Head On (Strength And Love)(47)

Fucking hell. How old do I look? But then I realise I can use this to my advantage. I doubt they’d tell the real me much info, so I smile at her and nod.

“Private flight. Cuts the travel time down.” I hope she doesn’t know all about flight times from New York to England because there’s no way with travel time to and from both airports that Isla’s dad is going to be here for at least another few hours.

She dimples at me, and I smirk back. She’s wearing a name badge. “Do you mind telling me how she is, Stacy?”

“Not at all, Mr. Rose.” Her face turns serious and she leans in close. “I have to say you have the bravest daughter. What she went through as a child.”

“I know. The accident was terrible.”

She nods. “And then the cancer.”

I freeze. Just fucking freeze, all the air leaving my lungs. I nearly say what cancer, but stop myself in time. Still, Stacy has clocked my reaction because she blushes.

“I’m sorry. You probably don’t like to talk about it…it’s, well, she’s very brave.”

I recover myself and smile at her. “No. It’s not that, sometimes it still gets to me how much she’s been through.”

She nods, all big glassy eyes. Oh, God, she’s going to cry on me. How bad was it? I’m feeling sick as I speak to her again.

“Will the cancer and things make an impact on this injury?”

She frowns. “Actually, in a way it made the surgery a lot simpler. Because of the trajectory of the bullet it would have been a very tricky operation indeed, if she’d still had her reproductive organs.”

I swear to God, the room spins. I’ve faced down terrorists, alone, in the desert, but I think I’m about to have a panic attack or some shit right here on this quiet ward.

“Mr. Rose are you okay?”

I nod and give her a weak smile. “It’s the shock of it all, you know?”

She smiles and comes out from around the desk. “Let me get you a cup of water and then I can take you to see your daughter.”





Chapter Twenty Two



Isla



Ethan. I’m so glad to see him I immediately burst into tears when he walks into the room.

“Shhh.” He sits on the side of the bed and strokes my cheek with the back of one knuckle. It’s an oddly tender gesture for him.

My foot is out of the covers and raised in a contraption. He blinks at it twice. “What happened to your foot?”

“It’s my ligament. They say I may need more surgery, but a foot specialist is coming to see me tomorrow or the day after.”

He rubs at tired eyes. “I feel terrible, Isla. All of this is because you tried to save me.”

I smile. “Actually, the foot thing happened before I saved your life.”

He laughs a little. “You’re amazing. But I still ought to put you over my knee and spank you for your stunt. Jesus, Isla, what were you thinking? You could have called me and talked it out. You didn’t have to redecorate my house and run off.”

God. How embarrassing. I cringe now to think of it. My face heats. “I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t have kept it from me and lied.”

He nods. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but I knew you worried about that side of my life, and I thought you’d not trust me if I told you. Stupid of me. We both need to be more open, though.” And then he fixes me with this serious look, his eyes darkening. “I’m not the only one keeping secrets am I, Isla?”

It’s not a question, and I know exactly what he means. But, how did he find out? Now he’ll reject me. Who wants someone like me? The scars, and the accident, and losing Mummy in a car crash is bad enough. The minute people find out about the cancer, too, they start to get weird. It’s honestly as if people think I’m a bad luck charm, cursed or something.

I lost a lot of friends after getting sick. They treated me differently. Didn’t help that I missed a ton of school, but still, the way they dropped out of my life hurts. The taunts and ugly name calling of the bitchy girls even more so. Those who did care couldn’t look at me without tearing up. Dad was the only person to be there for me. He didn’t see me as broken, or someone deserving of pity. He used to tell me I was strong and brave, and that he admired me more than anyone else.

Now I’ll probably see that same scared pity on Ethan’s face I saw on so many others. I turn away as tears begin to pour silently down my cheeks.

“Baby.” His voice is the softest I’ve ever heard it. “Please, don’t cry. It’s okay. But I don’t get why you didn’t tell me.”

“Because ever since the cancer everyone in my life has treated me like a porcelain doll. Or worse, like some sort of cursed object. As if you can catch bad luck. They avoid me, don’t know what to say. Or they treat me as if I’ll break. You didn’t. In a way, you’ve been harder on me than anyone, and I liked it. You demanded something of me. I didn’t want to tell you and see the usual pity. I’m sorry. And I understand completely if you want to walk away.”

“Why would I walk away?” He pulls my face around to look at him. “Hey, look at me, Isla. Why would I walk away?”

I try to stop crying, but it’s hard. Here I am asking for respect, and I’m crying my eyes out. “Because, I got sick, really sick, and it can happen again. And I can’t have kids. I have to take HRT because I lost my reproductive organs early. I’m cancer free, and I’ve been told my chances of staying that way are excellent, but I still must be checked regularly for breast cancer. I’m not a good bet, Ethan.”