"Just a little thing," he insisted.

I lifted a shoulder. "I don't know."

"Tiny." He pinched his fingers together so that there was only about an inch between them. "Smaller than that heart you did for me."

I grimaced. "I don't know about a heart though."

A huge grin swept his face. "I can make you a mini dragon."

He was talking about the electric blue dragon with rainbow fire. "Where?"

"Anywhere but your lower stomach," he said confidently. "If you have kids that thing'll end up looking like a life sized one."

I burst out laughing, watching as a small smile crossed Blake's features. "With my luck, it'll look like it’s trying to eat my baby."

Dex nudged me with his shoulder. His facial expression careful. Did he look jealous? Jealous that I hadn't told him I'd started considering it? Jesus. There was enough I needed to tell him, but I'd been too much of a coward to. "You wanna get some work done, babe?"

"I think so, but Gingervitis over here wants it more than me." That earned me an elbow from Slim that I returned with a laugh. "Maybe though. Just maybe."

"Don't know where?" Dex asked.

I glanced over at my favorite redhead and smirked. "I know where I don't want it."

Slim elbowed me again. "Sucks we can’t do it by your scar."

My stomach felt the equivalent of a plate shattering on concrete. The blood drained from my face and I lost my breath. The urge to squeak was right there, slithering its way up my vocal chords.

The arm over my shoulders tightened a fraction. "What scar?"

Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap!

I forced a smile onto my face, and there was no doubt in my mind it was shaky and weak.

I could lie. It would be easy enough to change the conversation. The only problem was, the instant I thought about lying again and having to divert the topic to something else, guilt pinched me right in the kidneys. Maybe it was because I knew Sonny was still mad at me, but maybe it was because these were people that I cared for more than I had others in a long, long time.

But the answer, the realization, was right there.

I didn't want to. I shouldn't have to keep hiding something that was as essential a part of me as my name.

It was bound to happen, I knew that. Otherwise, it'd only be a matter of time before they found out. Keeping my cancer a secret hadn't been a permanent plan.

When I looked over at Blake, sensing the deep sadness and wariness in his features, it reinforced my vertebrae and reminded me that I had guts. That I'd used my guts throughout my life. And if Blake really was suffering because of something going on with his little boy, I could do this. It wasn't that big of a deal.

There were worse things in life than having people I cared about babying me. Feeling sorry for me. And I needed to quit being a sneaky jackass that kept things to herself. Would I have ever kept things from yia-yia? No way.

I looked over at Dex and pointed at my arm, my fingers shaking as I did it. There was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing to be scared of. "I have this gnarly scar on my arm." Easy, right?

His eyes hooded over as a frown crossed his features. "From what?" he asked carefully.

You can do this, Ris.

It wasn't a big deal. It really wasn't.

I reached for the hem of my sweater and started pulling it up and over my head, careful to keep my arms perpendicular to my body so that I wouldn't give an impromptu arm-flash. I heard Slim chuckle, "Strip show? I need change for a ten."

A snicker escaped me as I peeled it off my arms before balling the material on my lap. I took a deep breath and planted another shaky smile on my lips as I raised my bad arm in a way that made it look like I was going to flex my muscles. Not that there was much left there anymore, more than half of my bicep had been removed.

I watched Dex as I did it. Watched him as he shifted in place, dropping his arm from around the back of the seat and settled his gaze on the silvery white twisted tissue that laced the inside of my bicep. That familiar nerve under his eye started popping instantly.

"I had cancer when I was little," I told them, looking at Blake as I said it. Maybe my story wasn't the best one to try and relate to him. If Junior was sick, hearing that I'd gone through four different surgeries wasn't a fairy tale. But I was alive and I was here. Alive and here were much better words than the simple word—not. Not here. Inexistent.

Back when I’d been sick, I’d always dreaded hearing other words. Spread. Lymph nodes. Amputation. Those words, those possibilities, make you grow up quick. They made me remember to prioritize correctly, to value and appreciate. But mainly the branches of those words scared me so much, I wanted to live even if it wasn’t always going to be fun and games.

I’d forgotten that along the way somewhere. There was a difference between living and surviving. And this place, these people, reminded me of that.

After a second I dropped my thinner limb, and let out a breath. Dex watched me with a blank expression while Slim's eyes went wide.

"No shit?" he asked, reaching out to grab me. He lifted my arm up and touched the desensitized skin there with gentle fingertips. "What kind?"

"A form of soft tissue sarcoma," I explained. “Cancer in my muscle, pretty much.”

Slim's wide expression drooped before a frown crossed his lips. "Why didn't you say something?"

That wasn't exactly what I was expecting. "I'm telling you now."

"But you could've said something before," he shot back solidly. "Hey, Slim, I used to have friggin’ cancer. Just thought you should know."

I opened my mouth to argue back with him when Blake made a noise I hoped to never hear from him again. Ever. "JR has acute lymphoblastic leukemia."

Any argument in my mouth or Slim's died quickly.

It was Blue that spoke first. "Sorry, B," she said, throwing her arms around the much bigger man.

"Dude," was the one thing Slim muttered harshly.

Oh shit. I slipped my knees onto the seat and leaned across the table, careful not to knock over any of the bottles, and put my hands on Blake's arm. "I'm sorry."

He let out a weak, worried exhale. "The doctors called to say his red blood cell count was off. They ran a few tests to figure out what was wrong," he explained from Blue's shoulder. "I'm scared outta my mind."

"They have all kinds of treatment for cancer now," Slim piped up.

Blake nodded just a little bit. "Yeah, that's what the doctors said. They told us his kind is one of the most treatable, but it still scares the shit out of me."

Of course it would. We sat around, trying to offer our best words of comfort and reassurance that Junior would get better. No one drank anything else while we talked to him but by the time we left over an hour later, it seemed like he was a little more calm.

I didn't have the heart to say that he'd probably freak out a hundred more times over the course of the next few months, but I hoped he'd turn to one of us for moral support.

What did get me was that Dex didn't say anything on the walk to his bike, his hand on my hip. When we got home, I'd barely sat on the couch when he came to stand in front of me. Four fingers flicked up. He growled, "Take it off, babe."