“Good! You need to rest. You need to concentrate on yourself and not the club.”
“I am the club!” he yelled. He looked to the door, realizing that someone might hear him and lowered his voice. “The club is my life. This club is all I have left, Hadley. If I tell them… they’ll think I’m weak, they’ll cut me off.”
I groaned in frustration. “No, they won’t. They will help you make it through this.”
“And what if I don’t.” His voice wavered. “What if I don’t make it through this? What if this is it? Do you think I want to spend the next few months, or year or two years sitting on the sidelines? No. If this is all I’ve got left, I want to live. And if they know how sick I am, they won’t let me do that.”
His bottom lip shook. I hated seeing him like this. In so much pain, so upset.
I climbed over the bed, jumping off the other side and wrapping my arms around his waist. “You’re going to be okay,” I whispered softly.
“I just want to keep this life for a little longer before shit turns on its head.”
I nodded against his chest, the leather of his cut feeling rough against my cheek. “I get it.”
“The hormones, they’re the reason I couldn’t…” He cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. “Usually, I’m all over the club girls, but I’ve been avoiding them like the plague. People will start to figure it out eventually.”
He was right.
They were already starting to notice the difference in his sexual escapades. But they weren’t worried. They simply thought he was making a lifestyle change. They thought he had a crush and was focusing his attention on me.
“Just keep busy. We’ll figure it out.”
“You can’t tell anyone, Hadley,” he said quietly.
I sighed, pulling back from his arms. “I won’t tell anyone.” His shoulders relaxed. “But you need to promise me something, too.”
He seemed unsure of my request. “Okay, what?”
“Talk to me,” I said simply. “I’ll go with you to your doctor visits. I’ll listen if you want to talk about how you’re feeling. You’re going to have shit days. If you just want to hang out, lay down. Come to me. I want to help.”
He considered this for a while.
I knew there was no way I was going to convince him to talk to Op. And not only did I not want to betray his trust by going to Optimus myself, but I couldn’t. I’d made a promise to keep shit about the members to myself. Part of being a club girl was not running your mouth. I didn’t want to lose Slider or the club’s trust by going behind his back. Even though in my heart I felt like that would be the right thing to do.
“Okay.” He finally agreed, and I blew out a breath of relief.
If I could keep an eye on him, maybe things would be fine. Maybe he would eventually see that surrounding himself with people who knew his struggle and cared, would lift him up and make him stronger.
I just hoped that we had time to do just that because, at this stage, I was too afraid to ask how far along the cancer had progressed. He still looked like the same Slider. So if I had to take a guess, it was only early stages. But cancer was unpredictable.
It ruined lives.
It broke down families.
But this family was strong. They would help him make it through.
I just hoped he realized that before it was too late.