She smiled. “Kiss me, Ren Wild. Make love to me. Promise me you’ll never let me go.”
So I did.
And I promised.
And I never let go.
* * * * *
Another week passed, slipping us back into routine.
Della spent more time with Cassie discussing horses and Cassie’s future dream of one day opening an equine business, and I returned to my odd jobs around the farm.
The air was cooler now, making the frustrating ache in my chest three times worse.
Some days, I barely noticed it.
But then some days, like today, I felt as if lunch lodged in my throat and wouldn’t swallow. I willingly coughed, trying to eradicate the obstruction, forcing deeper coughs and longer barks, begging for a reprieve from the pressure.
It was there, while I hung onto a stable door, bent over trying to clear the weight in my lungs, that John found me.
I thought I was on my own.
I refused to cough so badly in people’s presence because I knew how annoying the noise could be.
But as John stomped toward me in his dirty overalls and a rusty tool kit to lend a hand, I’d destroyed any hope of stopping, thanks to willingly encouraging a coughing fit.
His eyes tightened as I held up my hand, swallowing back wracking heaves, clamping my other hand over my mouth and doing my best to stop.
“Ren?” John placed his tool kit on the cobblestones, coming to put a hand on my back as I rode out the final waves of affliction. “Take it easy.” His gaze travelled to the hose in the corner, his body swaying in its direction. “Want some water? Choking on something?”
I shook my head, smothering yet another cough and standing up with a gasp. “I’m—” A couple more coughs caught me unaware, lashing my chest with pain. Finally, when I could breathe again, I said, “I’m fine.” Smiling with watery eyes, I inhaled deep, fighting the tickle to cough again. “Just hay dust.”
Turning, I reached for the nails that I’d been using to fix a loose hinge only for John to fist my wrist.
“What is that?” His fingers latched tight, cutting off my arteries.
“Don’t touch me.” I tugged, feeling a residual thread of panic from being held against my will. No matter how many years passed, I doubted I’d fully have control over my attacks.
“Goddammit, Ren. What the hell is this?” He held up my palm, shoving it under my nose.
Red.
Liquid.
Blood.
My blood.
Fuck.
I froze, running my tongue over my lip and tasting the nasty flavour of copper. My eyes met his, and I broke beneath the love there. The love he had for me. And the worry. Shit, the worry.
“It’s okay, John.” I yanked my hand free, wiping the blood on my jeans. “Don’t—”
Fisting his keys from his overalls pocket, he grabbed my bicep, once again layering me with a fissure of fear. “We’re leaving. Right now.”
“Leaving? To go where?” He pulled me from the stable.
So many parts of me wanted to shove him to the ground for manhandling me, but I understood his violence came from panic just like my panic came from violence.
“Doctor.” His eyes welled with fury and impatience. “You’ve been coughing ever since you got back home. I’m not putting up with it anymore.”
“But what about Della?” I twisted my arm free, raising my eyebrow when he tried to hold on to me. “Let go, John. I won’t ask again.” My gritted teeth and feral tone hinted I wasn’t coping.
He dropped his hand but didn’t stop his fast pace to the barn doors. “She’s with Cassie. They popped into town to see Chip at work. We have time.”
“I-I can’t make her worry.”
He stopped, turning to face me. “And you can’t make me worry, Ren. I’m not losing you like I lost Patricia. I love you like a son, but if you don’t see a doctor, I will kick you out of my house, so help me God.”
I smirked. “Winter is close. You wouldn’t dare.”
He didn’t smile back. “Try me. Now get your ass in the truck.”
* * * * *
It was as if my lungs knew they had an audience because I hadn’t been able to ignore the tickle and wheeze since John drove me above normal speed limits to his local practitioner.
There was no discussion over identifications or money.
No discussions period as his regular doctor called his name ten minutes after we arrived, and we were ushered into a small white office with posters of body parts and skeletons on the wall.
To start with, I resented John for dragging me down here.
I worried if Della was safe and what time she’d be home.
What would she do if she found scattered tools and no workmen to use them?
What the hell would I tell her about John’s kidnapping and the blood stain on my jeans?
But then those questions switched to others that made my heart pound a little bit harder.