Page 1 of When You're Gone
Chapter one
Tori
“Baby,yournewboobslook amazing in that suit.”
Heat crawled up her neck and flushed her cheeks, but the warmth spreading through her had nothing to do with the 104-degree water. She tried to keep her composure as a wave of self-consciousness bubbled up. She subtly adjusted the cups of her halter top, glancing down to ensure everything was still in its proper place. Once she was satisfied, she shot Jake a glare.
“Seriously?”
He smirked and raised the Gatorade bottle to his mouth, savagely popping it open with his teeth before taking a long swig. He’d already refreshed his beverage twice, so she knew he was feeling good—and was obviously unfiltered—tonight.
“What? I meant it as a compliment.”
Now it was her turn to smirk. He may have meant it as a compliment, but she knew when he was goading her.
She was only half-submerged in the hot tub. She had just gotten the “all clear” to resume normal activity that morning at her final post-op appointment for her nerve-preserving prophylactic mastectomy. While technically she could go all the way in now, she was still hesitant to do so.
“Have you had any occurrences of sensation?” Dr. Brennan had asked.
Occurrences of sensation. Tori had barely managed to hold back a snicker. Dr. Brennan was a dual-trained oncologist and plastic surgeon, not a spin doctor. Yet it felt like she was making light of what was turning out to be one of the oddest and most frustrating experiences of Tori’s life.
“I felt a sharp pain in the shower earlier this week,” she recalled. “It was so intense it took my breath away. I just sort of froze, too scared to move in case it happened again.” Her fingers ran along the edge of the thin paper covering the exam table. How many times had she sat in a room just like this? How many hours of her life had been spent on procedures and follow-up appointments?
Dr. Brennan’s eyes lit up. “That’s excellent!” She pushed her glasses up her nose and made a note in Tori’s chart.
“I don’t understand. The pain—it hurt so bad…” Tori tried to articulate her concerns but couldn’t find the words without feeling a violent surge of anger take over.
Dr. Brennan peered over her glasses, probably puzzled by her less-than-eloquent outburst. She would have felt more embarrassed if she had the capacity to feel anything beyond frustration.
“Pain is the first step, Tori. If you’re feeling pain, that means the nerves we worked so hard to salvage and graft are starting to wake up. Pain is part of healing.”
Tori bit down on the inside of her cheek—something she had watched Rhett do so many times before in an effort to keep it together when he was on edge—but it didn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes.
Rhett.
She had insisted he didn’t need to be here for this appointment. She had been steadfast in that declaration until about a minute ago. Now she’d give anything to have her calm, collected husband by her side. He always knew what questions to ask, and he could always tell when she needed extra support. But he had headed back to Virginia a few weeks ago at her insistence, and he wouldn’t be back in Hampton for another week.
“If you don’t have any other questions or concerns,” Dr. Brennan started, “then we can wrap things up and send you on your way. You have all the contact information for the office and the nurse line, but at this time, you don’t need to schedule any additional appointments.”
She thanked Dr. Brennan—or at least, she thought she did—and gave a half-hearted wave to the receptionist who had checked her in for all her appointments over the last six months.
She was grateful to make it to her car before completely breaking down. As soon as she slid into the driver’s seat of her Camry, she pulled out her phone.
V: I just got the all clear. For everything.
Work. Travel. Swimming. Sex. After more than ten weeks of recovering from surgery and taking it easy, she had no more restrictions.
Ev: Best. Text. Ever. I’m so proud of you, V. You did it. We made it to the finish line. I love you, beautiful.
Another text came through before she could even formulate a response.
Ev: What did the doctor say about the pain you’ve been feeling?
V: That it’s a good sign. That it means I’m healing and the surgery worked.
Ev: Hell. Yes. I can’t stop smiling, V. I wish I could call you right now. I’m stuck in this merger meeting, then I have a business dinner tonight. But I’ll be there next weekend, beautiful. And we’re going to celebrate big time.
She stared at her husband’s reply. All she could do was glare at her phone. He was overjoyed. Why didn’t she feel the same way?
