“He’s working on a deadline, and I’m not exactly his favorite person right now.”
“That’s impossible,” Mom says. “That man would step in front of a bullet for you.”
“Well, he shouldn’t,” I snap, rubbing a tense spot between my brows. “He should throw me at it, and problem solved.” I knock back the rest of the whisky and hold out my glass to Hadley. “Refill, please?”
“I’m calling Ramona,” Mom says.
“Don’t. She can’t help me. No one can.”
Mom ignores me, and my therapist shows up an hour later after I have forced some shrimp and fried rice down my throat. I’m feeling all kinds of special Ramona paid a house visit. I’m guessing Mom told her I was suicidal or something, but I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just exhausted, depressed, stressed, confused, and scared, and I’ve reached my breaking point.
Garrick waking up is an amazing miraculous thing, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. I am so happy he’ll get to live a full life, albeit in a different way than he imagined. At least he’s no longer lost in an abyss. He’s finally able to move forward. It sucks he’s in a wheelchair, but he hasn’t suffered any permanent brain damage, and that’s huge. It’s what I have always wanted for him.
But I am in my own personal version of hell, and there is no way of breaking out of it without hurting one of the men I love.
I cannot reconcile that within myself, and I cannot force the situation.
It’s impossible.
I don’t know what to do, and I feel selfish for being so obsessed with my predicament instead of worrying about Garrick’s recovery and the long road he faces.
Mom goes to the pharmacy to fill the prescription Ramona organized for sleeping pills and antidepression medication.
I pop my pills and sleep soundly, in my childhood bed, for the first time in weeks.
When I wake, Beck is sitting in a chair by my bed, snoring softly with a blanket over his lap. I take a few minutes to study him, noting the bruising shadows under his eyes and the extra thickness on his chin and cheeks. Beck rarely sports the clean-shaven look he wore to the office anymore, favoring a trimmed light layer of facial hair, which makes him appear even more manly. He keeps his hair cropped, and I love it because he has the most gorgeous, most expressive eyes, and I never want them hidden.
His signature rings adorn his fingers, and I admire his elegant hands and talented fingers. These hands have explored every part of me. Beck’s magical hands have enticed so much pleasure from my body, and I miss his touch.
He is so beautiful, and there is something so vulnerable about him in sleep. It hurts my heart knowing that frown he wears, even in slumber, is caused by me. Everything was perfect between us until Garrick woke, and now everything has turned to shit.
I climb out of the bed, intending to use the bathroom, but I can’t resist leaning over my boyfriend to softly peck his lips. Beck’s arms band around me, and he pulls me down on top of him. “Now my day can start,” he says in a deep sleep-laden voice, and my tear ducts swing into action. From that first time we slept together, Beck has said this every morning. That his day won’t start until after he’s kissed me. It’s so sweet, but it’s breaking my heart right now.
“I love you,” I whisper. I say it every day, but I fear he no longer believes me.
“I know you do,” he says as his eyes pop open. They are bloodshot and red rimmed, and more guilt lumps onto the pile I’m keeping on my shoulders. “Like I love you.”
“I’m scared of losing you.”
“I fear the same thing.”
A lump rises in my throat. “Let me go pee, and then we’ll talk. Stay here.”
When I return, Beck is on his side in my small bed, and the first genuine smile in ages ghosts over my mouth. I get in beside him, snuggling into his warmth as his arms wrap around me. “You scared everyone last night, honey.” He brushes hair out of my eyes and fixes me with his concerned gaze. “You’ve got to take better care of yourself and let me do more for you.”
“I can’t ask more of you. You do so much already, and I don’t want to burden you with all the shit in my head. It’s not fair when half of it is about another man.”
“I knew what I was getting into when we met, and I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t have to. I have cried on your shoulder over Garrick more times than I can count. I hate myself for being back here and for putting you through this.”
“Stop.” He tilts my chin up with one finger. “Stop taking on this extra stress. Let me carry some of it.”
“How do we do this, Beck? I don’t know how to navigate it, and I’m already failing so bad.”
“We take it one step at a time. One day at a time. And we do it together.”
Tears spill out of my eyes. “I am not worthy of you, and you’re a god among men. Or maybe an angel.”
