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back against the rest. “It just sucks, you know?”

“I know. Life sucks sometimes. But that doesn’t mean you throw in the towel. Believe me, I wanted to just a month ago, but life brought you to me. And I guarantee you, that was for a reason. Let me help you.”

“How am I going to tell my son? What if I can’t be there for him in the years to come?”

“You’ll be there for him. People live long lives with MS. As long as you’re getting treatment, everything should be fine.”

I keep my head straight but turn my eyes to meet hers. The expression covering her face means so much to me right now. I haven’t seen a woman look at me like this in a long time. It’s caring but loving, too, with a hint of determination to get through my stubborn skull.

I force a grin, but it falls flat as I close my eyes, trying to fight all the negative thoughts coming to my mind and focusing on her positive ones.

She might have been brought to me for a reason, but right now, that reason sucks more than anything in my life ever has.

How can that be a good thing?

I feel her soft hand on my face, and I open my eyes to see her only a few inches away.

“You’re going to be okay. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

I nod, and she leans in to kiss me softly. Her kiss causes so much pain with the way I feel her shaky breath as she inhales. She’s trying to give me strength, but I feel her falling apart, just like I am. I don’t want to tell her that. I want her to think I’m the strong man she deserves. The one who will protect her when the last man in her life failed her.

How can I do that when I don’t even have control over my own body?

When she pulls back, I try to show a brave face and hope she doesn’t notice just how weak I feel in this moment.

She curls up in my arms and says, “Everything is going to be okay. This is just a bump in the road but nowhere near a Stop sign.”

I love that she’s so optimistic when I’m anything but. This woman has really been something special to me, but what am I if I can’t be everything she needs?

I lean down and kiss her head, feeling my strength cracking and finally letting the tears I was holding back fall down my face. I don’t move or say another word, fearing she’ll see me falling apart if I do. Instead, we sit here in silence until I can face what my future holds, knowing it might change forever.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Justine

I’m trying to keep Tucker in a positive mood, but with the way he hasn’t been as talkative or playful with me, I get the feeling this diagnosis has hit him hard. I can’t blame him, as I’m sure I’d feel the same way. No one likes to hear there’s something medically wrong with them.

I’ve researched everything I possibly can about the condition, but whenever I try to talk to him about it, he gets quiet and tries to walk off, like he’s busy doing something else.

Thankfully, I’ve been able to throw myself into planning the work event, and it’s keeping me very busy.

I’ve waited to call Adam until I knew that Tucker had told Linda his diagnosis, but as I pick up my phone and dial his number, I can’t help the nervous stomach that’s turning like crazy.

I wonder if this is overstepping my boundaries—again. I know nothing about how rock stars get signed up for these things. I’m afraid he’ll think I’m using Tucker’s diagnosis to help me in my own dealings, which couldn’t be further from the truth. But will he see it that way?

I close my eyes, saying a silent prayer when I hear him answer the phone, “Helloooo,” he singsongs, drawing out the word.

We exchange our courteous hellos, and Cailin’s sweet voice chimes in on his side of the phoneline.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

I let out a tiny sigh of relief that he doesn’t seem annoyed that I’m calling him again.

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Just hanging out with my girls. What’s up?”

“Who is it, Daddy?” I hear Cailin ask.

“It’s Justine. Go run off with Sarah, so I can talk on the phone.” There’s a pause, and then he comes back to me. “Sorry about that. What’s going on? How’s the article coming along?”

“It’s great. My boss was really happy with it, and it will run in the next issue.”

“Nice. And the label sent you the pics you wanted?”

“Yep. The layout designers said they had everything they needed.” I say with apprehension.

He must hear it in my voice. “Everything okay with Tucker? I heard about his diagnosis.”

“He’s taking it okay, I guess. I mean, as well as he can. It’s still very new.”

“I can imagine.”

There’s a pause, and I realize how dumb I feel for calling him. But it’s too late, so I just blurt it out, “Hey, I’m sorry to call you like this. Now that I have you on the phone, I’m thinking I should have called your management, but I just figured since I had your number and with everything going on with Tucker, I would call you myself.”

I hear his quiet laughter come through the phone.

“Oh jeez, I’m rambling.”

He laughs more. He must be used to people getting nervous around him.

“I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath. “The reason I’m calling is because the magazine puts on an annual give-back event, and unfortunately, the main act just entered rehab. It’s totally last minute, but when I found out the charity they’re giving to is the Multiple Sclerosis Association of America, I thought maybe you might be interested in filling the space. The event will be played live on social media and treated like a telethon, so it would be great exposure to

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