Page 65 of The Sweet Spot

The kind of fear that precedes the worst kind of news.

The kind that changes everything.

“Brynlee...” No other words come as I hold onto her like she’s my lifeline.

She holds my cheek in her hand and closes her eyes. “My mom died of Huntington’s disease, Deacon.”

“What?” I ask, sure I just heard her wrong as my brain drags up everything I’ve ever heard about Huntington’s. And none of it’s good. “What?”

“Huntington’s disease. It’s a death sentence. There’s no cure. A person diagnosed today can live as little as ten years from their diagnosis.” Big, fat tears stream down her face. “And it’s genetic. If your parent has it, there’s a fifty/fifty chance you’ll inherit it from them.”

The axe falls hard and swift.

I just found her.

I’ve barely gotten to love her.

I can’t lose her.

“Brynlee... No. We’ll hire the best doctors in the world. I haven’t spent a penny of my money. I’ve saved it all. We’ll go wherever we have to. They’re always doing experimental things in Switzerland. We’ll go there. We don’t have to accept this. There’s got to be something we can do.”

Her lips tremble as her thumb runs over my cheek, catching the tear I hadn’t realized had fallen. “I wanted to tell you so many times?—”

“Why didn’t you? Did you think I wouldn’t be here? Did you think I would run?” I ask, so fucking hurt.

“Deacon... we didn’t get married because we were madly in love.” She shakes her head, like that makes any difference.

“I just found you. I’m not going to lose you,” I tell her, absolutely refusing to accept there’s nothing we can do. “There’s always something that can be done. We just have to find it.”

“I don’t know if I carry the gene, Deacon. I haven’t been tested yet. I’m scared. I’m not sure I want to know. If it’s positive, will I live every day, wondering if this is the day the symptoms start? Will I always wonder if today’s the day my countdown starts? I could live another twenty years before the first symptom hits, but if I carry the gene, I won’t have kids. I can’t. Not if I’d be doing this to them too. I’ve researched it, Deacon. It’s not an easy life, and it’s an awful death.”

“Jesus, Brynn. Is it better to live life not knowing? Not being able to do everything we can to prevent or slow the disease down before you get any symptoms? Isn’t it better to be prepared than to live not knowing whether you carry the damn gene?” The words come out harsh, but I’m so fucking angry right now. At her. At the world.

“You said there’s a fifty/fifty chance. What if you don’t have it? What if you’re fine and you spend your life wondering what if when you could have spent your life living?”

“I’m so scared, Deacon...” she whispers as her chest shakes with every shattered breath.

“Let me be your strength, Brynn. I’ll give you mine when you don’t have any left. We can get through this. But you’ve got to let me in.” I tuck her against my chest and listen to her cries.

“What if it comes back positive... What then?” she asks weakly.

“What if it comes back negative...” I counter. “What then?”

“Brynlee,” a man’s voice hollers through the other side of her door, followed by a bang before the door slams open against the wall. “Brynlee—” The guy barges in, calling out for her but then focusing on me. “Who the fuck are you?” This asshole asks, not reading the situation at all, and it looks like I have a target for all this anger.

I put her on the couch behind me and get between her and him. “I’m her fucking husband. Who the fuck are you?”

“Her what?” The guy yells back, taking a step toward us with his fists balled at his sides.

He’s a few inches shorter than me, but he’s built like a fighter.

“What the fuck, Killian?” Brynn stands up and moves in front of me, trying to wipe her face.

“Killian?” I ask, looking from her to him, unsure what she’s saying because my brain is still stuck on the fact that my wife could be dying.

“Yes,” she pushes me back. “Killian. My brother.” She looks behind the door that just put a hole in her wall. “Also the man who’s going to fix that wall tomorrow.”

“Brynnie, what the hell? Caitlin called and said some guy was screaming from the other side of your door. What the hell is going on in here? Did he hurt you?” he asks her, then turns his pissed-off glare on me. “What did you do to my sister?”

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