and you don't have anyone to turn to. Seriously, you really want to keep what ever this is all to yourself? Already said I'm not firing you. You got the fucking Cadillac plan, Mack. No one gets the Cadillac plan. Now you have fucking marks from an IV in your arm, and your puking your guts out?"
"It's not contagious. I'm fine. I just might have some off days. Ok?"
"K," he said, his tone never changing. "Tuesday at lunch you looked like you'd lost your puppy. Tuesday evening you managed to cry on my shoulder, and we both know it wasn't just that damned job. You worked all week harder than the rest of us, and now you have catheter marks? Being pregnant makes sense, but you say that isn't it." Ryan caressed her arm gently. "I won't make you tell me, but I'll listen. I've still got two good shoulders."
She looked away, remembering the last time he said that. "Yeah, and a fucking long sleeve. You can't even let me see your tattoos, but want me to bear my soul?"
He sighed, and nodded. "No, you're right." Then he stood.
Tugging his shirt off left nothing but a thin white tank - a wife beater - underneath. Mack couldn't help it, she looked. His broad shoulders filled every inch of the tight shirt, covered in brilliant colors. Light but vivid blues, pinks, yellows, and oranges kissed across his left arm, looking like a neon rainbow of sharp lines. As her eye followed them, she realized that each was an animal, slowly working into the next.
A tiger clawed across his arm in reds, orange, and black. A bird flew from its claws toward what could only be a giraffe. At his wrist the colors were dark jewel tones, but as they moved up to his shoulder, the pigment changed to pastels and neons. It was beautiful and made of nothing but pointed lines -but graceful and gentle as well. Through the thin fabric, she could see shapes staining his right pectoral, but that was all. Where ever his third tattoo was, it wasn't on his upper body.
"That's beautiful," she said weakly. "It fits you."
The corner of his lip twitched up, and his blue eyes fell back to her arm. "Thanks. Everyone expects me to be covered in shit like Colby. I never was a fan of black, so I decided to do something different."
"I have cancer."
His eyes flicked back up and met hers. He said nothing, but the only thing she could see on his face was understanding.
"Stage IIB cervical cancer. I started chemo today. I'll lose my hair by next weekend or the one after."
"So no more coffee, huh?"
She bit her lip, begging the tears to hold off. She wasn't a victim. she didn't need sympathy, and she wouldn't act like it.
"I have no idea. The doctors say it's different for everyone, and what is horrible one day might not be the next."
"Then we'll take it one day at a time. You need to lay down for a bit or anything? Truth, Mack. Don't fucking try to tough this shit out on me."
She sighed. She'd been exhausted all day, and honestly, crashing on the sofa in the break room didn't sound bad at all. If Ryan was honestly going to be this nice about the whole thing, maybe she should grab just a couple of hours of sleep.
"I didn't sleep at all last night."
Chapter 6
Ryan patted her hand, then left, holding up one finger for her to wait. He walked down the hall, and leaned into the main shop, calling out to Colby.
"Taking Mack upstairs."
"Good idea, man. I'll call if there's anything," Colby said.
When he came back into the room, she was still feeling like she'd been hit with a bat. All day, she'd felt like she was working twice as hard to do half as much, and now, her stomach was obviously unhappy. She knew she'd gone pale, and her hands were clammy, but she refused to be the weak girl that couldn't take care of herself.
"Come with me," he said, gently helping her from the chair.
"Would you be upset if I asked you to move the coffee pot?" she asked.
"The coffee
"It's not contagious. I'm fine. I just might have some off days. Ok?"
"K," he said, his tone never changing. "Tuesday at lunch you looked like you'd lost your puppy. Tuesday evening you managed to cry on my shoulder, and we both know it wasn't just that damned job. You worked all week harder than the rest of us, and now you have catheter marks? Being pregnant makes sense, but you say that isn't it." Ryan caressed her arm gently. "I won't make you tell me, but I'll listen. I've still got two good shoulders."
She looked away, remembering the last time he said that. "Yeah, and a fucking long sleeve. You can't even let me see your tattoos, but want me to bear my soul?"
He sighed, and nodded. "No, you're right." Then he stood.
Tugging his shirt off left nothing but a thin white tank - a wife beater - underneath. Mack couldn't help it, she looked. His broad shoulders filled every inch of the tight shirt, covered in brilliant colors. Light but vivid blues, pinks, yellows, and oranges kissed across his left arm, looking like a neon rainbow of sharp lines. As her eye followed them, she realized that each was an animal, slowly working into the next.
A tiger clawed across his arm in reds, orange, and black. A bird flew from its claws toward what could only be a giraffe. At his wrist the colors were dark jewel tones, but as they moved up to his shoulder, the pigment changed to pastels and neons. It was beautiful and made of nothing but pointed lines -but graceful and gentle as well. Through the thin fabric, she could see shapes staining his right pectoral, but that was all. Where ever his third tattoo was, it wasn't on his upper body.
"That's beautiful," she said weakly. "It fits you."
The corner of his lip twitched up, and his blue eyes fell back to her arm. "Thanks. Everyone expects me to be covered in shit like Colby. I never was a fan of black, so I decided to do something different."
"I have cancer."
His eyes flicked back up and met hers. He said nothing, but the only thing she could see on his face was understanding.
"Stage IIB cervical cancer. I started chemo today. I'll lose my hair by next weekend or the one after."
"So no more coffee, huh?"
She bit her lip, begging the tears to hold off. She wasn't a victim. she didn't need sympathy, and she wouldn't act like it.
"I have no idea. The doctors say it's different for everyone, and what is horrible one day might not be the next."
"Then we'll take it one day at a time. You need to lay down for a bit or anything? Truth, Mack. Don't fucking try to tough this shit out on me."
She sighed. She'd been exhausted all day, and honestly, crashing on the sofa in the break room didn't sound bad at all. If Ryan was honestly going to be this nice about the whole thing, maybe she should grab just a couple of hours of sleep.
"I didn't sleep at all last night."
Chapter 6
Ryan patted her hand, then left, holding up one finger for her to wait. He walked down the hall, and leaned into the main shop, calling out to Colby.
"Taking Mack upstairs."
"Good idea, man. I'll call if there's anything," Colby said.
When he came back into the room, she was still feeling like she'd been hit with a bat. All day, she'd felt like she was working twice as hard to do half as much, and now, her stomach was obviously unhappy. She knew she'd gone pale, and her hands were clammy, but she refused to be the weak girl that couldn't take care of herself.
"Come with me," he said, gently helping her from the chair.
"Would you be upset if I asked you to move the coffee pot?" she asked.
"The coffee
Similar Books
