Wicked Beat

Jon climbed to his feet. “I’ll give you a call once I’m sure this therapy is going to stick. I really want to succeed this time. I’m finished with that shit.”

“You better. I have some songs written that are amazing, but not Sinners’ style. I’d love to get them in front of an audience. I’m counting on you to make that happen.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “You don’t need me, Eric. You could put your own band together in ten seconds. Any musician in his right mind would give his left nut to perform with you.”

“But I’m counting on you.” Eric shoved Jon toward the porch steps. “Get now. I need to chase off the rest of my guests so I can have time alone with my woman.”

“She’s good for you.”

Eric smiled. “You don’t have to state the obvious.”

Jon trotted down the steps and then turned to look at him. “Thanks.” He didn’t need to say more. Eric understood. “Happy birthday.”

When Eric let himself back in the house, Rebekah was waiting in the foyer. “How did it go?”

Eric nodded. “I think he’s actually going to get his life back together.”

She reached up and cupped his face. “And I suppose you’re going to help him with that.”

“Nope. Just gave him a little incentive. My part in his recovery is entirely hands-off.”

“Good,” she said, “because I think it’s about time you put your hands on me.”

“I think it’s past time for that.”

Chapter 34

Rebekah didn’t know what was worse, the actual MRI or waiting for the results. She and Eric played a word game against each other on their phones while she waited to be called to see her doctor. She was glad Eric was there to help her pass the time. Her stomach was in knots.

When they called her in, she left Eric in the waiting room. If it was bad news, she didn’t want him to see her fall apart. She’d have a few minutes to pull herself together before she had to tell him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” he asked, clinging to her fingers with one hand.

“I’ll only be a minute.” She kissed his cheek and followed the nurse to Dr. Palmer’s office.

The moment she entered the room, she knew it would not be good news. Dr. Palmer had two expressions. I’m on top of the world. You’re going to die. He was wearing his solemn look at the moment.

“Have a seat, Miss Blake.”

She sat, or more collapsed. Her legs were like wet noodles.

“Your blood work looks great. CEA levels normal,” he said, but he didn’t offer a smile of encouragement. “The MRI…”

Oh God, please don’t say it. Please.

“There is a suspicious spot in your pelvic cavity.”

Fuck. He said it.

“I want to do an immediate biopsy to take a look. It might be an artifact or excess scar tissue or—it might be a relapse of cancer.”

Unable to speak, she lowered her eyes and nodded slightly.

“They’re prepping a room for you upstairs. If it is cancer, the faster we get you on chemo, the better our chances of beating it again.”

But if it was back, they hadn’t beat it. Not really. “I feel fine,” she said breathlessly. Well, she had. Now she felt devastated. She’d found true love, true happiness, and her body had betrayed her again.

“It might be nothing. Let’s do the biopsy and see what we have to deal with before we talk about treatment options.”

She nodded and somehow found the strength to climb to her feet and shuffle out of his office. The nurse told her where she should go for her biopsy, and then she went to find Eric in the waiting room. He looked almost as nauseous as she felt.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I need another test,” she said breathlessly. She couldn’t tell him why. She just couldn’t.

“Why?”

“Because,” she snapped. “Doctors like to stick long, thick needles into my body, that’s why!”

“I have something long and thick I’d like to stick into your body.”

She knew that he was trying to cheer her up, but it wasn’t working. “Just shut up, Eric. I’m not in the mood.”

He looked like she’d slapped him. “Sorry.”

She squeezed her forehead between both hands, trying to stave off a threatening headache. “Let’s just go get this over with.”

They made Eric wait outside while they used some kind of machine to direct the needles they jabbed her with while collecting their samples. When they left her alone, she laid there on the examination table, staring at the ceiling to fight threatening tears. They told her they’d have the results of the biopsy soon. Didn’t want her to leave in case they had to poke her some more. Her doctor had ordered her biopsy evaluation STAT, and there was a qualified pathologist on duty. At least she wouldn’t have to wonder for long.

The door opened and Eric appeared in the doorway. “Are you decent?”

“Unfortunately,” she muttered.

“I’m supposed to say that,” he said, settling beside her on the padded table. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. They sat there silently for a long while. “Are you okay?” he asked finally.

She shook her head, blinking hard, her lips pursed.

“Tell me, baby. Not knowing what’s going on has to be worse than the truth.”

“Worse than the cancer being back? I’d rather not know.”

“It’s back?” he whispered.

“I don’t know. They found a suspicious spot on the MRI so they did a biopsy to see if it’s cancer.”

“Everything will be all right, sweetheart,” he said.

She glared at him. “If the cancer has relapsed, nothing is all right, Eric. Nothing.”

“I’m here,” he said. “Okay? You beat this once. You can do it again.”

“I don’t want to go through chemotherapy again, Eric. It makes me so tired. I’ll be all sick and skinny. All my hair will fall out. I won’t be beautiful anymore.” She squeezed her eyes and swallowed. “Or sexy.”

Eric cupped her face in both hands, his thumbs stroking the tears from her cheeks. “Look at me, Rebekah.”

She forced her eyes open.

“You know I think your outer package is perfect,” he said, “but what’s beautiful about you is in here.” He pressed the fingertips of one hand to the center of her chest over her aching heart. He moved his other hand to the side of her head. “What’s sexy is in here.” He kissed her forehead, her temple. “I said I’d love you forever, baby. That doesn’t mean I abandon you when you’re sick. If you’re too tired to get out of bed, I’ll carry you. If your hair falls out, I’ll…” He grabbed the long strand of purple resting against his collarbone. “I’ll cut this off and tape it to your forehead.”