I’d hurt her enough to shut down, and that fucking tore me into shreds.
John raised his head, his big paws curling around his coffee cup.
We’d started at sunrise today, thanks to spring arriving overnight with warm air, bright sun, and grass sprouting from the ground at a visible rate.
The farm had woken up from hibernation, demanding to be tended.
“I told you from the start to tell her.” He gnawed on his inner cheek, his wrinkles tightening around his eyes. “She knows something isn’t right.”
“I know.” I sighed heavily.
She’d always been too aware of me. Too smart for her own good.
John smiled sadly. “I know you’re trying to protect her, but you’re only hurting both of you.” His eyes drifted with memories. “I didn’t know Patty was close to leaving me—none of us did. The suddenness was what made it so hard. The fact that we didn’t have time to say goodbye or look for hope or tick off a bucket list. She was here, and then she wasn’t.” He gulped, his knuckles turning white around his coffee mug. “You aren’t going anywhere, Ren. Not for a very long time—”
“You heard what the doctors said, I only have a few—”
“Stop. You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say…you aren’t going anywhere, but we’re realistic to know you have a fight ahead of you, and you need her by your side. We all want to be by your side. Liam, Cassie…”
“I know.” I slugged my coffee in one gulp.
What the hell am I doing?
The distance between me and Della wasn’t worth any price.
I needed to fix this.
I needed to tell her.
Somehow.
I stood from the table. “You’re the best boss in the world, John, but I’m gonna stand you up today.” I coughed a little. “Gotta take a few days off.”
“Told you you didn’t need to work while you’re—”
“I’m not an invalid,” I snapped. “Not yet, anyway. I want to work…just not when I’ve fucked up and need to fix it.”
He chuckled. “Well, I’m docking your pay.”
I smiled at his joke. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Marching to the back door, my legs filled with nervous energy. I’d woken this morning with an itinerary of fertilizing and weed-killing the back pastures. Nothing on that agenda said I’d finally have the guts to tell the love of my life I was dying.
But I couldn’t keep lying anymore.
I had another treatment next week. Depending on how well it went, I’d be tested to see if I’d responded. Either good news or bad…I wanted Della to be there.
“Before you go.” John lugged his bulk from the chair and moved toward the shelf where Patricia had grabbed the sex education book for an eight-year-old Della all those years ago. Pulling an envelope free, he came toward me. “No arguments, Ren. None, you hear me?”
I eyed him. “Depends…what is it?”
“I know you’ve been lucky enough to enter an off-label trial for your age group. But we don’t know how long that’ll last.” Shoving the envelope into my hands, he muttered, “This is for after. Just in case.”
Tearing it open, I didn’t find cash like I had on my first pay packet.
Instead, I found a contract.
A contract written up between Cherry River Farm and me, its employee.
John had found a way to pay for my treatment by legally making me his worker—someone who now paid tax with a notable salary. Someone who could receive healthcare.
My eyes met his. “How many times are you going to meddle in my future, John?”
He chuckled. “As many times as it takes.” Patting my shoulder, he nudged his chin at the door. “Go. Find your girl. Make it right between you.”
“This discussion isn’t over.” I shoved the contract into my back pocket. “I’m not putting you in debt. No matter how you word it in fine print.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go.”
I gave him a final look, amazed that in my short life I’d been victim to the worst of evil and son to the best of them.
Stepping outside, I squinted against the rays of fierce sunshine. Yesterday, it seemed as if winter would never leave, and this morning, spring had well and truly kicked its ass.
I hoped the nice weather stuck around for a while because where we were going, we’d have enough to deal with to worry about snow.
Jogging into the barn, I tried not to get my hopes up that my usual breathlessness was better today. That I hadn’t coughed as much. That the ache had faded somewhat.
I’d had two treatments of Keytruda, and, so far, I was lucky.
Barely any side effects and if possible…already some signs that the experiential immunotherapy was working.
Please, please, God, let it be working.
Tossing the gear we’d need into one backpack, I ensured we had water and snares and my knives were sharp and ready. Slipping on a black jacket that had seen better days, I hoisted the backpack onto my shoulders and made my way over the cobblestones to our one bedroom.