“So, what was she doing at the hospital, then?” he asked, this time a little more upbeat before the implications of what wasn’t being said, began to slowly settle in.Ah, shit. “Was… Was she visiting someone?”
Please let her have been visiting a friend.
“No, she wasn’t,” Buck responded with something akin to regret in his tone.
Vincent braced. He didn’t like how this sounded. Not one bit.
“Just tell me,” he rasped out.
“Lace is a cancer patient, Vince. She was at the hospital for her weekly chemo infusion.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Seriously? Getting off the couch shouldn’t be so hard.
Maybe she could just sleep here tonight…
Nope. That would suck.
Lace had a strict agenda she promised herself she’d follow, and she wasn’t going to start screwing up now. After completing week seven of her treatments, she still had over four months left to go. If she let her strict parameters slide now, all bets were off that she wouldn’t just divorce herself from the world soon, and wallow in her living room for the duration.
Lace pictured her couch and floor littered with tissues, containers of half-eaten food, red cups strewn about, dog-eared books, and stray, crumpled clothing tossed willy-nilly.
Not happening.
Lace forced herself into a sitting position, determined to motivate and make something for supper. Even though the thought of food made her gurgling stomach protest, she knew from experience if she didn’t eat, she’d be dead on her feet tomorrow, and the crew might be tempted to throw her overboard.
Octonauts to the rescue.
Not.
The fishing industry certainly didn’t stoporsend anthropomorphic animals to the rescue for upset tummies.
It didn’t stop for anything, if it could be helped, especially this time of year. It was the high season, from August to October, for tuna fishermen. As long as the weather cooperated without hurricane force winds, and the sea didn’t swallow them up, work could span a full seven-day week, and those days could be long. Sometimes eighteen hours.
Luckily, the boat with which she was currently working was a smaller one, and even though there were no days off for most of the crew, they tended to be out no more than twelve to fourteen hours each day. The fact that Lace had been able to talk her big bosses in Orono into letting her have a chemo-break once a week was the total extent of any wiggle room she had.
Fish didn’t count themselves.
One fish, two fish…
Laughter bubbled up inside Lace.
Yup.That had been one of her favorite childhood books. Who knew it would become her life?
Lace finally managed to drag her exhausted ass to the kitchen, and the first thing she did was put the kettle on for some tea. That would hit the spot, and hopefully soothe her complaining stomach.
Opening the door to her refrigerator, she spotted all the fixings for a nice garden salad. It didn’t sound all that appealing, but it didn’t make her gorge rise, so therewasthat. If she rounded out her salad with a ground-chicken burger on a toasted bun, that should more than fill her up.
Done.
Taking a frozen patty from the large stash she kept in the freezer, Lace placed it in a pan on low, then covered it to do its thing while she made her salad.
On automatic pilot while she broke up lettuce, Lace finally let her mind wander back to Vincent Sothard.
Right.A Sothard. She should have figured that. Even as a clown, the man had been a knockout. But who knew there was yet another brother coming out of the woodwork? Not Lace. If she’d gone to Bobbie’s wedding she might have noticed. But she’d been off on assignment with a large commercial ship out of Portsmouth, and hadn’t been able to take the time off.
If she had…