. But no, she’d slipped off almost as soon as she’d laid her head down. Then when she’d woken up, Issy had actually let her sit at the dining table to eat before he’d brought her in here for her check-up.

Something she was sooo looking forward to. Not.

“Do you need the potty, baby doll?” he asked as he grabbed a stethoscope out and started breathing on the round, silver end. Obviously warming it up. That was so sweet.

“Ahh, no. I’m all right.”

“Do you have a set of scales?”

“Umm, yes, not sure if they work. They’re in the bathroom cupboard.”

He went and retrieved the scales and then placed them on the wooden floor.

“Okay, they work all right. Let’s get all your clothes off.”

“I have to take my clothes off?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.

“Gonna be hard to give you a proper check-up with your clothes on, baby doll.”

Yes, but, naked? Well, he’d already seen her naked so she guessed she shouldn’t be shy.

“Let’s get you on the scales quickly then underneath the blanket to keep you nice and warm.” He helped her strip off, leaving her panties and T-shirt.

“Let you keep that until you’re nice and warm under the blanket.

She climbed on the scales. Not really watching the number. It had been a while since she’d weighed herself.

“Huh,” she said when she saw the number.

“Huh?

“I haven’t weighed myself since before Dave died. I used to do it once a week, religiously. I’ve lost quite a bit of weight.”

“How much is quite a bit?”

“Umm, thirty pounds.”

“Yeah, thirty pounds is a lot to lose. Back on the bed, let’s get you under the blanket.”


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