Raging Heart On (Lucas Brothers #2)(25)

"Did you take the meds your doctor prescribed?" he asks. He knows how horrible they can be.

"Yeah, it's not really helping it, though. My plan was to die slowly in bed."

"Aw, honey. Okay, first things first," he says, reaching around me to turn the light off. The room goes back to dark. It doesn't make a difference in the amount of sledgehammers crushing my skull, but it does ease the double vision, mildly. Next he bends down and sweeps me up in his arms.

"White," I groan, because as much as I love being in his arms, the pain that moves up my spine when he jostles me negates the pleasure.

"It's okay, honey. I have you," he whispers, holding me close. He carries me into the bedroom and lays me gently on the bed. "I'll be right back," he says as I curl in a ball, closing my eyes.

"You don't have to do this," I tell him, pulling a pillow over my head. He leaves the room without answering me. I figure he left me to die in peace. Instead I'm surprised when he comes back in. I moan when he pulls the pillow off my head. Then I feel something warm press against the back of my neck. A heating pad. I let him move me so I'm lying with my head on his lap. Once he gets me settled, he puts a warm cloth over my eyes. I lie there and slowly the heat begins to enter my system. The headache doesn't magically disappear, but it does lighten to just a dull roar echoing in my head. Eventually I feel his fingers combing through my hair. Even sick as a dog and in pain, I have to say it feels nice.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"I've got you, Buttercup."

"You always seem to," I tell him, trying not to worry about the future—and failing.

"That's not going to change."

"What if we ruin our friendship, White?" I whisper the one thing that's been bothering me since the amazing make-out session we shared at the bar.

"That will never happen, Kayla. We won't let it," he insists, and I know that's how he feels and maybe he even believes it. Still, I can't help but remember the one thing that makes all the difference.

"You don't want kids, White."

"I'm not going to lie, Buttercup. I've never wanted kids. I've seen what a mess having a child made in Green's life. Still, that was him and his taste in women generally sucks. You and I care about each other and the trust is there. I think it would be different. I'm hoping it will be."

Think… Hoping…

Those words do nothing to allay my fears. What if I go through with this and it destroys the relationship that White and I have? Can I survive not having him in my life? Is it unfair to force a child on him by letting him agree to this when he's doing it mainly because he's trying to save me from myself or a messy relationship with someone else? Doubts churn in my stomach.

"White, I'm having second thoughts about all of this. I don't think this is something that you truly want and I don't want to be the reason that you grow to resent me or our friendship."

"Kayla, stop worrying. I think our first step should be going to the doctor and making sure everything checks out okay. I want you to be able to know that I'm healthy and more than able to give you what you want most."

I'm glad he has a towel over my eyes. His words cause every feminine part in me to clench with need. He has no idea, but the thing I want the most is him. I want a child, don't get me wrong, but if I could have White for the rest of my life and he couldn't ever have a child, I would not give a damn. Not even a little. He would be more than enough, which means that making him tie himself to me could be the most selfish thing in the world. Sure, we could say the friendship would remain and we'd be fine. But for me, watching him with another woman, maybe even falling in love and having kids with her, while I am on the sidelines in his life with a child created in friendship, sounds like Hell on Earth. Could I live like that?

"I'm not worried about your soldiers being able to swim, White. With as many brothers and sisters as you have, genetics has to win out. I'm pretty sure you could knock up a sand flea buried in the Sahara.”

“I could… what?”

“Then again, you have slept with a million women and none of those have produced little crayons.”

“I wouldn’t say a million, and of course they haven’t. I’ve made sure—”

“I just… White, I'm not sure about all of this. If we get tested and they ask you how many partners you’ve been with? There’s no way you can remember them all.”

“I haven’t slept with a million women," he says, and he hasn't. I'm obviously exaggerating, but it hasn't exactly been a small number either.

"Still, maybe it'd be best to call this off, White. No harm, no foul." I try to figure out how I can just get out of this. No matter how much I want a child, it is not worth losing White over.

"We'll go get tested. End of discussion."

"White."

"Rest now, Buttercup. I need you to get feeling better. It's all going to work out just fine," he says, leaning down to kiss the side of my neck.

I don't respond. He may sound convinced about all of this, but I'm far from it.





CHAPTER 18


WHITE




She’s trying to back out.