Mika

 

 

I’m trembling as I sit in the cool office of one Doctor Forbes and wait for him to come in, my mind going in a million different directions as the minutes tick by slowly, and all I have to stare at is a breast cancer poster warning of the signs to look out for when performing a self-examination.

I do one of those once a week, my sex ed class and the doctors words a constant drumbeat in my head since I walked out of the hospital with warnings never to feel as if I’m free of the dreaded rogue cells.

I really do not need to see the words though because they only make my heart beat harder with the what-ifs I’ve been carrying around for a week. He finally comes in after another ten minutes of interminable waiting, and I feel my heart sink when he takes his seat and looks at me somberly.

“It’s back?” I breathe, swallowing the lump that’s been in my throat since I woke up this morning.

I had the CT and blood work and so many other tests I feel like a pin cushion, and now, here I am to get the results, and words I’ve played out over and over again in my head.

In the first one, I get to see him smile and give me a high-five and lollipop before I skip out of the hospital amidst musical-esque singing from the staff, my own voice strangely sweet as opposed to the off-key wails I am capable of.

In that one, I’m singing Britney Spears’s Stronger and the nurses are grinding and twerking in their scrubs.

In the other scenario, I see him look at me just as he is now and shatter my world apart.

“Your counts are high, Mika. We need to check on something we caught on your scans.”

“What is it?” I ask, needing everything because not knowing it all makes it worse.

Mom and Dad tried to keep the severity of my cancer away from me at first, but all that did was make me anxious and certain that I was dying fast.

Knowing makes me stronger, and as the words filter through my head, I smile because that thought is so much Harlan that I feel better in a way. He’s strong and smart and sexy, and I trust his words. He’s right. Be prepared.

“We saw something on one of your fallopian tubes that has us concerned. We need to get in there and test for cancerous cells,” he says softly, almost kindly, because I am not holding up well despite the clenched lips and the determination not to cry.

This is it, then, huh? I’ve spent years being afraid of something, and it’s finally here? Oh God. I don’t think I can deal with all of this. Not the attack and subsequent move to be more independent and strong in the face of adversity, not the growing attraction I have for Harlan that has turned my life upside down at a time when I need calm. Definitely not having to face the possibility of being sick again.

“I don’t want you to cut me.”

I’ve heard horror stories about exploratory surgery making cancer spread like wildfire, and I won’t take that risk.

“We won’t, Mika. Doctor Groves and I will use a keyhole to collect a small sample, and then we’ll run the tests. I want to remind you that this could just be the damage you sustained from the treatments. We already know that you won’t have children and that your reproductive system is shot. This could just be benign tumors or—”

“PCOS or scarring from previous surgeries. I know all this, but it doesn’t make it any better to think about,” I say.

“No, but knowing is a lot better than ignoring it and finding out in a few months that things could have been avoided,” he says gently.

“Avoided? I know what will happen if you find something, Doc,” I mumble.

They’ll want to remove everything, and yeah, okay, it doesn’t work, and it’s the equivalent of carrying around a broken CD player inside me, but I don’t want to lose the one part of me that makes me a woman.

I may never have kids. I know this, but the ten percent chance they gave me of ever being a mom is better than zero, and I don’t want to end up at zero!

Is that hard to understand? That percentage is all I lived for after I recovered. It took months to regrow my hair and pick up the weight. Months to feel whole again, even knowing that the treatments had broken parts of me I couldn’t fix.

I couldn’t deal with giving up on children then, and I won’t do it now. I can’t. I see my friends all falling in love, my sister falling in love, and talking about kids, and all I can think is I won’t ever have that.

Well, not ever. But I am aware that the chances are slim. I want a husband and children and all that stuff that makes up the American dream.

I deserve that chance. If this takes it all away, I don’t know that I will survive this time.

“Mika, you could die if we find something and we don’t do something. You know that.”

Oh, I do, but what the hell would I care then, huh?

“Lots of survivors have beat the odds and had families,” I say, my eyes burning when he smiles that sad smile I am so used to and nods.

“Yes, but many have had children only to find themselves fighting again. I don’t want to scare you, Mika, and the chances here are fifty-fifty, better than most, but if it’s come back and it’s in your uterus or your tubes, then you know what needs to happen.”

I do, but I don’t want to accept it, and it’s with that refusal that I make an appointment for ‘the small procedure in three weeks’ and walk out of the hospital.

I don’t know where to go from here. I just don’t. Going home now would only make things worse because I’d stare at the walls and brood and think a hundred of the worst-case scenarios my brain can come up with.

Going to work is a no-go too because Lynx knows I was going in for testing and he’ll be waiting to hear the outcome. Thank God he promised to keep it to himself or God knows I’d be walking out of here musical-free and looking at Leila, who will probably start crying and having a nervous breakdown.

I start walking with no direction in mind and end up at the little park across the street, my legs just taking me while I feel like I’m struggling through a fog.

I fall onto a bench after a little while and sit, staring at the green grass and the beauty around me.

“It’s bad news?”

I look up to see Hawk standing over me, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak because I will not cry and I know I will if I say it out loud.

He sighs, cursing as he closes his eyes, and sits down beside me. He doesn’t touch me anywhere but where our thighs meet, and for that, I’m grateful because I can’t take comfort now.

I’m too pissed off and unstable to deal with him going all soft on me.

“Well, you know, so at least that’s something.”

“Sure, if something entails knowing that you have shit growing in your uterus, then I guess so,” I mutter, letting out a breath.

“Talk, Mika,” he grunts, making my lips twitch because, damn, the man is a gruff, insensitive bastard, and it’s just what I need right now.

“They found a mass on one of my tubes, and they want to do a biopsy. I have to go under in three weeks’ time so they can run tests to rule out cancer, but if it is what they think it is, then they take it all.”

“So, what’s the huge problem? They find something and they clear it all out. That’s good, Mika.”

“Good?” I yell, finally getting the outlet that I need. “You think it’s good that the last iota of a chance I have to have children is gone?”

Hawk looks at me, those pale eyes burning into me, and says something that makes me so mad I should hit him using the stuff Harlan has taught me.

“Living is more important than shooting out the next generation. Fuck having kids. Fuck being a mom. You have to be alive to do that shit, Mika!”

“I don’t want to live without the possibilities,” I shout, pushing his hand away when he tries to take mine. “It’s not fair. It’s just not fair. I went through hell to live, and now the tiny chance I have to actually have what I want is going to disappear.”

This is the part where I expect, and maybe need, him to tell me that it’s going to be okay, that the mass will be benign and I will miraculously be okay and go on to have seven babies of my own.

“Life isn’t fair, and if you don’t already know that by now, then I pity you, woman. You lived, and you have a chance here to live a long life. Why focus on something that probably won’t ever happen, when you can think about what can be? You might not like me saying this, and you know what, tough shit! You should be fucking grateful for what you have and set your mind to fixing what you can instead of dreaming about what can’t be.”

His honesty is jarring, and I want to hate him so much I tremble with it. But this is Hawk, and if I’d wanted or expected bullshit and positive lies, then I should be talking to Leila and my parents.

“You’re a bastard,” I mutter, looking away because I know what he’s telling me is true.

Hawk deals in the facts, and he doesn’t ever say something he doesn’t believe. Hearing him say it all is a reality check I can’t avoid, and I slump back against the bench tiredly.

“I know, but I’m an honest bastard who won’t lie to you. If you want lies, I am not the guy to talk to,” he says, watching my face and not once flinching.

That lack of emotion and coddling comforts me in a weird way, and I feel my lips twitch when he glares at me.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“You. Me. Life. You know, I didn’t think for one second that you would be the person to make me feel better. You’re rude and insensitive and grouchy whenever I’m around, but you’re also the only person in my life that I can trust to be honest. The others all want to coddle me and pretend it’s all fine, but you make me face the facts head-on and find a way to deal with them,” I say, leaning my head against his shoulder because I am so tired suddenly.

The last week has been a test of my resolve, and I’ve hardly slept as I counted down the hours. The tests were terrible to get through alone, but at least I got through them, and now I am here, facing it all again.

But this time I get to have Hawk yelling at me to live instead of crying and the guilt that I felt because I was tearing people apart.

“Lying, pretending, bright-siding life is bullshit. I tried to bright-side the fuck out of it eight years ago, and you know what I learned? It only prolongs the inevitable. You want soft words? Go talk to Lyon or the others. You want the truth? I’m here. I will be here if you need me, any time, for however long.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s discuss your resignation.”

Oh God.

“What’s to discuss? By now everyone in the state has heard Leila yelling at me about getting my ass kicked at work. I just thought I should move on and do something that will—”

“Make life easier for her and Lynx and Pop and maybe even the mailman?” he demands, scowling when I look up at him guiltily.

“Do you want to quit working for Pop and Lynx? And don’t say what you think I want to hear, Mika. Tell it straight.”

“No.”

I really don’t. I like my job and the guys who treat me with respect. Heck, I got a box of chocolates from Raul last week as a gift because they all felt like hell that I got hurt.

I want to stay and be happy and do the job I know how to do. But in doing so, I create worry for others that I don’t want to be responsible for.

“Then, stay,” he says simply.

“Agh! You’re so black and white, you know that? If I stay on, then chances are your brother or father will kill someone. It may not be this week or month or year, but you know how it goes, working with men, being the only woman. Most see me as a ballbuster with a weak side, and others see me as a target.”

Which is not true anymore because no matter how weak they may think I am, I now know how to mash a man’s potatoes, but good.

“So? Let Lynx kill them. A lot of places on a building site where a body can disappear.”

“Hawk, be serious,” I mutter, giggling because I sure would love for Alfred to disappear so I won’t have to testify against him in the next few months.

I felt awful about pressing charges against him, but Lynx was adamant, and he’s right. Feeling sorry for the guy and his family won’t change the decision he made. He chose to attack me, he chose to hurt me, and so, he will face up to it.

It doesn’t make it easier though when his wife showed up at the site with her three kids and begged me to drop the charges.

“I am serious, and you know it. What? You thought I left the mob and suddenly turned into a boy scout with tender feelings?” he snorts, making me laugh harder because tender just isn’t in his vocabulary.

“No. Hey, wanna get out of here and go have a burger and a gallon of booze with me?”

“Lead the way, kid.”

 

 

Hawk

 

Mika is a strong woman. It’s all I can keep thinking as I watch her devour a double cheese burger and fries while she puts away two shots of tequila and a beer I made her order instead of a double rum and coke like she usually drinks.

I’m eating, watching her, and listening to her crow about some guy she met in self-defense classes. I don’t like it, at all, but I’m just happy to see her smiling again, and it does me good to be reminded that we’re not…an item.

Not that I think that, but come on. I didn’t exactly sit outside the hospital for three hours waiting on her because I feel the warm fuzzies of friendship.

If I want friends, I’ll go to work and shoot the shit while pumping iron. Nah, I want her, and part of me couldn’t stay away, so I sat out in my truck like a bum and waited for her.

When she stepped out of the hospital, she railed and shook her fist at a nurse, demanding to know why she couldn’t just get the Britney version of things.

I laugh now because I don’t get it, and I don’t think she even knows she scared that nurse half to death. Shock will do that, make you unaware of everything but what you’re feeling.

“He sounds like a player,” I snarl when she tells me about how her hot instructor asked her out after the first class.

“Oh, he does not. He’s sweet,” she protests, tossing a fry at me.

I catch it with my mouth and grin while I chew because she huffs and bites into her burger as if it’s my head she’s chewing.

“Sweet my ass. Did he cop a feel during class?”

“We were training.”

“Sure. So, he touched your breasts.”

She blushes, and I smirk knowingly, my superiority masking a vile anger that has me seeing this guy and breaking every finger he owns.

“It was just a graze.”

“Of your nipple?” I press.

“Yes! Okay, fine, he touched my nipple.”

“Told ya. Player.”

“He isn’t.”

“Is too. Let’s review the facts, shall we? He stroked your neck before he even knew your name. He pinned you down, a beginner in an advanced self-defense class before he even showed you how to counter the attack. He touched your breast, ahem, nipple, and he asked you out after making eyes at you. Player,” I state firmly, knowing I will break his legs if I lay eyes on him.

Because I’m jealous and not at all happy with knowing she’s attracted to some dumb piece of ass with no morals and wandering hands. What? I’m a concerned friend.

“Fine, but so what? I liked him, and I am going on a date with him on Friday.”

“Today’s Friday,” I snarl, my plans to take her home and skinny dip in Lynx’s pool suddenly evaporating when she grins and gives me a satisfied smirk.

“Yep. I’m gonna go out, have a nice time, and maybe get inappropriate with my hot instructor. I need something good and wild after this morning.”

She sounds not at all repentant about telling me she’s gonna have sex with a virtual stranger, and I narrow my eyes at her and growl my denial.

“You can’t go out with him tonight. You’re vulnerable and not thinking clearly.”

“Oh, but I am. I’m thinking I’m getting me an orgasm and maybe a cuddle before Mr. Player splits.”

“Be serious, Mika,” I shout, throwing the bartender a glare when he looks over at us and frowns.

“Fine,” she huffs, sighing and rolling her eyes. “I’ll only go to second base.”

“Mika.”

“Okay, okay. I’m just joshing you, you old grumpy pants. I didn’t say yes to him yet. I told him I’d see him again next week.”

The admission settles me, and I tell myself it’s because she shouldn’t be making any decisions or doing anything hasty when she is clearly vulnerable and not thinking clearly.

Except the skinny dipping, I grunt, laughing silently at the thought that I’m trying to cock block the woman because I want to have her. All to myself.

“Come home with me. We can watch movies and skinny dip in Lynx’s pool at midnight.”

Her grins fades, and I see her pause before she gets a load of my blank expression and falls into the trap.

“‘Kay, but if he sees my butt, I will never forgive you.”

“Don’t care. Forgiveness is for losers who care about other people’s feelings.”

Her grunt of disgust makes me smile, and I feel everything in me shift that I made her laugh and smile after the terrible morning she’s had.

“You know, I wish I was more like you.”

“How so?”

“You just say what you want and screw the consequences. I know you must care about other people, hell, at least your family, but you never seem to buckle under the pressure. You just say and do what you want and to hell with the consequences.”

I disagree. It’s not that I don’t care or even like hurting people with my words. I’m only human, and I understand pain. It’s just that I can’t bring myself to lie when I know it won’t help. I lied to myself for years, telling my family and the voice inside me that I was happy living as I did and I didn’t care that I was giving up years of my life to do something that wouldn’t change what had happened.

I’m not like my brothers, who felt fulfilled after killing Ariston, the man who had Sparrow taken out. I was just numb and relieved that he was gone so that I could be free.

If that makes me a heartless bastard, then so be it, but it doesn’t change anything. Sparrow is still dead, I’m still angry about Bear making a decision I didn’t want to have to make, and the rest is all history.

“Don’t change, Mika. I like who you are.”

And I will like it even better when I’m balls deep inside her showing her that she can have an orgasm. With me.