Page 91 of No Fear

“Thank you for that,” he said after she had leaned forward and ended the call.

“You’re welcome. Hopefully we’ll have better news to share after your appointment tomorrow.”

“I doubt it. If it was getting better, wouldn't I see something? Change of light. Flashes. Anything?” His voice broke on the last word and Charlie instinctively reached for his hand.

“We’re not doctors, Donnie. Who knows what should be happening? You can ask that tomorrow.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you came. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad I came, too.”

“How long are you here for?”

“Not sure. It was a one-way ticket.”

“What’s going on with Simon? Are you going back to him?”

“No! Of course not.”

“But he keeps calling.” It was a statement not a question.

Charlie sighed. “Yes. It’s fine. I can handle him. I really don’t want to talk about him right now. I’m here for you.”

Donnie’s face tightened, mouth set in a straight line. Before he could say anything else, she steered the conversation in a different direction.

“I’m not really sure what Mackie was doing for you, so you need to tell me if you need help with something.”

“Don’t worry, I can wipe my own ass. I’m not completely helpless.” The bitterness was back.

“I never said you were.”

Silence hung between them. The man beside her was so different from the man who had rocked her world in Toronto. When Charlie placed a hand on his arm, he jolted. She squeezed gently.

“I don't know how to help you, Donnie. But I want to. Tell me what you need,” she said softly.

“I need my sight back.”

***

DONNIE SAT IN THE PASSENGER seat of his Bronco. He had never sat in the passenger seat of his own car. He didn't like it.

Last night, after Mackie left, things had been strained. Charlie was only trying to help, but his despair came in waves. Reality had come crashing down that evening. Listening to Charlie, the woman of his fucking dreams, getting to know his teammate had only made him think about what he could no longer have. He had been determined to convince Charlie they could be more than friends, that she could trust him. Now he wasn’t going to. She deserved better than a man who couldn’t see her. He refused to be a burden to her. To anyone.

He felt helpless. Especially after Mackie had told him about the email from Tracer. The explicit pictures of Simon partying. Seems the man didn't only like women. Donnie didn’t give a shit what the man's sexual preferences were, but he did give a shit that Simon had been lying to Charlie and possibly putting her health at risk. Those were also some heated emails between father and son. It appeared Daddy Radwell knew Charlie had called off the wedding. Daddy was threatening to sell the business to someone else.

The old Donnie, the one who could see, would have gone and paid Simon a visit. Let him know Charlie was off limits and to stay the fuck away. Blind Donnie couldn't do that. He had been so angry and frustrated with himself last night, he claimed tiredness and went to bed, feeling defeated and a little sorry for himself.

This morning, he’d made sure he was up early, knowing it took him longer to shower and get dressed. He’d felt around for a pair of jeans and grabbed the first T-shirt he laid his hands on from the drawer. He had no idea what color he was wearing, but he must have looked alright since Charlie hadn’t said anything.

He made an effort to talk while she made coffee, and then breakfast. He was contemplating telling Charlie about Simon. Be honest. But at the thought of the pain it would inflict on her, he decided to hold off for now. Instead, they spoke more about the base, the hospital, and Sophie. Safe topics.

When it was time to go, Charlie handed him the stick, but he refused it. Using it would be the final admission he was never going to see again. He wasn’t ready for that. Charlie hadn’t insisted and offered her arm. Together, they walked frustratingly slowly to the elevators and to the parking garage. She’d typed the base address into the GPS and then they were on the move.

“I can’t believe you have an orange convertible.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“Nothing. I just never would have thought you would pick orange. Black maybe. Or silver.”