“What do you need to get done?” he asks. “You’re not working.”
Well. That’s true. I check my alarm app. “I guess the only one I need is the one reminding me to take my meds. I really can’t forget that.”
“I’ll remind you,” Alec says smoothly.
My cheeks flush. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s no bother.”
“You should let him,” Fraser suggests, quaffing elderflower cordial. “Sometimes I’ll tell him ‘hey, remind me to book the truck in for an MOT in nine months,’ and he genuinely does.”
“It’s no trouble if it helps you,” Alec adds. “I want you to be able to relax.”
“I mean. If you don’t mind…”
“Of course not.” He holds out his hand, and I pass my phone over. “They’re ADHD meds? Have you been on them long?”
I start to eat. The stew is delicious, savoury and flavoured with herbs. “Since I was eighteen. We knew I was dyslexic in primary school, but I was very good at subconsciously hiding the ADHD, so I didn’t get diagnosed with that until, like, right before my A-levels. Not ideal timing. I had a whole meltdown, and the school librarian was like, ‘So this isn’t actually normal.’”
I had what was, in retrospect, a panic attack in the back cupboard of the library. It was like I was drowning. I was studying so much I barely slept, and the harder I tried, the less I could remember. I felt like I had a running list of twenty million things I needed to think about at all times, and if I let anything slip the tiniest bit, I’d fall apart.
And that time, I actually did.
“Yousubconsciouslyhid it, eh?” Fraser says. “Impressive.”
“Yeah. Like, I knew I was different in some way. I struggled with things everyone else seemed to do without thinking. And I was always getting told off when I didn’t feel like I was doing anything wrong. So I learned to tone myself down and act like everyone else.” I frown. “Not that I was very good at it. All my teachers thought I was slow. Or oversensitive. Or messy.”
“And the meds help you?” Alec asks.
“Yep.” I take another bite of food. “They mess with my appetite though. Sometimes I get to six p.m. and realise I haven’t eaten, so I have to consume a full day’s worth of food in one sitting. But don’t worry, I am up to the task!”
Cameron’s chair scrapes out. “Don’t,” he barks.
I blink at him. He’s scowling at me. “Um, what?”
“Don’t do that,” he orders. “Eat better.”
“I mean, I try…”
“You don’t have to try,” he says darkly. “I’ll feed you.”
Fraser barks a laugh. “Oh, you have no idea what you just started, angel. You’re about to be waited on hand and foot for the rest of your time here. Cameron’s love language is cooking an entire roast dinner for someone and then vanishing into thin air.”
Cameron’s cheeks colour.
“So the meds help you think clearer?” Alec asks, touching my knee.
I nod. “And I get stuck less.”
“Stuck?” His thumb strokes my thigh.
I shiver. “Um, yes. Sometimes I sort of…freeze. I can’t work out what to do next, and everything seems too hard, and the thought of doinganythingis so unbearably boring that I start to feel really depressed. It’s hard to get out of.”
Alec tilts his head as he considers that. I have to laugh. “You can’t imagine it, can you? I bet you’ve always been great at getting stuff done.” He gets out of bed at four a.m. with a to-do list, methodically works through it, and just doesn’t stop until everything is checked off.
“I’ve never really struggled with getting things done, no,” he agrees.
I suddenly feel self-conscious. “I know it seems sort of made up, but it genuinely is way harder for people with ADHD to complete tasks. I’m not just bad at self-discipline.”
