Chapter 18
18
FIONA
His eyes bugged out of his head like a cartoon character that got flattened by an anvil.
“Shit, did you have cancer? Are you okay?” He dropped his fork onto the plate with a clatter.
His blue eyes raked over me, then startling me, he pushed to his feet.
Then he grabbed my hand, pulled me to mine and inspected me. Literally looked me over from head to toe. His hands followed and not in a sexy times way.
“No, I didn’t have cancer,” I said, swatting at his concerned groping. “I had an acoustic neuroma.”
He blinked, set his hands on his hips. “Pretend I’m five.”
I quirked a brow. “That won’t be hard. ”
He glared, and not in the way when we bantered. No, a vein throbbed in his neck, and he looked… panicked.
“It’s a slow growing tumor–not cancerous–that encases the cranial nerve.” I tapped my right ear with my pointer finger. “It messes with your hearing. Balance. Other stuff.”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “How did you find it?”
“As you know, I carry a gun.”
“We should probably talk about why you’re armed.”
“I’m an FBI agent. What’s your excuse?”
His glare returned. “I like to protect myself. Back to the tumor.”
“After the one radiation treatment, it’s a hundred percent gone.”
His shoulders actually drooped. “That’s good, sweetheart.”
“I’m not weak,” I countered right away. Most people thought because I had brain surgery–albeit without cutting open my skull–that I needed to be surrounded by bubble wrap or put in a rest home called Shady Acres.
“Never said you were. That must’ve been scary as hell.”
People knew about my tumor. My colleagues at work. Neidermeyer. Trotter. HR. Since I didn’t really have much more than a bunch of acquaintances, I didn’t dump my health issues on them. I’d gone through the ordeal of doctor’s appointments, the one-day radiation treatment, hospital stay, and recovery, solo.
It didn’t matter. I was used to doing things for myself .
Dax’s interest was a little unnerving because of his intensity, but it was also… nice.
Which meant awkward, because I wasn’t used to nice.
“What was scary was that my aim was off and it’s never off,” I told him. “After they found the tumor, it explained that and also the ringing in my ears, which I figured everyone got after a loud concert or something.” She put her hands up by her head. “Treatment was gamma knife radiation where they put this thing on my head, kinda like the nerdy guy from Ghostbusters when he turned into the Keymaster, and then they zapped the spot with radiation.”
“That’s it?” He pointed toward my ear and twirled his finger in a circle. “They put a colander on your head, zapped it and then it’s over?”
I shrugged, inwardly pleased he knew my movie reference. “Pretty much.” Minus the fact that two months later I started to hear really, really well. Then amazingly well. Then like a flipping bat. Dax wouldn’t believe me. Who would? He’d laugh at me. Stop eating the cheesy rice leftovers with me and walk out the door. He’d… not like me.
Even though he annoyed the shit out of me, I didn’t like the idea of that one bit. I wasn’t going to admit to him that I liked that he’d broken into my place. That he’d wanted to see me enough to do that. It was weirdly romantic.
And I liked it, which was a problem.
That was why I’d left first in the bookstore. It was easiest to not let people in. If Dax wanted in my vagina again, that was fine. But my head or my heart? Not happening .
“It’s not something I dwell on. I had it. They resolved it. It happened. The end.”
The radiation center had support groups and counselors and all kinds of things to help with my mental health after such a diagnosis. I hadn’t wanted any of that. I didn’t need it. Sure, it was fucked up, but just as I told Dax, I didn’t dwell on it. What I did fixate on was the hearing change. Routine post-treatment scans showed no signs of tumor recurrence, so the amazing hearing wasn’t an indicator of something bad.
Then I got the letter from the radiation department at the treatment center. It said things like “treatments from the radiation machines may have been affected by a maintenance issue” and “let us know if you have any unusual side effects.”
The radiation machine that zapped my brain had been broken and now I had a very unusual side effect. No way was I telling the center about it.
“You wanted to meet Hannah to commiserate? Talk?”
Talk, and to find out if she had an unusual side effect of her own.
I nodded. “Yes, I wanted to make up a little club with a fun handshake and a secret code to share messages.”
His gaze narrowed to just shy of a glare. “Did the brain tumor make you this salty and sarcastic?”
I shook my head. “No. This is my natural sunshiny disposition. What’s your excuse? Hemorrhoids?”
Now it was a full-on glare.
“Your turn,” I prompted. “What’s got you behind the counter at a romance bookstore when you don’t really work there? And with a gun? And I don’t mean the one in your pocket that the yoga lady wanted to test fire.”
His lethal grin was back.
“Yoohoo!”
The voice from the front door had Jack whirling about, reaching behind his back. I stopped him with a hand on his forearm before he pulled out his infamous gun and shot Dottie. I didn’t want her to drop the burritos.
“In the kitchen!” I called. It seemed I needed better locks in this place.
Dax eyed me but said nothing.
In came Dottie with a covered plate in her hands. Her eyes went to Dax like a heat seeking missile to a target. He was that hot.
“Oh, well, aren’t you a tall glass of water.”
“Dottie, this is my…” What was Dax? Frenemy? Dick with a side of asshole?
Dax stood. “Boyfriend. I’m Fiona’s man.”
What the what?