Love, Diamonds, and Spades (Cactus Creek #2)(30)

Uncomfortable with the adoration he saw shining in her eyes, he gazed up at the ceiling. “I’m not that amazing.”

Two soft female hands cupped his jaw and turned his face back towards hers. “Yes. You are.”

“I couldn’t love her the way she needed, be what she needed. And because of me, she almost died.”

“Rylan, because of you, she lived. Have you heard from her since?”

“Once. She’s pretty far immersed in the world but she did contact me once.”

“And?”

“She’s happy. Finally. She sounded really happy.”

Quinn studied him for a bit. “You’ve never told anyone this have you?”

“No. I didn’t want folks to judge her.”

“So you had no one to ask you how you were doing during it all, after it all.”

He almost choked on the emotions in his throat. “No.”

A silent beat passed before she asked, “Were you okay during it all, after it all?”

“Not really. I’d felt like every emotion I possessed had been slaughtered in a war that I didn’t even know I’d been fighting until I was cornered and almost crushed. My heart had felt ripped to shreds. Not because she’d broken it, but because it’d been wrung dry, clawed at, twisted around, and cracked open. Shredded. It’d been shredded. But the sad part was that I didn’t ever love her, not really. I cared for her a great deal, but I stayed by her to help her and take care of her. I got my heart shredded and it wasn’t even filled with love for the woman at the time. Crazy, right?”

She gazed into his eyes—concern, empathy, and pride all swirling around in that blue abyss. “How on earth did you survive that? Move on from that?”

That was easy. His heart stuttered a beat as he said simply, “You. You helped me move on from that. You help me glue back the pieces of my heart without even trying.”

She blinked in surprise, tenderness softening her expression. Crawling back across the bed, she tucked herself against him and he almost shuddered at the emotions flooding through him at the perfect fit, the grounding feeling she brought him each time.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


QUINN HAD NEVER been happier in her life.

Of course her life raising Cooper alone had always been one filled with love, laughter, and joy. But true and unconditional happiness…she wasn’t sure she’d really ever had that until Rylan came into her life.

It had happened over time, in small and big ways, random and unexpected ways—she’d fallen in love with him. Slowly when she wasn’t looking.

Well she was looking now.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to be late to work, woman,” warned Rylan, pulling her in for another deep goodbye kiss.

They’d been saying goodbye for a good ten minutes now.

“Alright, alright,” she brushed one last kiss on his lips and fell back onto her heels, smothering a laugh when he looked like a boy who’d just dropped his ice cream cone.

“You need to go to work, and so do I.” She turned to head over to her car, ever so aware of his eyes lingering on her from behind.

She’d just swung her car door when suddenly she felt her feet getting swept right up off the ground.

“One more kiss,” rumbled Rylan as he cradled her body against his.

It was a hell of a kiss.

Hours later, she was still floating along on the same ridiculously happy bubble on her way to pick Cooper up from preschool.

She wasn’t at all surprised when her phone rang when she was just minutes away.

“Hey, sweetie,” Rylan’s deep, velvety rich voice filled the car over the Bluetooth speakers. “Are you sure you don’t need me to take off work and head over to the doctor with you guys?”

“It’s fine,” she reassured him for the umpteenth time. “It’s his yearly check-up with his pulmonologist. They usually just take some scans and check his breathing. No big deal. You coming over tonight?”

That stopped being a yes or no question for Rylan weeks ago. “I should be done here by six.” A loud commotion sounded behind him. “Criminy. Babe, I gotta run. See you tonight.”



*



HOURS LATER, QUINN was plugging Cooper’s nebulizer in and flipping through the channels of the small TV she’d put in there as soon as they got home.

When he was entranced by the late afternoon cartoons, she set her alarm to half the time of Cooper’s treatment schedule.

Then she went into her room.

Locked the door.

And cried.

Another surgery.

Cooper needed yet another surgery.

The doctors had needed today’s new scans to confirm what they’ve been apparently suspecting for a while. Various areas of scar tissue from the respiratory complications and resulting half dozen surgeries Cooper had endured as a newborn were now blocking a large portion of his airway and hindering his ability to breathe even in normal day-to-day function.

So that hadn’t been mere asthma attacks that he’d been suffering through the past several months.

Quinn cried even harder as she replayed their description of the entire airway reconstruction surgery Cooper would need—a complex procedure that would be multiply invasive, require months of difficult recovery, and of course, cost thousands even after insurance.