Page 102 of Healed Hearts

Holden turns to me from his position on the couch, where Wren is tucked against his chest, dead asleep. “No. It can take up to six months for it to start working, if it’s going to.”

Six fucking months. What am I supposed to do with that? Just let my daughter suffer and fucking suffer until what? Until she hopefully gets a bone marrow transplant? “This fucking sucks.”

He nods, brushing a stray lock of her curly hair off her face. “Yeah, it really does. But we should know something about adefinite diagnosis within a couple of days. Although Beck and I both agree the initial diagnosis is right.”

I watch the two of them, irritation and anger burning in my stomach. It seems we’ve moved past panic and are solidly in the angry category. Both make me feel completely out of control. At least with the anxiety, I can pop a Xanax and let it disappear for a while. Sure, it’s an illusion, but it’s an illusion I need, thank you very much.

Holden sighs, wrapping slim fingers around my hand, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be okay in time, I promise.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t really help right now, does it?” I snap. Holden’s gaze turns slowly toward me, and he pulls his hand from mine. My stomach drops out as shocked emerald pools meet my eyes. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”Goddammit.

Holden doesn’t respond. Not with words, anyway. He slowly adjusts Wren until she’s lying on the couch and then he crawls across it and climbs in my lap. The second his weight settles on me, I pull him against me and bury my face in his hair, wrapping my arms around him like a vise. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

He hums softly. “I think I’ve jumped your ass enough times that you owe me at least a couple.” There’s humor in his voice, but it does nothing to assuage my guilt about the way I snapped at him. He’s doing his best. We all are. Hell, I’m half-convinced he’s the only reason I’m not a complete fucking mess right now.

“You deserve better than to be talked to that way.”

He pulls back and his eyes meet mine. “You’re scared. Hell, I’m scared. What did you tell me about how love makes you a little crazy?” He smirks at me.

I sigh. “Yeah, but it’s different when I’m trying to stop you from feeling guilty. When I’m the one who feels guilty, I don’t like my words being used back against me.”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. When he pulls back, his eyes are lit with humor and understanding. “You know, it’s the craziest thing, but I think this makes me love you more.”

What?

“That doesn’t make any sense, darlin’.”

He shrugs. “Sure it does. It’s the first chink I’ve seen in your armor. You’re usually so reserved and calm. It’s nice that I’m not the only one who loses my shit and gets snappy from time to time. I hardly believed you were capable of being less than perfection. It’s nice to see you’re just as flawed as I am.”

The grin on his gorgeous face makes me relax a bit. Not completely. But a little. “I don’t ever want to use you as my emotional punching bag. That’s not a flaw I want.”

His face turns serious, his eyes assessing. “Julian, you’re not using me as a punching bag. You’re stressed out about your daughter and her health.” He pauses and lets out a little half laugh. “Oh no, my perfect, too good to be true boyfriend, who is endlessly patient and loving and caring, snapped at me one single time. I’m positively mistreated. Where’s the guy with the red flags?”

This little shit. I pull him back toward me and hold him tightly against me. I’d be happy to have this forever—his weight in my lap, my arms wrapped around him. I thank my lucky stars every day that I decided to get back out there. Turns out, I didn’t need distance or detachment at all. I simply neededhim.

I let my fingers explore the small of his back as he practically melts against me, a little whimper rising in his throat. I chuckle. “You really like physical touch, huh?”

He nods. “Yeah, I really do. It’s hard when you need it so damn much, but you can’t get it because the only people who want to touch you are the same people hurting you. So it’s like, cool, I’m gonna touch you, but I’m actually going to give you lastingtrauma. I found myself accepting things I probably shouldn’t have, just so I could be touched.”

He says it so matter of fact. Like it doesn’t bother him at all, but it bothers the hell out of me. I think of a younger version of him, being denied love, being forced to do awful things just to get human touch, and it hurts my heart so badly I almost can’t breathe around the pain. “I’m so sorry, Holden.”

He shrugs. “It is what it is. I can’t change the past. I can only be thankful for the present. And thesafetouch I get now.” He giggles. “You’ve ruined me for everyone else, though, I fear. The last couple of times I’ve tried to cuddle with Beck or Ro, it sucks. Not that I don’t love them, and they’re safe too, obviously. But it’s all wrong. I need it to be you. I’ve felt safe with you since that very first night. I never, ever fall asleep with hookups—too scared of what could happen to me.”

That makes me feel good. So good. “I always want to be safe for you, darlin’.”

He tilts his head back and gazes into my eyes. “I don’t think you have it in you to not be.” He grins, a thoughtful expression on his face. “When Beck told me he was going to propose to Ro, I was so happy for them. But there was a small part of me that was sad. I tried to hide it from Beck, but I didn’t do a very good job. I didn’t want them to think I wasn’t happy for them. I just…” His voice trails off as he tucks his face back into my neck. “I wanted that for myself, you know?” His words are muffled against my skin. “I wanted to belong to someone. To know that I had someone for me and only me. Someone who I could be vulnerable with, who I could trust with the less than savory parts of myself. Who I didn’t have to be scared around. I had given up hope. Until I met you.”

His words crack my chest wide open. I squeeze him closer to me, reveling in the feel of this amazing, wonderful, sometimes complicated and complex man in my arms. “I didn’t think therewas anyone for me, either. I figured I got lucky with Maya and that was that. I was afraid to let someone in. I wanted a quick hookup. I even told myself after you left that I did it and I could move on.”

He giggles against my throat. “Ruined your plans, huh?”

“You sure did.”

He’s quiet for a moment. When he pulls back, he grasps my face in his hands and peers into my eyes. “I have faith everything is going to work out. Wren will get the help she needs. And we’re all going to live happily ever after. In the meantime, I’m here for it all. The doctor visits and the hospital stays. Your fears. Your moods—all of them. Even the bad ones. I never want you to hide yourself from me. If you’re sad or anxious or hell—pissed at the world—I want to be the person you share that with. Even when it comes out in less than desirable ways. I’ll fight with you and for you and for Wren. I want that.”

His eyes are sincere, tinted with a hint of pleading, like there’s a chance in hell I’d ever deny him. I nod, too stunned to do anything else. Fuck. My previous assessment that this man is everything was spot on. “Ditto, darlin’,” I somehow choke out around the lump in my throat. Wars could be fought over the smile he gives me in return.

Wren’s sitting on my lap, Ruby and Henry on one side of us, and Holden and Roman on the other, when Dr. Mays steps into the room with Lydia and gives us an official diagnosis of aplastic anemia. Something that, as Dr. Mays explains, isnotcancer, but will still require near-constant medical supervision.

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