Page 66 of The Billionaire Benefactor

Blake had always been able to make her smile, but today his voice sounded guarded. “What’s wrong?”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Very. What is it? Is Roman okay?”

“He’s okay, but he’s in the hospital again. They’re running some tests because his headaches have been getting worse. He passed out at my place last night.”

Jenny’s stomach felt like it hit the floor. “What did the doctor say? Why are the headaches getting worse?”

“I feel like it’s my fault, at least partially. He’s been trying to remember.”

“I don’t understand.”

Blake sighed. “I’ve been pushing him to remember. Specifically, to remember you. I should have thought to ask you first as well—because I don’t want him remembering if you aren’t interested in seeing where things stand.”

“Things were already over. This just makes it more certain. I don’t know how remembering would change that, Blake. I appreciate your concern. For both of us.”

“So you’re saying that if he remembered and wanted to try again with you, you would say no?” His voice held a note of challenge in it.

I’d say yes.Jenny hesitated to respond to Blake, but only because the answer had been immediately clear. “I wouldn’t say no.” She closed her eyes. Even just admitting this to Blake made her feel like she was opening herself up to more heartbreak. What if he never remembered?

What if he did and he didn’t want her?

“This is so hard,” she said, her throat choking with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Blake said. “About all of it. I don’t know that I should have gotten in the middle of it. But I think that what he felt for you was real and maybe much stronger than you know. I was hoping that maybe it would be healing for him to remember, both for his brain and his heart. But I think he was pushing too hard.”

“Are you sure that it’s the reason for the headaches? You shouldn’t blame yourself if not.”

“The doctor couldn’t say for sure, but it was when he was trying to remember that his headaches got worse. We were talking about it when he blacked out. It may be simply the stress of it, but they’re going to need to do more therapy than they were originally thinking—hyperbaric oxygen something or other and stem cell therapy. I don’t know what that means, but that’s what I remember from what the doctor said.”

Jenny closed her eyes and leaned against the countertop, putting her face in her hand. “Blake, what can I do for him? I hate hearing this.”

“Me too. I don’t know yet. I wanted you to know and I’m telling him that I called you. I don’t know what he’s feeling or thinking, about this or about you. He was really agitated last night when he came over to talk about you. I thought it was good that he wanted to remember, until he took a nosedive on the carpet.”

Jenny’s breath caught, imagining Roman passing out. When she’d seen him injured on the field, it seemed so…impossible. He was too big and strong to be that vulnerable. She hated thinking of him like that. “Will you please let me know how I can help, or if I can?”

“I will. You’re good people, Jenny.”

“So are you. He’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

“Shucks. You’re going to make me blush. Last question—is it okay if I tell him what you told me?”

She laughed. “Probably. I’ve told you a lot. Which part?”

“The part about how you’d say yes if he was interested in you.”

Jenny traced a hand over the countertop, seeing crumbs and spots she’d missed in the granite the last time she wiped it down. Even thinking about this gave her hope and that hope felt foolish and painful. A verse came to her that she hadn’t thought about for a long time: Faith is being sure of what you hope for, being certain of things not seen.

“You can tell him,” Jenny said, hoping that the verse coming to mind was a nudge from God and not simply wishful thinking.

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