I trace a line down Locke's huge forearm, feeling the rigid muscle underneath his warm skin.
"And then I got sick," I say. "At first, I thought it was just the extreme dieting and the stress, but then came the overwhelming fatigue, the sharp, constant pain, and a weakness so deep I could barely drag myself out of bed.”
“s**t, Zara. I’m sorry.”
“When the doctors finally gave me the diagnosis – stomach cancer – I didn't even bother telling Knox. By then, he had checked out completely. He was firmly with Becca, living his life as if I didn't exist, leaving me alone in that cold house for weeks on end."
Locke’s jaw shifts, his breathing turning shallow and tight as he listens to the dark turn my life took.
"The breaking point came on our third wedding anniversary," I say. "I was sitting a
