Page 70 of One Night With You

“You’re not the trademarked term of being a predator. Not that kind of nice guy,” I said, exasperated. “But I don’t want you to carry everything on your shoulders and deep inside or whatever metaphor you want to use.”

“Just don’t go, okay?”

He didn’t answer the question, not that I had even had one.

“Just stay? I don’t think you should be alone either. Not after today.”

I sighed, then moved forward, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“Today was good, but it also sucked.”

“Majorly.”

And when he rested his cheek on the top of my head, I knew I was in trouble.

Because I was falling inlovelove. As in already there. Rock bottom, and terribly in love with a man who I was afraid didn’t love me back.

But before I could dwell too much on my emotions, his phone rang.

“Answer that, I’ll go figure out what we’re going to order to eat because I don’t think either of us want to cook.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He kissed me softly, and then answered.

“This is Kingston.”

He froze for an instant, and I looked up at him, eyes wide as this bright smile spread over his face.

“Just tell me the time. I’m there.”

I moved forward, hugging him tightly, knowing exactly who he was talking to.

And when he ended the call, he picked me up by the waist and spun me around.

“His counts are up. We’re doing the donation. Fuck yeah. We’re not going to fail this time. We’re going to fix this.”

“Kingston.”

He kissed me hard on the mouth.

“I know. I know. But we’re going to try, okay? We’re going to try.”

And I held him, and hoped to hell it would be enough.

16

KINGSTON

Donation the third time around wasn’t as easy.

I had been forced to stay the night for observation since my blood pressure had spiked, and then I’d been nauseous for most of the evening. Complications and side effects were always going to be an issue, but if it could help Buckley, I’d do it again and again—though I was pretty sure my body was done. I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to donate again, mostly because everything hurt like a bitch.

I lay on my couch, notebook in hand as I went through a couple of the scenarios for Noah and our next op, but all I really wanted to do was try to find a better position on the couch.

“You have an adjustable bed, why aren’t you usingit?” Claire asked as she walked into the living room, two cups of tea in hand.

Grumpy and in pain, I closed my eyes. “Don’t make me drink tea. Tea’s for when I’m sick.”

“You’re not feeling well, and your mom told me to make you tea. So I’m listening to Mrs. Montgomery.”

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