Page 160 of Game Plan

I shook my head, my complicated emotions held only by a flimsy thread. My need to run away had lessened, but I wasn’t sure how to tell him what the doctor had said over the phone. “No. It’s not…it’s not that. My fears have nothing to do with my decision. I want a little time to think. Away from everything... A little time to get my thoughts and my life in order.”

“Why would you need to do that?”

I gave him a half dismissive shrug. I had to come up with a smart explanation that would sound realistic. “Too much stuff’s going on. I feel like we’re moving too fast.” I wanted to facepalm myself. Seriously? This was the best I could come up with? Oh yeah, because I didn’t want to break up with him. I needed him. More than ever. I was just too stubborn—or too scared—to tell him what was happening and how I felt.

“I don’t believe you. You’re lying to me right now. I can tell. No more bullshit. Spill the truth.”

Once again, he saw right through my lies.

“I love you, Mase. I will forever do, but how can you be sure we’re doing the right thing here? That we’re right for each other?”

“Right for each other? Are you hearing yourself?” He jumped to his feet, pacing across the room. “You whispered the opposite to me when you woke up this morning after I made you come all over my fingers.”

I stood up and folded my arms over my chest. “Well, it was the post-sex bliss doing the talking. It’s not how I feel right now. Maybe we should take a break for real or something if you’ve decided to fight me on this.”

“Fight you on this?”

“Some time apart might do us some good. You have a big game coming up, and you gotta focus on that. I don’t wanna be a distraction.”

“STOP. I’m not having it. A distraction? That’s a load of crap, and you know it. Tell me what’s going on for real. Are you dying and trying to protect me? I feel like I’ve stepped into an alternate reality. Nothing you say adds up.”

I blinked. “No. No one is dying. I’m just… I don’t know, okay?” My need to flee the scene returned. I had to get out of here. I had to be away from him before I spilled it all out and created more chaos in our lives. “One day, you’ll realize I spoke the truth.”

I whirled around, but before I could bolt, he grabbed my wrist to halt my escape. With his other hand, he lifted the hem of the hoodie I was wearing, revealing my bare stomach. He examined me without saying a word. Next, he ran his hand along my arm, starting at my shoulder, down to my fingertips, his attention on my nails. He lowered the neckline of my sweatshirt, exposing my collarbones.

I sucked in a breath, not sure what to do.

Mason fisted my hair, his gaze trailing all over the length of my neck, my cheeks, my eyes.

Then it dawned on me. He was checking if I had relapsed. The last time I’d kicked him out of my life, it was because I was trying to hide my body dysmorphia from him.

“I’m not sick,” I told him in a whispered voice. “It’s not like that this time around. My nails aren’t brittle, and my hair isn’t thinning, and you won’t find bluish fingertips or dark circles under my eyes.”

His throat worked, and his eyes filled with moisture. “What is it then? I know there’s something you’re not telling me. This is how you act when you think I can’t handle the truth. You try to run away or keep me out of the loop, thinking you’re protecting me. Talk, I’m listening.”

My heart fractured at his sight. Every ounce of energy left me. I sank onto the bed, hollow and aching with sadness. Hiding my face in my palms, I cried. My sobs turned into hiccups. Mason sat next to me, not saying a word. He pressed his forehead to my shoulder as if he was trying to not only steal my pain away but was also willing to wait until I was ready to confide in him.

“The night we went back to the ER... You know… The bleeding…” Hiccup. “As the doctors told us then, the bleeding could have been a very early miscarriage, but they couldn’t say for sure. The blood tests didn’t show high enough hormone levels to confirm a pregnancy…”

“And we’ve been safe all along, so they told us it could mostly be the result of the trauma, something that might not have shown up on the ultrasound.”

“Right.”

“So what about it?”

“They got…they got the results from the MRI and all the tests, blood work, and everything they’ve investigated in the last week. They wanna see me…after the holidays to discuss stuff.”

“Okay. Did they drop any hint what this was about?”

“Not really… They wouldn’t answer my questions over the phone. They said it was not an emergency per se, but that we needed to sit down together soon and go over the results and discuss what it meant for me going forward. It may sound silly, but I could tell it was bad. That I’m broken somehow. They didn’t tell me that all is fine and that I can move on. They said we need to discuss. Discuss, Mase. Which means, sit down and talk about it. Going forward means it’s gonna impact my life and my future. I’m not overreacting. Something’s going on.”

“Mel, listen to me, you are not broken. If it were an emergency, they would have insisted on seeing you as soon as possible.”

“I don’t…I don’t know…”

“If it were any other time of the year, I’m sure they would have scheduled a much sooner appointment. Maybe the doctor is going on a trip to Hawaii and doesn’t want to miss it.”

“Maybe. But what if it really is serious and I need care ASAP?”