The Forbidden Brother Page 11

  “But I assured you there was no chance I could get pregnant. I guess if I’d known it was a possibility, I could have taken contraception after the fact, but I was so certain—”

  “You didn’t know. You told me the same things your doctors told you. I understand that.” He switched off the truck and pocketed the keys. He went around to her side of the pickup to help her down, then led her to the front door of the main house.

  She’d been on the property before, but not inside the house. He would never have dreamed these would be the circumstances for her introduction to the place—newly pregnant with his child. The news still staggered him.

  He showed her into his home, flipping on light switches as they headed through the living area toward the kitchen.

  “Have a seat and I’ll make us something to eat. You must be exhausted.” He slid a leather-padded stool from the breakfast bar for her, then started pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator. He could have messaged his housekeeper to prepare dinner for them, but he had a strong desire to cook for Jillian himself. To keep his hands busy as an outlet for the fear running through him.

  For her. For their child.

  Jillian opened the sheaf of papers they’d collected throughout the day—pamphlets from the obstetrician’s office and the oncologist. She scanned the contents of one of the sheets while he turned on the gas flame under a cast-iron skillet. Her finger followed the lines of text on the page.

  “You realize one of the risks of finding out about a pregnancy this early is that if I miscarry in the first few weeks, we’ll both know it was a miscarriage.” She glanced up from the paperwork. “Whereas if we’d waited for a missed period, we would have never known about it.”

  “I thought of that.” He hated the knowledge that he might have brought her more pain by insisting on a blood test so soon. He chopped tomatoes and peppers. “And I’m sorry if it turns out I could have spared you that hurt.”

  “I’m going to think positively,” she insisted. “Last week I thought there was zero chance of getting pregnant, so I’ve already had good news on that score. Although it does say here that even healthy women have a 10 to 25 percent chance of miscarrying in the early weeks.”

  He swallowed back the fresh wave of worry for her. How devastated would she be to lose a child after all she’d already been through? He chopped faster, adding mushrooms to the mix as the vegetables started to sizzle in the pan.

  “If there’s anything at all I can do or offer you to help make sure you stay healthy, I will. Whatever you want or need, it’s yours.” He cracked eggs on top of the half-cooked veggies. His temples throbbed with thoughts about all the ways this pregnancy could go wrong. Then, after wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, he came around to stand beside her at the breakfast bar and took her hands in his. “But Jillian, if you are worried about the cancer coming back, or if we find out from the specialist that this pregnancy increases your risk of recurrence, I would understand if—”

  “No.” Shaking her head, she squeezed his hands hard. “This pregnancy is nothing short of a miracle to me. I never expected it, and the timing isn’t what I imagined, but after all the nights I’ve shed tears thinking I might not ever have children, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this is a healthy pregnancy.”

  Some of the tension inside him eased. But the fear for her still twisted like a knot in his chest. He had watched, helpless, as his mother died. He couldn’t let anything happen to Jillian. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

  “I understand.” He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her gently before straightening. “And I want to help in any way I can. For starters, I’d like you to move in with me.”

  Ten

  Jillian let the idea settle in her brain, knowing it was too soon to think long-term, but feeling tempted anyhow. Or maybe it was just the draw of Cody’s arms around her that had her considering his proposition for one crazy moment. How often during her treatments had she craved the kind of emotional support he knew how to give?

  Cody McNeill would never abandon a woman after surgery to remove a tumor the way her ex-boyfriend had. Honor and responsibility were coded in his very DNA, were a rock-solid part of his character. But Jillian knew that he would offer that support to any woman who carried his child. His suggestion that they live together didn’t have anything to do with her. It had everything to do with his baby.

  “That’s a big step,” she told him carefully, not wanting to appear ungrateful. She edged back from his embrace, needing to look into his eyes.

  “So is a baby.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. It touched her heart that he would sacrifice his own happiness to provide for her and their child. And at the same time, it hurt to know she’d never be able to differentiate his feelings for her from his sense of duty.

  “I just feel like it’s too soon. Especially when we agreed to table any discussion until we learned more about my health. More about—” she couldn’t bring herself to think about the chance of losing the pregnancy; not when the idea of being a mother was starting to take hold as a possibility for her “—the baby.”

  She mourned the loss of Cody’s touch already. Wished she could have lingered in the circle of his arms, if only to pretend everything was going to be all right. He slid the pan off the stove and turned the burner off.

  “Then we’ll wait.” He nodded brusquely. “We’ll see what tomorrow brings and revisit the idea after we speak to the specialist. For now, we can have some dinner, and then I’ll let you rest. You deserve a good night’s sleep after the day you’ve had.”

  They both did. She knew this wasn’t easy for him, either. That his life would have been so much simpler if she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

  “Thank you.” She needed to retreat. To try to process this news. To figure out what would be best for her future and her child’s.

  “After I serve us, I’ll show you to your room and make sure you have everything you need,” he said, sliding the food onto their plates and setting them on the kitchen counter. He was the perfect host. Attentive. Thoughtful.

  She should be thankful he took this news seriously. And she was. But a part of her couldn’t help missing the man she’d danced with at Wrangler’s that first night. The Cody McNeill who’d been ready to abandon caution, and share life’s next adventure with her.

  * * *

  The next afternoon, after her exam, Jillian got dressed and then followed the nurse into Dr. Webster’s spacious corner office. Cody was already there; he’d driven her to the appointment, stopped by the White Canyon Ranch to pick up her things and then returned so they could meet with the doctor together. When she entered the room, he waited for her to take a seat in front of the mahogany desk then sat next to her. They didn’t have time to speak privately, however, before the doctor arrived.

  Cody stood and the two men shook hands. When Cody settled into the chair beside her again, he slid his hand around hers and squeezed. She wondered if he did that without thinking, to seek contact with her, or if it was a conscious attempt to offer her comfort.

  Not that it necessarily mattered. It was a kindness either way, and there was no denying his actions touched her. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder whether, if she moved in with him, she would ever know what gestures were real and which were a product of his strong sense of responsibility. He already viewed himself as the responsible one in his family—the one who managed the core of the McNeill ranching business while his siblings pursued outside interests like acting or the rodeo.

  If a good night’s sleep had made Jillian realize only one thing about this pregnancy, it was that she didn’t want to be another person on his list of responsibilities, no matter how seductive his touch was.

  “Do you have questions for me?” Dr. Webster was asking, reminding Jillian that she needed to focus on the here and now. She’d missed half of his re
marks about her health, but then, the obstetrician had given her his views about her pregnancy prospects when they’d been in the exam room. Up until now, he’d simply been bringing Cody up to speed.

  In the obstetrician’s opinion, she had as much chance as any woman of carrying a baby to full term. Breastfeeding most likely wouldn’t be an option, but he didn’t rule that out, either. His patients’ experiences with pregnancy and cancer reflected the findings of the recent European study the doctors had mentioned to Jillian and Cody yesterday—that pregnancy hormones did not spur a recurrence of breast cancer.

  “You’ve reviewed Jillian’s chart from her medical team in Los Angeles,” Cody began, glancing her way a moment before he encircled her shoulders with one arm. “In your opinion, regardless of pregnancy, what is the risk of her disease returning?”

  She understood why he needed to ask the question. If she succumbed to a second round of cancer, he would be the sole parent to this child. Cody deserved to know the answer so he could be ready. Still, all the rationalizing in the world didn’t lessen the pain that came with those words. The reminder of the shadow cancer cast over her whole life, even now.

  It meant the possibility that she would miss out on seeing her child grow up. The stakes were higher than ever. She needed to remain healthy.

  “Her risk of contracting breast cancer a second time is slightly higher than the average woman’s, but not significantly so. It helps tremendously that her disease isn’t hereditary. With no family history working against her, she has every reason to feel more optimistic.” The doctor’s words echoed those of other medical professionals she’d dealt with during her treatments.

  She was lucky that her cancer wasn’t hereditary, they’d all agreed two years ago. It had been difficult to feel fortunate, however, when she’d been so ill she’d thought she wouldn’t survive the vile drugs they’d given her. When the burns from radiation had reduced her to tears, her skin hurting so badly she couldn’t sleep without more powerful drugs. Often, she’d refused the pain medicine, not wanting to introduce even more chemicals to a body overflowing with them.

  Cody stroked her arm. Her back. His touch felt familiar. Comforting. She wanted to lean into him, but she couldn’t afford to lose her independence now. Not when she had a baby’s future to consider.

  She regretted that her health concerns gave him far more to grapple with than if she’d been whole. Cancer-free. Yet she couldn’t change who she was or what had happened between them. She could only move forward. One foot ahead of the other.

  “Where do we go from here?” she asked, focusing on the future. “How often should I be checked?”

  The doctor confirmed what she’d read in the literature the night before—that she had to bear in mind that a percentage of all pregnancies ended in miscarriage without the mother even realizing she’d been pregnant. He set up a schedule to monitor her hormone levels over the upcoming weeks, which meant more blood tests. He also gave them more literature on healthy diet and exercise, stressing the importance of minimizing all other risk factors.

  Cody listened carefully, asking more questions, his face carved with lines of worry. His strong shoulders were set in a rigid posture, as if he had to bear all this alone. She understood his fear. She shared it, of course. Yet Jillian was familiar with all the doctor’s suggestions. She’d already heard these lectures and read the brochures. She was already doing everything she could to stay healthy. Aside from that glass of wine she’d ordered in the Thirsty Cow the night she met Cody, she’d been a model of good behavior.

  But she couldn’t stop living because of the disease, or else cancer won. Yes, she would take extra precautions while she was pregnant, since she really did consider it a miracle that she’d conceived at all. Once she’d given birth, though, if she was lucky enough to carry this baby to term, she refused to live in a padded box. She needed to live, and that meant continuing to enjoy her list of life adventures. The only way to defy the disease was not just to exist, but to thrive.

  As Cody asked the doctor for additional literature on food guidelines and risk factors, Jillian wondered if the responsible father of her child would understand that.

  When they emerged from the physician’s office half an hour later, a schedule for follow-up visits in hand, Jillian debated how to broach the topic with him. They had known each other so briefly, it was almost impossible to gauge how he might react. But they needed to have some difficult conversations, and soon. From the last time they’d slept together—when the earth had moved for her, but Cody had tried to distance himself from her afterward by asking about the blood test—Jillian knew that he didn’t want to date and wasn’t interested in furthering a relationship.

  So she couldn’t afford to let her emotions make the decisions for her.

  “We should talk,” she told him as he opened the door of his truck for her. She had a lot of things to weigh, and she knew he did, too.

  When he didn’t answer right away, she peered over at him and saw he’d taken out his phone. She’d noticed last night that it had chimed often, but he’d never checked it once when they’d been discussing the pregnancy. Now, remembering that, along with his concerns about his father and sister, she hesitated before taking her seat.

  “Is everything okay with your family?”

  He looked up, frowning. “I’m sorry. I was getting so many messages in there, I was worried something serious had happened.”

  “What is it?”

  “See for yourself.” He flipped his phone around so she could view a photo of Scarlett and a familiar-looking man filling the screen.

  She read the caption aloud, “‘Scarlett McNeill, heiress to a cattle ranch fortune, seems to have caught the eye of sought-after playboy Logan King, according to partygoers at a West Hollywood hotspot last night.’” Jillian’s gaze flew to Cody’s. “This is the actor slated to star in Winning the West.”

  That’s why she knew the young man’s face—from the director’s notes. Logan was handsome enough in a traditional sense—he had, quite literally, movie-star good looks. She couldn’t help but compare his style to Cody’s more rugged appeal, though. She certainly knew which man she’d choose every time. She guessed Logan King was the actor Scarlett had met. Possibly the same man Paige didn’t want her daughter to see.

  “Right. So now Carson will get to host a Hollywood playboy looking for an heiress to fund his expensive tastes.” Cody jammed the phone into his pocket. “My father will be thrilled,” he said drily.

  “I’m sure the story is overblown.” Jillian hadn’t been in the industry long, but she’d seen enough false tabloid reports to know they had no shame when it came to manipulating stories to make a good headline. “Logan King’s star is on the rise, and so is the price he commands per film. I doubt he’s romancing Scarlett because of her fortune.”

  Cody shook his head. Only now did Jillian notice the dark circles under his eyes. No doubt he hadn’t slept much the night before, between worry about her and worry about his family.

  “Damned if I know. But apparently the interest in our family has skyrocketed.” He took her hand and eased her into the pickup. “Maddy’s been taking reservations for the White Canyon all day, and her website crashed from too much traffic. Brock had to kick out a reporter who was nosing around the barns this morning, so I’m going to look into increasing security before the film crew rolls into town.”

  Too stunned to argue, Jillian buckled her seat belt while he slid into the driver’s side. “I never would have guessed the movie would bring that kind of attention.”

  “This surge of interest is because of Scarlett, not Winning the West.” Cody steered the pickup toward the outskirts of town and the Black Creek Ranch, a route she was beginning to know well.

  A route that quickly turned rural, and then downright picturesque. The highway leading northwest offered breathtaking views of the Laramie Mountains
, with the sky so blue behind them they stood in stark three-dimensional relief. Even the air was different than Southern California, where the ocean breezes could turn heavy with smog. Here, the almost constant wind felt crisp and clean, every day a fresh start.

  “Has anyone in your family spoken to Scarlett? What’s her take on this?”

  “Maisie texted with her briefly this morning, but only enough for Scarlett to say that we’re supposed to ‘ignore the rumors.’ Whatever that means.” Cody drummed his thumbs lightly on the steering wheel. “Although to be truthful, I haven’t read through all those group messages on my phone. As you know, I have more important things on my mind.”

  Jillian felt that pull of attraction to him again, less physical this time, and more emotional. She appreciated how he’d handled things so far, even though she recognized they hadn’t begun to truly figure out what this baby would mean for them. Yet Cody took the potential complications seriously. And he hadn’t pushed her to talk when she wasn’t ready.

  But would the man who’d asked her to move in with him be able to let her go when the time came?

  “I do welcome the break from thinking about our situation, though.” She cracked the truck window to let some of that warm summer air flow through her hair and blow away some of the fears. “I went to bed scared last night, and I woke up scared today. So I’m grateful to think about your sister for a few minutes instead.”

  “Then, if you don’t mind—” Cody retrieved his phone from his pocket and passed it to her, keeping his eyes on the road “—would you mind glancing through the group messages? See if there’s anything urgent in there?”

  “Are you sure?” She studied his face, but didn’t turn on the device. Funny to think she’d slept with him twice yet hesitated to touch his phone.

  “There’s nothing in there you can’t see.” His jaw flexed, the slightest hint of emotion crossing his face, an emotion she couldn’t read.