Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
With a sigh, I sit up and pull on a T-shirt. The wood floor creaks as I approach the door, turning on the entry light.
Scottie’s nose wrinkles. “Shit. You were asleep. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”
I nod at the big bag in her hands. “Whatcha got?”
“Things to make you better.”
“Better than what?”
Her crestfallen face doesn’t appreciate my humor.
“Come in.” I step aside.
“I really need to find another employee.” She slips out of her Birks and carries the bag to the kitchen.
I flip on the light over the sink. “Are you firing me?”
“No. I need someone to work so I can check on you before your bedtime.”
“Scottie,” I scratch my head, “I don’t want you checking in on me.”
“Someone needs to.” She pulls smaller bags and bottles of supplements out of her big bag.
“Why?”
“Because you live alone.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I live alone for a reason?”
She looks up at me. “You don’t want me here.” Her lips twist. “That’s rude.”
“No. That’s not it. I want you here. I want you here in ways you can’t understand. But I don’t want to be your pet project, patient, or burden.” I shake my head. “A job. A distraction.”
“You’re not.”
“Can we just go back to you knowing about my cancer but not telling me that you know, and I’ll pretend that you don’t know even though I know you know? Ya know?”
That line forms at the bridge of her nose, but it falls victim to her giggles.
I don’t care what she has in that bag; it can’t begin to heal me like the beautiful sound coming from her right now.
“Price. It’s not a coincidence that you came into Drummond’s when you did. It was fate. You needed me.”
More than you know.
But it wasn’t fate.
“And I have to believe that I need to do this, not only for you but also for me. I need something to keep me from losing myself in Koen.”
“Losing yourself?” I fill my water glass.
“He asked me to move in with him. And I didn’t think. I just said yes.”
“If his house is bigger than your trailer, I can see how you might get lost.”
“Har har.”
I pull out a chair, straddling it backward, and inspect the contents of the bags. “What do you mean by getting lost?”
She sits next to me. “The way I got lost in you.”
Glancing up from the bottle of nattokinase, I narrow my eyes. “You felt lost in me?”
She nods. “I spent entirely too much time thinking about you when we weren’t together. And when we were together, I resented the passing of time.”
I try not to react, but it’s a terrible feeling to think of how oblivious I was to her emotional state. “I was a terrible boyfriend. And don’t try to convince me otherwise. Just let me own this.”
“You were the worst.”
“Thanks.”
She laughs.
“Scottie. This stuff had to cost a lot. I’ll get you some cash.”
“Don’t. I’m not your level of wealthy, but I’ve lived a frugal life and saved almost everything.”
I lift an eyebrow. “What is my level of wealth?”
“Filthy.”
With an easy nod, I hum. “Filthy, huh? Sounds exorbitant.”
Her grin slides off her face, replaced with a tiny frown. “Why didn’t you do chemo?”
“Because what I have is a death sentence, and palliative chemotherapy can do more harm than good. I fell into a rabbit hole of stories from people who beat the odds by lifestyle and diet changes. And by beating the odds, I mean they lived longer than expected, and some are still alive. I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. It’s not death. I’m not afraid of dying, but I’m really fucking terrified of suffering. If staring death in the face isn’t life-changing, then I don’t know what is. So here I am … changing my life. And if I don’t live, I want to go out on my terms.”
Tears fill her eyes, but she manages to keep them from escaping. “Your parents have to be beside themselves.”
“They are. But there’s nothing they can do.”
“Well,” she says, putting on a brave face and blotting her eyes, “you’re going to live.”
“I am.”
“But let’s continue to tip the scale in your favor.” She goes through the supplements, healing stones, essential oils, flower essences, non-toxic deodorant, and other safe body products.
When she pulls out the enema bag, my eyes widen, but she ignores me. Scottie knows her stuff. She’s lived this life, and maybe that’s why she’s single. But I’d rather she honor her true self than bend to anyone.
“Dry brush before you shower. Make sure your strokes go in the direction of your heart. And you really should look into a sauna and red light therapy.”
I stand, jerking my head for her to follow me.
She grins when I show her my red light and sauna in the spare bedroom, along with my rebounder and meditation pillow. After scanning the room multiple times, she faces me. “You don’t have internet.”