Forest was staring at me, probably because I hadn’t responded to his joke, so I quickly waved my hand. “I’m a benevolent first sergeant. I allow my underlings some freedom.”
He snorted, and the moment passed. Thank baby Jesus and all the saints.
I sternly reminded myself that Forest needed me right now. He had received some devastating news and desperately needed a friend, someone who was there for him and who supported him. That friendship did not include inappropriate dreams and fantasies, so I’d better get my shit together and start thinking of him as a little brother.
Even if brotherly was the last way I felt about him.
CHAPTER SIX
FOREST
It was hard not to feel guilty for taking Nash’s bedroom, as much as I appreciated being moved downstairs. I was still trying to come up with some reasonable excuse as to why Nash let me stay here while he’d made everyone else sleep upstairs. Even my brother with his prosthetic leg had slept upstairs. Although I could easily picture Creek insisting he have the highest room in the house, like it was some sort of challenge he needed to overcome.
God. I pressed my hands over my face, taking in a deep breath. Thinking about Creek made my stomach twist, which sucked, considering my stomach was already fucked nine ways to Sunday from this whole…thing.
This whole permanent, chronic, neurological thing.
I was still trying to process everything the doctor had said. Having Nash there with me had helped a bit. Well, more than a bit. It had been distracting at first because I’d literally been dreaming about the man putting his arms around me, but those dreams usually turned out a lot different from getting devastating news in a doctor’s office.
It had felt good though. When I’d pulled away from his arms, I’d felt the space between us like a canyon. I wanted more, butwhile Nash was as kind as ever, something about him now felt…closed off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and a small part of me was worried it was all in my head.
Or maybe I’d been too much at the doctor’s office. After all, I wasn’t a crier. Creek had been an amazing brother, but our home wasn’t exactly welcoming to emotional expression when I was growing up. It was easier that way, especially being small and unable to hide the fact that I was gay.
The bullying had been overwhelming before Creek put a stop to it, but I never let it show, which was why it took so long for him to notice it was happening.
I didn’t like the feeling of losing control. I had enough of that going on with my body. I couldn’t stand the idea that my emotions would also join in on the chaos.I was more than relieved to know it wasn’t something that was going to shorten my lifespan, but knowing that this was forever—that there was no cure—that was a heavy weight to carry around.
Taking a breath, I rolled to the side and flexed my toes. They seemed to be cooperating for the most part. I hadn’t started on any of my medications or my physical therapy yet, but I was taking the doctor’s advice and trying to reduce my stress levels as much as possible.
Today, I had an appointment with HR to discuss the accommodations I would need when I started giving in-person lectures during the fall semester, and my stomach was twisting around itself. I hadn’t been offered an official teaching contract beyond the summer courses, and I was petrified this would tip them over the edge.
I’d said as much to Nash the night before, and while he reminded me that it would be illegal to fire me for being disabled, they could still decide not to hire me at all. Without some kind of protection, like tenure, it would be almostimpossible to prove that the reason they terminated my work was because of the way my body was failing me.
Humanities were always being culled in the budget, so it was an easy excuse.
Standing, I stretched my back and felt the weird, sluggish sensation in my legs. I did not need this today. At all. I needed to be at the top of my game.
Glancing to the right, I eyed the cane sitting against the door. It had been one of Creek’s. He’d left it behind during his move, and Nash had offered it to me without a word. I felt heat creeping around the tips of my ears at the thought of using it in public, and I still hadn’t filled my scripts to get my own cane or a wheelchair.
I knew it was unfair to be so embarrassed by it. Plenty of people younger than me needed devices to help them get around. I’d been on a deep dive on the internet, scouring groups with people who had FND, and there were so many more than I thought. And so many of them loved their mobility aids.
Freedom, they called it.
I wondered if it would ever feel that way for me.
I wanted to believe I would eventually accept this. That I would get used to whatever my new normal was going to be, but right now, it felt like the weight of the world was sitting on my chest, and just breathing took up all of my energy.
I’d get through it though. One step at a time.
One foot in front of the other.
The sun would rise. The sun would set. And I would cope.
“Do you want me to hang around?” Nash asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
Right now, I wasn’t allowed to drive. I needed to be free from seizures for at least a year before the doctor was comfortable giving that back to me. I didn’t blame him, but it felt like the first real piece of my independence was being stripped away.And there was probably more to come.
“No. I have no idea how long this is going to take. I have a meeting with HR for the disability services thing, and then I want to get some of my office set up for next semester.”
