Chapter 12 #2
But now she had to find the courage to spill the beans.
She didn’t want Truck to look at her with pity or treat her differently.
It was hard to be the full-speed-ahead Mary all the time that people had come to expect.
There were days where all she wanted to do was stay in bed and not see or talk to one single person.
Throughout the workday, her phone was constantly buzzing with incoming texts from all the girls. Rayne sent a selfie of her and Emily. Emily looked amazing after giving birth only the day before. But it was the picture of Annie holding her new brother that made tears well up in Mary’s eyes.
The little girl looked positively ecstatic.
It was adorable and beautiful at the same time.
The thought that she might’ve missed seeing this if Truck hadn’t browbeaten her into marrying him was painful.
He’d done the right thing. As hard as going through the treatments again had been, seeing Annie and her baby brother made it worth it.
When Mary had asked Rayne what Emily and Fletch had named their son, she’d reported back that no one knew yet. The Fletchers were throwing a welcome-home party when Em and the baby were released from the hospital, which should be by that weekend, and they were going to reveal it then.
Mary had merely shook her head. Emily loved having people over, loved even more when everyone was there. Despite what had happened at her wedding, she loved a big, boisterous party.
By the time four-thirty came, Mary was done mentally. The day had sucked. Everyone was depressed, it had seemed like there were more customers than normal, and Mary had to give another tour of the safety-deposit vault to another shady potential customer.
She’d tried to talk to Jennifer once more, to explain that something was very wrong and she needed to get extra security in or something, but her boss once again blew her off.
She tried to tell herself it was because Jennifer was knee-deep in the reorganization of the staff and trying to figure out when the new machines for the lobby were going to arrive, but something didn’t sit right with Mary.
There was a feeling of wary anticipation in the air that Mary couldn’t help but think was going to bite them all in the ass.
Not one of the young men who’d toured the vault had come back to return the application and actually rent a box.
Not a single one. Which gave more credence to the fact that they were up to no good.
Why Jennifer was ignoring all the signs pointing to something big, Mary couldn’t fathom.
When Mary left the bank at the end of the day, she was fried.
Mentally done. The stress of knowing she was most likely going to be unemployed, worrying about if, or when, the gang members were going to make a move, and thinking about what she was going to tell Truck, not to mention skipping lunch, had all worked to make her want to go home and bury herself in her bed covers and not come out for a week.
But she’d told Truck she’d be over after work, and she wasn’t one to go back on her word. Knowing she should probably wait until she was in a better frame of mind, Mary knocked on Truck’s apartment door anyway.
It opened almost immediately and Truck smiled down at her with his lopsided grin. An urge to collapse against him and let him take care of her swept over Mary, but she resisted.
“Hi,” he said. “How was your day?”
“Shitty,” Mary said bluntly.
He looked surprised at her answer, but then his face gentled and he reached out and grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry, Mare. Come in. Let me get you something to drink. You hungry?”
Mary allowed him to pull her into his place and shut the door behind her. She didn’t answer him as he walked toward his kitchen, her hand secure in his.
It felt good.
It reminded her of how he’d always taken care of her when she’d been sick.
And suddenly she was tired of it all.
She didn’t like keeping secrets from Truck, but she really hated having to tell him about her cancer. She didn’t like to talk about it, would prefer to pretend it never happened at all…and she resented that she was in this position in the first place.
Mary knew her feelings were irrational, but she couldn’t help it.
She’d gone to see a therapist at her doctor’s urging when she’d been diagnosed a second time.
He’d assigned her the task of writing down her feelings in a journal, then bringing it in so they could talk about what she’d written.
Mary had gone back once then stopped altogether.
She didn’t like sharing her feelings. She’d continued to write in the damn journal here and there, but ultimately it didn’t make her feel any better.
Mary had no idea where the stupid thing was now, probably at the bottom of one of the boxes the girls packed up when they’d moved her out of Truck’s apartment, but she suddenly had the urge to write in it again.
To pour out everything she was feeling right now.
“Mare?” Truck asked again. “Want me to fix us something for dinner?”
He’d let go of her hand and was standing in front of the refrigerator looking at her, waiting for her to answer.
“I had breast cancer,” she blurted. “Twice. I had a double mastectomy. I know almost all of the nurses at the hospital because I was there so much. That’s what that nurse was talking to me about yesterday.
I missed my appointment with my doctor to talk about my breast reconstruction because I just can’t deal with that yet. ”
She stared at Truck defiantly. That wasn’t exactly how she’d planned to tell him, but the words simply spilled out of her. She couldn’t deal with making small talk and pretending everything was all right. She just needed to tell him. And now she had. The ball was in his court.
Mary’s words caused Truck’s stomach to clench painfully. After his flashbacks, or memories, or whatever they were, he’d had a hunch that was her big secret, but hearing her confirm it so bluntly was jarring.
He slowly lowered his hand from the fridge and stepped toward her.
His heart broke when Mary moved away from him, rejecting the comfort he wanted—no, needed to give her.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked.
“Did you hear me?” she asked, and Truck could see her hands shaking. “I had breast cancer. There’s a chance it could come back a third time.”
“What do the doctors say?”
She shrugged. “They don’t know. They think they got it all this time, but no one knows. I’ll have to take drugs for the next eight to ten years to manage it. They’ll do tests every year to check to see if it’s returned.”
Truck struggled to find the right words that would comfort her. He loved her. The thought of her not being here, not standing in front of him right this second, was so abhorrent, he grimaced. “How are you feeling?” he asked inanely.
“Fine. Well, except for the numbness in my toes, which is fucking annoying. And before you ask, I prefer my hair short. I was bald for a while, but I’m not trying to grow my hair out longer than this. I like it short.”
“I like it too. It’s cute.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “Just what I want. To be cute. Gag.”
His lips twitched at that. He took another step toward her, and she either didn’t notice or didn’t feel the need to keep the distance between them. He liked that. “I take it I helped out when you were sick.”
She nodded. “Yeah. You…you helped a lot.”
“Good.” Another vision of walking into his apartment after work and finding Mary sprawled on the living room floor flashed through his brain.
She’d fallen and hadn’t had the strength to get up.
She’d tried to pretend as if she’d purposely decided to take a nap on the floor, but he’d seen right through her. “You’re amazing,” he said softly.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, Mare. You are. Cancer sucks. Fighting it once breaks people. But you not only beat it once, you beat it twice. That’s amazing.”
“I didn’t want to do it the second time,” she admitted. “Rayne was there for me the first time, but I decided I couldn’t do it again. I was ready to give up.”
“But you didn’t.”
She shook her head. “No. Because you wouldn’t let me.”
The words hung in the air for a moment…
“No! You’re talking crazy!” Mary yelled.
“I’m not, and you know it. It’s the only way,” Truck returned as calmly as he could. He couldn’t believe she was arguing about this. Not now. Not after everything that happened recently.
“No!”
“Yes!”
“No!”
Truck could’ve argued all night, but seeing the tears in Mary’s eyes, coursing down her cheeks, was his undoing. “Say yes, Mare,” he cajoled. “Please. For Rayne. For Annie. For me.”
Mary stared at him for the longest time, and Truck forced himself to stand still, even though he wanted to haul her into his arms and hold her tight. She had to say yes. But he couldn’t force this, no matter how badly he wanted to.
Finally…she nodded. Truck immediately went to her and gathered her into his arms and held her as she cried.
He blinked as he abruptly came back to himself and realized that Mary was staring at him nervously, obviously waiting for him to say something. He had no idea what they’d been arguing about in his flashback, but it didn’t matter.
“Thank you for fighting,” Truck told her. “Thank you for not giving up. I’m sure you wanted to, but thank you for letting me help you.”
Mary looked at the floor then. They stood silent for a minute or so before Truck risked taking another step toward her.
When she didn’t retreat, he took another.
Then another. When he was right in front of her, he reached out and gently pulled her into his arms and held her just as he had in his memory.
She immediately wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head on his chest. Truck sighed in relief and shut his eyes. The only time he felt completely at ease since he’d been hurt was when he had Mary in his arms. It didn’t make sense; he only knew it was true.