Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Regan blanches and sinks onto the couch, slowly shaking her head. “See… this is such a stupid idea.”
“Lance named me as your guardian if he died,” I murmur, pulling out my last ace. This won’t be news to her as she had to administer his estate. I’m sure she saw it in his will. He’d told me about it when he’d had it done up years ago. Granted… that was if he died while you were still a minor, but his intent was clear. He wanted me to take care of you if he couldn’t, and that is exactly what I’m going to do, Regan. Please don’t make it so I dishonor that memory.”
They’re the words that were needed. I can see the capitulation in the way her shoulders sink, and I hate she’s so averse to coming to Phoenix with me. But I know deep in my gut I’m doing the right thing. Wherever Lance is, he’s nodding his approval right now.
“Fine,” she finally says on a huff of resignation. She stands, not putting her eye to eye with me but moving in close enough I can’t mistake the determination in her eyes. “I’ll come to Phoenix. I’ll marry you so I can get my treatment. I’ll live in your house.”
“You’ll love Phoenix—”
“Whatever,” she interrupts dismissively, never letting me forget she’s not happy about the need for this. “But I want this kept a secret. It’s distasteful to me that we’re scamming the system.”
“We’re saving your life, Regan.” That comes out in a low, furious growl that has her blinking in surprise. “Fuck the system. They shouldn’t make a medication that costs almost half-a-million goddamn dollars a year just so you can live.”
She inclines her head, causing some of her lustrous hair to fall over her shoulder. It’s so soft looking. I itch to touch it, and I realize all at once… this is going to be a problem for me to have her in my home.
Going to be an absolute monster of a problem.
“Fine,” she agrees softly, and my attention goes from her hair to the stunningly soft lips she presses against my cheek after going to her tiptoes. Her hands rest lightly on my shoulders, and I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the feeling right now. She pulls away, catching my eye. “We’re saving my life, but I still want it kept secret. Tell people I’m taking some time away after Lance’s death and just hanging out with you for a while.”
“I can do that,” I agree.
And it appears that was about as romantic of an engagement as Regan is going to get. A pang of guilt hits me in the chest, but I dismiss it.
Like we just agreed.
We’re saving her life.
CHAPTER 3
Regan
I set the photo of Lance and me on the dresser, running my finger over the silver edge of the frame as I stare at it. It was taken just a year ago when he’d come out to California for a game and we’d gone out to dinner after. Our waiter took it. Lance and I are smiling broadly, and that’s because it looked like my life was turning out a lot differently than what we’d first thought after getting my PNH diagnosis.
Only a few days before Lance had come out to California, Salvistis had received FDA approval and my insurance company had set me up with a case manager to start a treatment plan. Lance was smiling because his little sister would not die, and let’s face it… I was smiling mostly for the same reason.
But also because I was simply happy to be with my brother. He and I were tighter than tight, given the fact he took over raising me after our parents died. I’d only been fourteen and he hadn’t been much of a seasoned adult at only nineteen, but he’d made me feel safe and secure. My life changed so drastically. Losing my mom and dad and then having to move almost immediately to New York where Lance was playing for the Vipers. I went from a middle-class suburban home to a Manhattan condo—from doting and somewhat stifling parents to a brother who traveled a lot.
During that time, I had a nanny to stay with me to ensure I went to school and ate healthy meals. As I got older, the nanny sort of went by the wayside and I would often stay with friends Lance approved of and who had proper parental units involved. We made it work. Even though I was alone a lot of the time, I never felt that way. Lance and I spoke or FaceTimed at least once a day and texted what seemed like a million times more. Even after I moved to California to go to college, our contact never lessened. He was brother, mother, father, and a best friend to me. Sometimes the grief over his loss hurts so bad I can’t breathe.