Chapter 12 #3
“Tell me about the reconstruction,” he urged, sensing it would be easier for her to talk about it if she wasn’t looking at him.
“I have to decide if I want boobs,” she said succinctly.
“What’re the pros and cons?” Truck asked. “Talk it out with me.”
“Pros, I won’t look like an eight-year-old little girl,” she said dryly. “I’ll have perky tits that won’t sag when I’m eighty. I could get a stripping job and cater to all the pervs out there who want to get it on with an elderly woman.”
Truck chuckled. “Yeah, not going to happen, babe.”
“Pros, I could wear V-neck shirts again. I’d have cleavage. I’d be able to wear normal bathing suits and not have to worry about making sure I put in my waterproof boobs. I wouldn’t have to worry about leaning over and having my boob fall out of my bra. I’d feel…attractive again.”
The last part was whispered, and Truck knew that was the most important thing she’d said.
He tightened his grip on her. As much as he immediately wanted to tell her to do it, he wanted her to feel as beautiful as she already was.
Wanted her to see herself as he did…absolutely stunning.
But he worried about the risks as well. “And the cons?”
“It would take over a year for the entire process. They’d have to take fat cells from my thighs and stomach and inject them into my chest to try to stretch out the skin there, so they can even put in the implants.
I’m paranoid that getting implants will somehow mask the cancer returning.
And I’ve always hated women who have fake tits.
It seems like something women do to try to attract men.
And that’s fucked up. They’re just blobs of fat on our chest… it shouldn’t matter.”
He understood. And unfortunately, he had absolutely no advice for her.
This wasn’t something he could decide. The process didn’t sound pleasant, that was for sure.
He hated the thought of her going through more pain simply to conform to society, but if it made her feel better about herself as a woman, it could be worth it.
“So? What should I do?” she asked.
Truck had dreaded the question. “I can’t make this decision for you, Mare.”
She snorted against his chest and pulled away abruptly. “Yeah. Whatever.”
He took hold of her upper arms and kept her from moving away from him. Her hands came up to push at him, but he held on. “I like you exactly how you are, Mary. I don’t give one little shit if you have boobs or not.”
Another memory flashed through his brain, of lying next to her in his bed, trying to find a place he could touch her that wouldn’t hurt.
Of Mary being bare from the waist up because she couldn’t stand anything against her chest. It was red and her skin was peeling off from the radiation.
He’d never seen anything so horrific in all his life, and he’d seen a lot in his time as a medic in the Army.
“Right,” she drawled. “Men like boobs. They like to squeeze them, suck on them, and love to see them bouncing up and down. Cleavage is like crack to men, they can’t look away.”
“I like you,” Truck said with a hint of impatience. “I like what’s in here,” he said, putting his hand on the side of her head. “And in here.” He put his other hand over her heart, noticing for the first time that her breasts weren’t natural. “The rest is just window dressing.”
Mary knocked his hands off her body and stepped back. “I don’t believe you. All men want a beautiful woman by their side.”
“Look at me,” Truck ordered.
“What?”
“Does my scar make you ashamed to be by my side? Does it make you less attracted to me?”
“It’s not the same,” Mary protested.
“It’s exactly the same,” Truck countered.
“I can’t tell you how many times women have refused to look me in the eyes because of it.
Or how many women have gone straight for one of my friends, dismissing me because of this hideous scar.
But the bottom line is, I don’t give a shit.
If they can’t see past my scar, then I want nothing to do with them.
Mary, when I lost my memory, you could’ve taken the opportunity to avoid me altogether.
You could’ve pretended you didn’t know me.
But you didn’t. When that chick at the bar made a play for me, you were right there, defending me and claiming me. Why?”
Mary looked away from him then. “Anyone would’ve done that.”
“No, they wouldn’t. They haven’t. You did though. Why?”
She pressed her lips together, then said, “What do you want to hear, Trucker? That I can’t live without you? That I owe you my life? What?”
“How about that you care?” Truck asked softly. “Can you admit that you care about me? Even a little?”
Mary stared at him with big eyes. He could see the emotions churning there. But he knew she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. What he needed.
He pulled out his ace card.
“I love you, Mary Weston. Even not knowing our history, I love you.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she stayed stubbornly silent.
“The last few weeks have been great. I’ve loved getting to know you…
again. Everything is new for me, and it’s been exciting to learn your likes and dislikes and your quirks.
I love your hair. I love the way you smell.
I love your snarkiness and the way you’d do anything for your friends.
I love how you look at little Annie, and I love how you think of everyone but yourself first. You stand up for the little guy, the oppressed.
I see you, Mary. I see how you might tell off a man who didn’t bother holding open the door for someone after he went through it, but then turn around and be polite and respectful to a single mother who looks like she’s at the end of her rope.
I love the way you snuggle up to me when we’re watching television, and I love how you argue with me about every fucking thing.
It’s you, Mary. Not what you look like. Not how big your tits are. You.”
She stared at him for a beat, then said, “I need to go.”
“Dammit, Mary! Don’t.”
“It’s been a hell of a day and I should go. I need to call Emily and see how she’s doing. And Annie too. They’re having a party this weekend, if the baby is home by then, and I need to see what she needs me to do.”
This seemed familiar too. Mary backing off when things got intense between them. Truck didn’t like it, but he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere now. Not when the iron shields she held around her were up.
He stood back and gestured to the door. “Running isn’t going to make me love you less, Mare,” he told her. “Running isn’t going to make your decisions any easier, either.”
“Thanks, Einstein,” she mumbled, then headed for the door.
She didn’t say goodbye, and neither did he. She just opened the door, walked through, and softly closed it behind her.
The second he heard it click, Truck let out an exasperated yell and turned and kicked the couch as hard as he could.
Mary heard Truck’s yell of frustration before she’d taken three steps away from his door, but she didn’t slow down. Didn’t go back, even though everything in her was screaming to do just that.
She could barely see where she was going because of the tears in her eyes.
She wanted to tell him that she cared. That he’d literally saved her life.
That she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.
That his apartment felt more like a home even without her things in it than her own did.
That she was proud and happy to be his wife… but she couldn’t.
There was something seriously wrong with her.
Every time she opened her mouth to tell him, she froze up.
Maybe it was the years of conditioning by her mama when she was little.
Maybe it was because the one and only time she’d told someone she loved them, that love was thrown back in her face. She didn’t know.
But she knew she’d just walked out on her one shot at being loved.
Truly loved. And she had no doubt Truck loved her.
He’d proven it again and again with his words and actions.
She knew he wouldn’t give a shit that she didn’t have boobs.
Knew that he’d stand by her no matter what her decision was about the reconstruction.
The tears fell from her eyes in a steady stream.
Her phone rang with Rayne’s special ringtone, but she ignored it.
She couldn’t talk to her best friend right now.
Rayne would tell her she was being an idiot.
That she should go back and talk to Truck.
But she couldn’t. She wanted to be alone. Needed to be alone.
She needed to get used to being alone, because after walking out on Truck, there was no way he’d want to be with her. She was a pain in the ass and she’d just rejected him.
It was better he didn’t know they were married.