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I imagined needles, syringes, and stirrups…and a grimace lined my face. Would any part of the process be enjoyable—or only painful? Embarrassing? Unpleasant?
If it could be done with cows on the farm, I could trust doctors and science, right?
A scene flashed through my ridiculous mind of me bent over and mooing, and I bit back a snort of laughter.
Shaking my head, I put aside rambling thoughts about eggs, sperm, and cows. We had more important things to face first—together as a triad.
Three would be stronger than two when hearing Ashton’s diagnosis, and I wanted nothing more than to be available to him and Rhett both in whatever way they needed me.
If it meant eventual sponge baths and bedpans for Ashton, then I would serve with a willing, loving heart. If that included holding Rhett again while he allowed himself to feel everything he’d been stifling since childhood, then I would gladly offer my shoulder for him to soak no matter the time of day.
My arms would be available.
My hands theirs to cling to.
My ears to hear while I bit my tongue to keep quiet and just listen.
But most importantly, my heart to accept and love unconditionally regardless of the outcome.
Rhett and I had connected intimately just the one time, but I’d felt potential, potently so, in those brief moments he had allowed me to touch his soul. And after managing to hold my silence as he’d unloaded and named each and every emotion he’d been repressing since meeting me?
I’d never seen anything so damn sexy as a man recognizing his feelings and deciding how to deal with them.
But that was Rhett. He always had a plan, and his confidence even in the face of the unknown turned me on and made me feel safer than I’d ever been.
Had we been anywhere but a hospital facing possible life-changing news, I’d have thrown myself at him, begged him to kiss me, to share his soul with mine again.
To fill up that part of me that craved his presence along with Ashton’s.
A heavy sigh flatted my lungs as we approached our lover’s door. Our feet slowed.
Rhett hesitated, tightening his clutch on my hand rather than reaching for the doorknob.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, peering up at him while soothing my thumb over the back of his hand.
“What if it’s not?” he asked, turning to meet my gaze, his dark eyes intense and filled with rare insecurity. Even his shoulders slumped as though a heavy weight pressed him toward the grave.
My heart ached for the man broken down by instability, from his feelings finally having free rein.
I cupped his cheek, loving how he leaned into my touch as though absorbing strength from me. “I meant it’s okay to be afraid.”
Wetness glazed his eyes, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my hair and neck.
I’d never felt such a sense of rightness, as though fate whispered in my ear she intended this all to happen for Rhett’s healing. In that moment, hope rose inside me, and I gladly accepted the circumstances of what we faced.
“We’re going in there together,” I murmured, squeezing him tight, “hopefully forward as three, and if not, I’ll be here for you.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, and while I wasn’t sure for what exactly, I rubbed his back until he took a fortifying breath and straightened. “Ready?”
“No,” I stated the honest truth. “But if you hold my hand, I will be.”
Rhett didn’t outright smile, but his eyes lightened. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine. Chaste and fleeting but far from unmoving.
Coils of desire rose inside me at the softness of his lips, the slight scrape of his scruff.
Potent, sexy man…he knew how to distract me in the sweetest way possible.
I refrained from grabbing him and wrapping a leg around his thigh.