Shaking my head, I wave him off. “You’re right, it doesn’t matter.” I had the doctor write down the name of the specificantibiotic he’s prescribing me. “I found a coupon code for you.” I text him the link. “It’ll save you some money.”
Smirking, he picks up his phone. “It’s seriously not that big of a deal, Hailey.”
“Will you just humor me on this? If it were covered by insurance, it’d be less too, right? So what’s wrong with using this to save a few bucks? It makes me feel better than you paying full price.”
He purses his lips, glancing between me and his phone, then he sighs and nods, putting the phone back down. “Don’t worry, I’ll use it. I can see it’s important to you.”
“It is,” I say in a small voice. “Thank you.”
Clearing his throat, he tries to look nonchalant with one leg crossed over the other as he picks invisible lint from his pants. But the fact that he won’t meet my eyes gives away that he’s nervous or uncomfortable. “Once you’re feeling better, we should go down to the courthouse to make everything official.”
My breath catches, and then I cough a bunch, having to get up to go spit in the bathroom sink when it finally subsides.
Jason’s looking at me with concern when I come back to the couch and settle in my nest of blankets once more. “You okay?” I nod, then shrug, then shake my head, and he laughs. “So, perfect, then?”
Grinning too, I shake my head. “I mean, I’m … as good as can be expected under the circumstances? I feel awful, and also guilty because you’re going to be paying through the nose for a concierge doctor plus a prescription not covered by insurance.”
“The prescription really isn’t expensive.”
“That’s not the point!” It’d be a shout, but my voice gives out, and it’s more of an angry whisper.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay. I’m sorry. I guess …” He scrapes his teeth over his lower lip. “I guess I just don’t see what the problem is?” His intonation goes up, makingit a question, and he raises his hands to shoulder height as he shrugs, palms up. “I offered, Hailey. It won’t put me in the poor house to pay for a doctor to come see you when you’re trying to cough your lungs up on my couch.”
“To be fair,” I correct, “I was trying to keep my lungsinsidemy body. And I was also doing it in my room. But then that’s another thing. I now have a room inside your home.”
“And why’s that bad, exactly?”
I throw my hands up, my voice turning into little more than a croak once more. “Because! I’m twenty-five! I’m supposed to be able to make it on my own.” Gathering the blanket around me, I try to disappear into my cocoon. Not that it would actually help. The fact remains that I’m a failure. I can’t support myself. I can’t afford to fix my car or buy a new one when it breaks down. I can’t afford to pay for health insurance or a doctor when I’m sick. I couldn’t even afford to move here. Jason’s paid for everything since I broke down in front of his parents’ house. And I feel guilty—so deeply, incredibly guilty—for letting him pay for things. Maybe I should’ve just signed my parents’ stupid contract and?—
But a visceral rejection of that idea stops that thought before it can reach its conclusion.
No.
No. My parents’ option wasn’t an option at all. It was prison and punishment all rolled into one. For failing. For expecting their help after they lost their son. For having needs that they couldn’t ignore, even when I tried my best to minimize them as much as possible. For not fulfilling his dreams, his role. For not beinghim.
For surviving when he didn’t.
“Hailey,” Jason says gently after a moment, and I swipe at the tears that are trying to escape and leak down my cheeks, embarrassed.
“Hailey,” he repeats, scooting closer. “You aren’t a failure. You had a run of bad luck. There’s a difference.”
I open my mouth, ready to retort that my whole life has been a run of bad luck—or at least since Hunter died—but the words die on my lips as I meet his sincere gaze. He looks so distraught for me.
“You were supporting yourself and doing what you loved. Sure, it wasn’t perfect. Yes, you had to do extra things to make ends meet, but if anything, that’s just further evidence of your tenacity and grit. It’s not your fault your car died. And an expense like that could’ve knocked anyone on their ass. Like I’ve said before, and I’ll say it again as many times as you need to hear it, I’m glad I was there when it happened. I’m glad I was able to help you. I’m grateful that you’re letting me help you.”
I can’t stop the croaky, sniffly laugh from coming out at that. “You’regrateful? Grateful? Seriously? Of the two of us,I’mthe one who has a reason to be grateful. I can’t even …” My mouth stays open as I shake my head, searching for the right words. But there aren’t any. “This is insane. What you’re doing for me is insane. My parents wouldn’t help me this much, not even if they had this kind of money.”
He growls at that. “Yeah, well, let’s just say that your parents aren’t the same people I knew as a kid.”
This time, my chuckle is less disbelief and more sardonic and bitter—before it turns into another coughing fit. “Yeah, well. They’re not much different from what they have been for the last twelve years or so. Sometimes I think they wish I was the one who’d died instead of their golden football star son.”
“God, Hailey. Jesus.”
I swallow, shaking my head and reaching for a tissue, both because I need to blow my nose—because of course I do—but also to cover the grief that welled up as soon as I gave those words a voice. I haven’t actually said that out loud to anyonebefore. And from Jason’s reaction, he either doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t believe me, or worst of all, knows that I’m right.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter, covering my nose with the tissue and letting out an almighty honk.
“You’re gonna drop a bomb like that on me and then tell me not to worry about it? Are you fucking kidding me?”
