“I’m sick.”
“What?” I whisper. My heart doesn’t just drop from to my feet, it plummets and cracks wide open.
He’s sick? What does that mean? Please, God, don’t let…
“I’m sick. Or rather, I was. Kidney disease. That’s why I couldn’t come to you sooner.”
All I can do is stare at him. My mouth goes dry. Kidney disease? That’s dangerous, right? People die from that every day. My knees go weak. I reach out at the same time Asher wraps his arms around my waist.
“What?” I repeat. “How? When? I don’t understand.”
I pull back slightly and look up at him. He doesn’t look sick. He looks healthy.
“Remember when I would disappear from work for days and weeks at a time?” he asks.
I drop my head as I think back to all the times he was gone. Sometimes it would be days, sometimes a couple weeks. Once he was gone for a whole month. And every time he came back, he looked tired and worn down. He’d had circles under his eyes and his face looked gaunt, like he wasn’t sleeping. I thought it was from working too hard. Each time he was gone, he’d call every day with instructions on what he needed me to do. Even on the phone he sounded tired. Remembering back, when I first started working for him, even then he looked exhausted. Still sexy as hell, but exhausted. Never once did I suspect he was sick.
“Dialysis and treatments. The time I was gone for a month, I had surgery. The doctors were hopeful that they could get my kidneys working properly through dialysis, but there were complications. My blood pressure spiked too high for dialysis and it wasn’t working anyway. My only choice was a kidney transplant.”
My eyes snap down to his stomach. It’s hard to notice because of his ink, but it’s there. A scar about a half foot long. I briefly noticed it the times we had sex. I was curious, but never got the chance to question him on it. I look further down to his upper thigh and see another scar. This one is smaller and just a round circle. For the port, I bet. I don’t know much about kidney disease, but I know they put a tube in the vein for when they need to do dialysis treatments. It stays there until the treatments are over.
I turn lightheaded and my stomach bottoms out. My chest hurts from my heart pounding so hard. My hands tremble as they grip his forearms. Tears warm my skin as they rush down my cheeks.
“Oh, God,” I cry in a ragged whisper.
Asher lifts me and carries me to the bed. He sits and cradles me in his lap. I bury my head as deep as I can get in his neck. We sit quietly with him holding me for several minutes, my cries the only sound in the room.
He was sick, could have died, and I wouldn’t have ever known.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I cry into his neck. “You should have told me. I could have been there for you.”
He pulls back, lifting my head with a finger under my chin until I’m forced to look at him.
“Baby, there was no way I would put you through that. I wasn’t going to have you until I knew I could have you for a lifetime. The doctors weren’t sure if my body would take to the new kidney. I wouldn’t ask you to be mine, only for me to die months later.”
I sob harder at the thought of him dying. I can’t imagine never having felt Asher’s arms around me. It’s inconceivable to comprehend. Never having him look at me with love. Never hearing him say he loves me. Never having the opportunity to get to know him. Never hearing him call me beautiful. Never feeling his lips on mine. Never sleeping in his arms.
“I wasn’t going to come to you until I was whole, until I could give you a life you deserved,” he whispers before leaning down to gently kiss my lips.
“What do…” I swallow the lump in my throat. My voice is thick when I speak again. “What do the doctors say now?”
He smiles. “They are hopeful. My last test results were good.” He turns his head away, and I know he’s hiding something. I turn his head back and make him look at me.
“What else?” I demand.
He clears his throat. “My results are good, but there’s a chance my body could reject it later. There’s no guarantee. Unfortunately, it’s pretty common for people with transplants to have problems later in life.”
My heart cracks, but I hold back the pain. “Then I’ll be there if it does. I know you have a family that must care for you and have been there, but I want to be there too.”
His eyes search mine. I keep my eyes steady, needing him to see how serious I am. This changes everything. What he did was wrong. Spying on me, breaking into my house, manipulating my dates, tracking my car, the video cameras, not telling me he was Sterling. All of it was wrong. But I can understand why he did it. I can’t imagine being in his shoes. He should have come to me sooner instead of doing what he did, but I get it now. It doesn’t make it okay, but it makes it bearable.
And if I’m honest with myself, I had already come to the conclusion that I can’t live without him. I still feel hurt and betrayed, but there’s no way I can keep turning him away.
He pulls me closer to his chest and the next thing I know, I’m being consumed by him. His hands fist my hair as his lips devour mine. Tasting him again after what seems like months makes me dizzy. My hands go to his hair to pull him impossibly closer. Every inch of my skin heats to a fever pitch. He steals my breath and makes it his own, and I do the same to him, both of us using the other’s breaths to breathe.
He groans deep in his throat when I pull back. I turn so I’m straddling his lap. His hardness meets
my already soaked center, and I grind down on him. It’s been so long since I’ve felt him like this.