“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. His strong hands slipped under my arms and he hauled me to my feet, taking my weight as we moved from the kitchen to the living room. He sniffed. “Did you fucking dust?”
“Dusting isn’t going to take me out. Can you please relax?” I begged. This was why I hadn’t wanted him to know.
Creek said nothing, but I could feel the tension radiating off him as he got me situated in the corner seat, then took one a space away from me. The moment stretched on like a wire pulled too tight before it snapped. “I’m sorry,” he finally muttered.
Hearing him apologize was…new. And different. And strange.
“It’s fine. I’m doing what I have to do. I don’t want Nash coming in here and hurting himself worse because he feels like he has to take care of everything.”
Creek shook his head. “No, I get that. But I already talked to Heath, and we’re going to pay for a cleaning service until he’s up and about.”
I wanted to tell him no. That, in spite of my body, I could do it. But I thought about how the last time I met with Kent, he reminded me that sometimes I would have to accept my limitations. And that accepting help wasn’t a mark of failure.
“Why suffer,” he’d said, looking me in the eye, “when there’s no need to suffer.”
It was a novel concept, and one that I was probably going to struggle with for the rest of my life. But I was going to try to make that part of my new philosophy.
Taking a breath, I looked at my brother again. We hadn’t talked since the hospital. I’d seen him briefly when I stepped in to see Nash for the first time, but I’d been so busy reeling over the fact that Nash loved me back that I’d forgotten to check in with him.
Which was something I also wanted to change.
I fucked up keeping all this from him. I didn’t want to do it again.
“I’m sorr?—”
“I wanted to say I?—”
We both went silent, then he snorted and shook his head. “I’m going first because I don’t want to hear your bullshit apology.”
A mixture of shame and anger hit me. “It’s not bullshit, Creek. Iamsorry.”
He shook his head again. “No, I said that wrong. The apology isn’t bullshit. It’s just…you don’t need to. What you said was harsh?—”
“Creek…”
“Let me finish,” he begged. I nodded for him to go on. Frankly, I was tired, and speaking was hard when my body was like this. “It hurt, but I think I needed to hear it. I’ve been a control freak most of my life, and I didn’t realize how many scars that left on you. The fact that you were afraid to come to me was a bitter damn pill, Forest.”
I swallowed thickly. “It wasn’t that I was afraid…”
“You were. Let’s call it what it is. I never made things easy on you, and that’s on me. But I love you, okay? I know we didn’t say that much growing up, and I regret that too. But I’m happy for you and Nash.”
“Would you be saying that if the relationship wasn’t real?” I couldn’t help the question. I wanted to know how safe I would’ve been if the whole thing really had been just a matter of convenience.
He bowed his head. “I don’t know. I want to say I’d understand, but you know me.”
I couldn’t help a small laugh. “Yeah, I do.”
He glanced over at me, a smile playing at his lips. “You really do love him, though, right?”
“Yeah. It was…” I stopped. I wanted to say unexpected, but that wasn’t true. Something about Nash had stayed with me from the first time I saw him on a FaceTime when Creek was deployed. It was a two-second hello in passing, but his face had been burned into my brain.
And then I got to know him, and it became so much worse.
And now, it was so much better.
“I’m still hurt I wasn’t at your wedding.”
Bowing my head, I took a deep breath. “It wasn’t a real wedding. I didn’t know how he felt at the time, and I was too afraid to be honest about how I did. I think once he’s better, maybe we can do something real.”
