Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate (36 page)

“But you can’t be sure that
you
will,” Tyler said, giving Memphis’s chest a small thump. “
Damn
it.”

Tyler dropped his hand. Immediately, Memphis missed his touch. And he hated that he was doing this to the man. But…

“Judas Priest, Memphis.” Tyler shoved a hand through his hair, leaving a few black strands sticking up on top. “You have to at least go and find out what we’re up against―”

“I don’t
want
to know, goddammit,” he shot back, the hit of emotion far too hot.

He reined in the intensity as a stunned silence followed. The look on Tyler’s face was one Memphis had never wanted to see, ever. Maybe the confession had come out a little louder than he’d intended, so he forced a more reasonable tone.

“Don’t you get it?” Memphis asked. “The second time I went back into treatment not knowing how bad it could get. But this time…” He paused for a moment. “Jesus, now I
know
.”

Tyler opened his mouth to say something.

“I won’t do it, Ty,” he said as he shifted backwards. He couldn’t be so close without wanting to touch him. And he needed to focus, because damn it to hell and back, he really needed
someone
to understand this go-round. “I won’t spend what little life I have left in a hospital on chemo and feeling like crap only to wind up losing anyway. I
won’t
let this disease choose how I die.” He dragged in a breath, hating how shaky it felt but proud of the conviction in his tone. “I won’t.” Memphis pressed on, his voice low. “You and I both know how bad the odds are.”

The conflict in Tyler’s eyes was hard to watch. He could see Tyler fighting the need to disagree. And he could also see how much it cost the man that he
couldn’t
.

“I can picture exactly how everything will go down after I hear the doctor’s ugly news and the plans for treatment,” Memphis went on.

Last time, the chemo and the bone marrow transplant and the overwhelming infection had left him completely exhausted. And when he’d died, he’d told his family if it ever happened again they’d better let him go. He’d just wanted to be
done.
But his mother and sisters had sobbed, and his father had been frightened and furious at him for giving up. While his two brothers had panicked.

So where did that leave Memphis?

Alone.

“My family and Julissa will be devastated. They’ll all beg me to fight, no matter how fucked my chances are,” he said, his voice cracked at the edges. Dammit, he didn’t want to fall apart right now. He had a point to make. “And the guilt will drive me to go through with the treatment, because,
hey
, they’re losing someone they
love
, for God’s sake. And the meds will make me feel like shit, totally ruining whatever time I have left. Either that or I’ll crush their spirits when I refuse to fight and that will make me feel like shit,
too
,” Memphis said, and he freaking hated how bleak his tone sounded. “It’s a lose-lose, Ty. The only way to win is to do this on my own terms and simply go on as usual.”

“Christ, Memphis―”

Tyler’s voice broke, and, for a brief moment, he looked on the verge of falling apart. His eyes grew bright, and his face reminded Memphis of the college student from long ago. The one who’d just learned his mother had died. Tyler stared at the Pacific Ocean for a full minute before he scrubbed his face with the back of his hand and then straightened his shoulders.

Tyler stepped forward and cupped the back of Memphis’s neck until they were almost nose-to-nose.

“Keep the doctor appointments,” Tyler said softly, his gaze so close Memphis could see the specks of gold in the gray. “You need to find out more before making the decision to do nothing. And if the news is bad…” He closed his eyes, and Memphis’s throat ached. Several seconds ticked by filled with nothing but bright sunshine, the sound of the ocean, and their breaths between them. “If the news is bad and you decide not to get treatment,” Tyler went on, “I’ll help you deal with your family.”

Well…shit. Stunned, Memphis stared at him. Of course the man he’d left behind before would be the one to understand now. The last of Memphis’s determination all but disintegrated, but he had to ask the difficult question.

“You sure you want to hook your ride to a cursed man?” he said, trying for a wry grin and knowing he probably just looked like he felt, like a freaking coward.

Without warning, Tyler pulled him into a tight hug, and Memphis almost came unglued right then and there.

Tyler, demanding guy that he was, went on anyway. “You are not cursed, and I am
not
leaving,” he said. “And this time, I promise I’ll be here to help you deal. I’ll help you through whatever comes next…no matter what the news,” he said, lips brushing across Memphis’s ear, the words low as his heart thumped even harder. “No matter what you choose to do.”

Jesus Christ, the dude knew just how to reduce him to a mess of girly emotions.

Because Tyler understood what he needed, which meant Memphis wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

This time he wouldn’t feel so
alone
.

Memphis blinked. Tyler centered him like nothing had in weeks, since the first time he’d felt the lump and found himself back on Destiny’s hit list. Memphis pressed his face against Tyler’s neck and smiled. Because in the middle of all the uncertainty and the worry and the fear, he’d found this amazing slice of…joy.

After a little time to recover, he cleared his throat.

“Okay, I’ll go to the appointments. I just need one question answered first,” Memphis said, and Tyler tensed up and pulled back as though gearing up for another fight. Memphis fought to keep from giving anything away. “When I introduce you to these doctors, do I get to drop the
ex
from the front of
ex-boyfriend?
”

A sharp laugh shot from Tyler’s mouth, and he looked so surprised by the sound that Memphis had to grin.

Tyler finally tipped his head, his expression softening. “You’d better.”

“Okay, then,” Memphis said as he smiled and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Thyroid cancer?” Tyler said as he stared at the physician sitting across the desk from him, Memphis gripping his hand so hard Tyler feared his fingers would be permanently fused together.

“You’re sure?” Memphis said with a doubtful frown.

“One hundred percent sure.” The surgeon’s occasional hint of a Texas twang, the black, shaggy haircut, and the solid build brought to mind horses and cattle ranches, not an operating room. “You have stage one papillary thyroid cancer.”

Head spinning, Tyler sat in the large office containing bookshelves crammed with medical texts and dumbly watched the fish swimming in the aquarium, trying to make sense of the news. He felt as though he’d spent a week gearing up for the final, epic battle only to find he’d prepared for the wrong one.

“You have a small tumor that hasn’t spread,” the doctor went on. “Treatment consists of surgery to remove the gland. Following that, radioactive iodine treatment, which is a pill you swallow. Most tolerate that without feeling sick.” Kyland Davis leaned back in his leather chair, the wall behind his head lined with diplomas. “And then you’ll start on thyroid hormone replacement.”

The fish tank gurgled, air bubbles popping on the surface as Tyler struggled to wrap his mind around the development.

“No need for chemotherapy?” he asked.

“No need for chemo.”

No chemo…

As the gap in conversation stretched, everything finally clicked. They’d just received excellent news
.

Stage one.

Small tumor.

Hasn’t spread…

“Thank friggin’ God.” Tyler closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, resting his head against Memphis’s shoulder while keeping a firm grip on his hand.

After a week of a sickening pulse rate, the pounding of Tyler’s heart eased. He’d imagined a dozen different diagnoses—too much knowledge was often a curse—each one more hopeless than the one before.

He’d known there would be no Hollywood ending.

But the words
hasn’t spread
played over and over again in his head as, one by one, Tyler’s taut muscles slowly relaxed. He realized his whole body was sore—a by-product of the tension of the last few days. Memphis was jiggling his knee so hard that Tyler felt the movement through the man’s shoulder. His boyfriend might be sitting, but on the inside he was mentally moving fifty miles an hour.

Why wasn’t he―?

“The operation and radioactive iodine treatment won’t be fun, obviously,” Kyland Davis said. The doctor laid a hand on the impressive stack of Memphis’s old medical records. “But nowhere near as difficult as what you’ve already been through.”

The scoff from Memphis held a hefty dose of skepticism, and Tyler finally realized why the man was still so tense. Apparently he hadn’t absorbed the full meaning of the exchange.

Tyler held tight to his boyfriend’s hand and shifted on the couch to face him, using a tone meant to reassure. “This is good news.”

Memphis turned his gaze to Tyler. And, oh, God, the expression made his heart hurt. Clearly the guy hadn’t comprehended a thing that had just been discussed, probably because he refused to imagine anything less than a death sentence.

The belief was so deeply rooted he couldn’t hear the truth.

“It’s good news, Memphis. Your chances are
way
better than I’d expected,” he said, the too-good-to-be-true words leaving his voice raw.

Playing the boyfriend with nerves of steel, the calm in the middle of a shit storm, had taken its toll. The last thing he wanted to do was break down now. Memphis had joked his way through the scans and indulged in a good-natured bitch session during the blood draws. But the open biopsy performed by Dr. Davis at the hospital—Memphis’s personal kryptonite—had been the worst.

Tyler had coached Memphis on several relaxation techniques. And then the stuntman had surprised the hell out of him by taking the lesson seriously and putting the knowledge to good use.

Until now.

Two beats passed with Memphis’s knee bouncing before he spoke, his gaze fixed on Tyler’s. “So…this isn’t a recurrence of the testicular cancer?”

The look on his face was gut-wrenching. Like the man
wanted
to believe but couldn’t.

“No, no signs of the testicular cancer,” the doctor answered. “Radiation exposure is a risk for developing thyroid cancer. So is a bone marrow transplant. This is a complication from your previous treatments.”

Memphis kept his gaze on Tyler as if his eyes were a lifeline, ignoring the surgeon in the room. So Tyler reached out and placed a calming hand on the jiggling thigh. Apparently, Kyland Davis understood that Memphis needed time to grasp the news, and his measured, steady words continued.

“This is arguably one of the most curable kinds of cancers,” the doctor said. “The cure rate is ninety-seven percent.”

Jesus Haploid Christ. What a beautiful number.

Ignoring the Memphis-like mental fist pump in his mind, Tyler repeated the surgeon’s words, trying to get his boyfriend to process the news. “Ninety-seven percent.”

Memphis cleared his throat before responding, each syllable given special emphasis. “Ninety-seven?” he said, and Tyler nodded. Over the course of several seconds, the leg slowly came to a stop, and Memphis finally went still. Two more beats ticked by. “Well…hell.” A lopsided smile crept up his face, complete with a single dimple. “My day job is riskier than that.”

With a sigh of relief, Tyler gripped Memphis’s T-shirt and pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together. How many times had he imagined that grin wiped away forever? How many times had he pictured the light in those teasing hazel eyes gone? Every night for the past seven days, Tyler had wrapped himself around Memphis and silently hurled obscenities at the universe for bringing them back together only to fuck with their future again. But the odds were good. The odds were very, very good.

Still, he’d take a fraction of a chance with Memphis over an absolute guarantee with anyone else.

They sat together on the couch, heads pressed together. Tyler breathed in the scent of his boyfriend’s shampoo and studied his eyes, memorizing the pattern in the tiny flecks of browns and greens.

“If you stick with me,” Memphis said in a low voice, “you have a three percent chance of going through this again.”

Despite the easy tone, Tyler knew the words were serious.

“I’m sticking with you,” Tyler said firmly. “And there’s a one hundred percent chance you’ll drive me insane.”

“Most likely.”

“And I’ll love every minute of it.” Tyler tried to keep a straight face, but failed. “You know what else this means?” he asked. “The days of my Boyfriend Mandate are definitely over.”

“Halle-freaking-lujah.”

Memphis grinned, and the look in his eyes hit Tyler hard. He was struck with the ridiculous urge to capture Memphis’s smile. To steal a bit of his light and keep it close. So Tyler did the only thing he could do: he slotted their mouths together.

The brief press of lips was simple, more a celebration than a kiss. A confirmation. An affirmation of love and
life
.

His boyfriend pulled back, dimples flashing as he planted another quick kiss on Tyler’s mouth before trying to resume a respectable distance on the couch. After several seconds, Tyler realized his hands were still fisted in Memphis’s shirt, so he forced himself to let go and face forward.

Kyland Davis appeared totally unfazed by the scene he’d just witnessed. “We can talk about scheduling the surgery as an outpatient,” he said. “But I’m sure y’all will have more questions and want a second opinion before moving forward with the procedure.” He pushed his leather chair back and stood. “I’ll also get you the names of the local physicians who specialize in thyroid cancer.”

Clearly eager to leave, Memphis stood and pulled Tyler to his feet.

“It’s lunchtime, so my staff are all on break.” The surgeon rounded his desk and escorted them through the office door. “Have a seat in the waiting room and I’ll find you that list.”