Dead Man's Bluff (23 page)

And she’d just told him she’d had unprotected sex
with a guy that was not her fiancé, and he hadn’t forced her, she had wanted
it. The blood heated in her cheeks. “Please, say something…”

He sighed, leaned forward placing his elbows on his
desk. “Megan, I am not a psychiatrist…you know we’ve discussed you possibly
needing to see one. I can give you the names of several good ones.”

Her gaze dropped to her lap. “So, this qualifies me
as crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Not crazy. Confused. You’ve been through a great
ordeal...a life-changing, image-altering event…combine that with everyday
decisions most of us are forced to make on a daily basis and what you get is
someone really struggling. I can only help you with the physical side, Megan…the
emotional…” Her gaze lifted to his and he gave her that easy smile he was
famous for and shook his head, pulled open the top draw of his desk, a
prescription pad hitting the top of his desk. “Look, I’m going to write down
the name of a morning after pill. You can buy it over the counter now.  I
suggest you take it as soon as you leave here. You’ve been through hell over
the last year and a half…it’s probably not the best time to add an unexpected
pregnancy to the mix.” He tore off the top page passing it to her. “I also
wrote down a couple of doctors I think can help you.”

She swallowed hard, suddenly nauseated. “What if I
decide not to take the pill? Am I healthy enough?”

He stilled, a slight expression of shock crossing
his face. What had he expected? For her to quickly jump at the chance to erase
her mistake? Her brows pulled together, her lips pursed while staring at the
monumental decision placed in her hands. The morning after “great,
unforgettable sex” pill.

 What if it wasn’t a mistake?

“You are healthy enough…physically. Of course, if
you were pregnant you’d have to postpone having reconstructive surgery…but
women who’ve completed their chemo and have no signs of reoccurring cancer have
successfully carried a baby full term. But is that what you want, Megan? By
what you’ve told me you’d be doing this alone…that is a huge commitment. Have
you talked to your fiancé about any of this?” She shook her head, tears
slipping down over her cheeks. “Megan, the morning after pill is nothing more
than a high dosage of birth control. It’s safe, and effective. There’s no shame
in doing what is best for yourself.” ♠

Megan pushed open the bedroom door and instantly felt
a calmness washing over her. This was her safe haven. It might not be the home
she lived in as a small child with her father, but over the years it had become
home. She slowly walked the perimeter of the room mostly bare of her things now.
Her fingers traced the cheerleading trophies and the wood box where she used to
keep her jewelry. Her gaze studied the glimmering diamond a little loose on her
long finder. “Your fingers were meant for the playing the piano,” her high
school music instructor had sniffed one afternoon while listening to her play.
Just like everything else Megan was somewhat decent at, she quit that too.

She thought about her lavender walls and the day she
and her best friend Melody had painted her room together. Melody was a distant
memory, a friend she’d ignored for a boyfriend. It wasn’t that she lacked
loyalty as much as it was that she had no staying power. Anytime something
became too difficult she moved on. She was a teenager just trying to figure it
out with a deceased father and a mother too busy with a new husband to notice.

Every dresser drawer she partially pulled opened was
empty except for one…inside was a photo. It wasn’t a professional photo someone
would buy a special frame for, it was a quick snap shot taken from your average
camera on one of the last days her father was himself. It’d been in a silver
frame on her dresser for years. Her fingers reached for it, tears already
starting to build. How could she have overlooked it, leaving it behind?

A part of her.

Pulling in a shaky breath she went over to the double
bed adorned with her white down comforter and crawled to the center of it
resting her back against the headboard.

Her father was a handsome man before the cancer ate
away at him. He had dark, thick wild hair and shaved his beard only when her
mother forced him too. Most people assumed he was a professor of something or
an artist; he had the look. He wore nice button ups and ties, but nothing about
him was ever neat: his shirt was usually wrinkled because it was one of his
favorites and he had pulled it from the dirty laundry, his tie usually hung
loose from his neck forcing her mother to always try to get him to wear it the
‘professional’ way.

He
laughed a lot.

People
said her father and her shared the same kind of eyes: hazel tranquility at its
best, peaceful… Megan softly laughed out into the room running a fingertip over
the only proof she had left that he ever existed. She imagined him perched at
the foot of the bed clutching his favorite coffee mug; grinning as if he had
all the answers, which usually he did. The tone of her voice was soft, “Nothing
about you was ever peaceful. You were a trouble maker and hardheaded. You drove
mom insane! If she said it was pink…you argued it was magenta. You were both
right of course. You pushed her over a cliff when left. She fell apart, Dad.
Paul brought her back. He’s a decent enough man, he’s not you, but he has a lot
of your traits. He challenges her…” She sniffed. “But that doesn’t mean we’ve
forgotten you. I haven’t forgotten you. I hope you’re in a better place where
there is no more suffering and I hope you still think about us from time to
time...”

A
light tapping on the door caused Megan to quickly bury the photo under the
comforter and smear the streaks of tears away. “Come in,” her voice sounded as
broken as she felt.

“Paul
said you were here for a visit…why didn’t you come out into the back yard?
We’re about to throw a couple of steaks on the grill.”

“I’m
sorry. I needed some time alone.”

A
worried expression crept over her mother’s face as she ambled over to the bed
and sat down on the side. She placed a hand on Megan’s knee. “Uh oh, you’ve
been crying. What has Drew done to upset you?”

“The
fact that you automatically assume my crying has something to do with Drew is
proof.”

“I’m
lost. Proof of what?”

Megan
could feel the hysteria bubbling up inside her. It was irrational to yell at
her mother, but that didn’t stop her. “Proof that he’s no good for me. Why
didn’t you suspect it was Conner who’d made me cry? He is my fiancé’…maybe he’s
called off the wedding! Maybe he’s finally realized I’m a catastrophe waiting
to happen!”

Lillian
reached out and dragged Megan to her, cradling her trembling, sobbing form next
to her chest. “Shh, it’s okay.” She gently laughed. “This is nonsense. You’re
not a catastrophe waiting to happen. Whatever gave you that idea?”

Pushing
away from her mother, Megan inhaled a deep calming breath. She was on an
emotional rollercoaster without seat belts and it had to end. “I’ve already
ruined my one chance at happiness.”

“You
haven’t ruined anything.”

“Trust
me, I have. I don’t want to feel this way; it frightens the hell out of me.”

“How
do you feel, Meg?”

“I
feel like someone has jabbed a balled up fist into the cavity of my chest where
they’ve taken hold of my beating heart ripping it from its safe place.”

“Wow.
Is this someone Drew?”

“I
don’t want to fear losing something or someone so much that it consumes me.”

“That’s
what love is, Megan. You lay it all out there… no matter the outcome. We’re all
afraid.”

“He
doesn’t know how to love. All he knows is how to possess and destroy and
walkaway. It’s what he’s been taught. Why did this have to happen? I was happy
with Conner!!”

“You
were safe with Conner.”

“Why
do you encourage me so much to go down a road you know will lead to heartbreak
and misery? Is it because he reminds you of dad? Is that why you’re so
persistent? Because from where I’m sitting I don’t think that turned out so well,
do you?”

“I
was extremely happy with your father! The man was capable of giving me chills
just by looking at me from across the room and he could infuriate me like no
one else!”

Sarcasm
dripped in her every word, “AND THAT WAS A GOOD THING? And in case you’ve
repressed the memory… HE DIED!”

Lillian
expression softened, “Yes, he did. But, even if I would have known the ending…
I still would have wanted to be with him. Is this about Drew possibly breaking
your heart… or are you afraid you may break his.”

Megan’s
lowered her eyes to her lap. “The cancer could come back. Everyone was always
saying how much dad and I were alike…”

Lillian
gathered her daughter’s hands in hers and forced their eyes to meet. “You’re
right about the Drew thing. He does remind me of your father, but not in the
way you might think. It’s the way he looks at you, like your father used to
look at me. I believe you underestimate what he’s capable of. Have you ever
thought that maybe the lack of love in his life will make him appreciate it
more when he has it?”

Megan
shook her head. “You have way too much faith in him.”

“Do
I? Why don’t you let Drew decide whether he wants to take the risk? We’re all
taking risk, Megan. Nobody knows how long they have. The best advice I can give
you is to love deeply and passionately while you can. Playing it safe gets you
nothing but a lifetime of dull.”

“It
doesn’t really matter. I think Drew has already made the decision for the both
of us. I suspect he’s already drunk and passed out in some other girl’s bed by
now.”

“So,
does this mean you’re still marrying Conner?” ♠

Two
hours later

Megan
was lying on her side on her bed, staring sad-like at the ring sparkling on her
left hand. It looked foreign on her slender finger. It was loose. Incredibly
loose. Sometimes she felt as it was going to slip right off and she’d never
find it again. Did that small detail hold some kind of meaning? She
distractedly slid the band up over her knuckle to the finger nail, and then
returned it to its proper place at the base of her finger, repeating the same
pointless action over and over as if it would somehow give her clarity.

Her
mother and Paul had tried their best to get her to eat a steak, but she’d
nearly puked from the smell of the meat sizzling on the grill.

She
may ever eat again.

Or
smile.

It
was the same as before, there was an emptiness inside of her, an indescribable
hollow ache. She tried to convince herself she’d been happy without Drew
Mackenzie, but the truth was…she’d accepted a life without him, accepting and
happy were two totally different things, miles apart. 

And
what of Conner? How did she feel about him? She remembered the first time she’d
met him. Nurses had been buzzing in every direction, white sneakers squeaking
over polished floors, passing by her sitting out there in the hallway of the
hospital in a wheel chair wearing one of those bland hospital gowns and an ugly
pink-cotton-candy-colored terry-cloth robe. Her nurse had parked her there
saying she’d be right back, right back turned into an embarrassing long time.
She was being discharged in a couple of hours and her mother would anxiously be
waiting to drive her home. Her breast still throbbed from the surgery and
tightly bandaged, at the time she’d thought the worst of over, but little did
she know the worse was still ahead.

Anyways,
there were still a few labs and test they felt needed to be completed before she
was discharged, which resulted in a wheelchair ride that took her helplessness
to a whole new level.

“It
can’t be as bad as it looks,” was suddenly whispered near her ear, a deep sexy
voice that had her blushing before she even saw the whole package that went
with the voice.

“Excuse
me?” she muttered, confused and caught off guard by the smell of his cologne.

He
stepped around where she could see him: 6’ 2”, messy dirty blonde hair, blue
eyes that held a certain amount of mirth, and a cocky stance—arms folded over a
broad chest, feet apart. He kind of rocked where he stood grinning at her. The
clothes were typical hot guy—faded jeans, and a short sleeve navy T-shirt that showed
off his bulging biceps and matched the shade of his eyes.