Strength (Wild Men) by Jo Raven

Author:Jo Raven
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: new adult romance, romantic suspense, contemporary romance, wild men
Publisher: Jo Raven
Published: 2019-01-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Griffin

“All done,” the doctor says, leaning back. “You may put your T-shirt back on now, Mr. Lambert.”

I nod automatically, my thoughts far away—back at the apartment and Sophie, memories from this week flashing through my mind like the stitched-together frames of an old movie.

Holding her in my arms.

Talking to her.

Listening to her retell some of the dark moments we had only to wash them clean, turn a spotlight on them and make me understand why I did what I did, why she reacted the way she did. Why we fought.

Why we need to tell each other things, and why it’s okay.

I want to believe it, believe in tomorrow, but...

“It’s looking good,” the doctor says, moving away from the examination table. “You pulled the staples a little, but nothing to worry about. No infection. I think you’re ready to start radiation again.”

And boom, there goes my bubble, letting all those doubts free to feed on the pieces. “Right.”

“We talked about this before the surgery, as you recall. Radiation will kill any remaining cancerous cells, giving you better chances of remission.”

Yeah, I knew this, but I’d managed to push it to the back of my mind. Between the surgery and Sophie, I’ve been busy.

Now heaviness settles on my chest. It’s a reminder that this isn’t over, that the sickness isn’t gone. That the odds of surviving are still not in my favor. That understanding the past is all very well, but the problem is the future.

Or the lack thereof.

“Mr. Lambert.” The doctor is giving me an expectant look from behind his desk, and I’m still holding my T-shirt and hoodie in my hands, sitting on the examination table. “Is everything okay?”

Is he fucking with me?

“Yeah,” I rasp, making myself move, pull on my clothes, wincing when the movement pulls on the wound. “Okay.”

“I asked if you’re visiting the psychologist, as I recommended the previous times.”

I shrug, angry without really knowing why. “I used to.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

Sliding off the table, I grab my walking stick and wait for the pain in my leg to settle. “I haven’t been back there.”

“I suggest you do it, Mr. Lambert.”

“I’m fine—”

“No matter what you think, cancer treatment and the kind of extensive surgery you’ve had is traumatic. Talking about it can help.”

I gather my new prescription and instructions for the radiation therapy without answering. What the hell is there to say? All I want is to get well, to be with Sophie—and talking to a stranger won’t help with any of that.

***

And so it begins again, the fuckery of radiation and the meds to control the symptoms. Fucking meds, they don’t do shit. Fucking therapy is killing me.

It feels like it’s killing me. The docs say it’s what may keep me alive. I don’t know what to believe, lost in a haze of black depression and fatigue. My chest feels heavy, like I can’t breathe, and my stomach keeps churning, sending bile up my throat, day after day, night after night.

It doesn’t help that

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