Chapter Eight
Evie
Em’s mad at Mitchell, but I understand why he left. He doesn’t even know me, and he sat through the most humiliating thing that happens to me. He saw me lose control as the pain took over and won.
Of course, he left. It’s a lot to witness.
“He doesn’t owe me anything, Em,” I sigh as I sit in my wheelchair. It’s always easier to use it at home than my crutches.
“He left, Evie. He waited until you were asleep, and he freaking left.”
“Why would he stay?” I ask, confused at her anger. “He was being a good friend and helped me to a place where I could get through the worst of it and sleep off the rest. It would have been silly for him to stay.”
“You don’t get it, E,” She says flopping down on my couch as if she owns the place. She’s here enough that it wouldn’t be far off. “The men in my family tend to find their freaking soul mates and fall head over heels faster than a bullet. I saw it in his eyes. He likes you. An Obsidian male who likes someone is done for. They claim. They protect. They love. They don’t tuck them into bed and walk away.”
“You’re way off,” I laugh as I dig in my fridge for the ground beef. Tacos sound delicious right now. “Mitchell doesn’t like me. Not in that way, at least. We’ve only met once. Well, twice if you count the nursing home. Did you know that he goes to see my mom?”
“I know that he goes to nursing homes to visit people,” she admits. “He’s got a big heart like that. I’ve always wondered why he spends his free time visiting people he doesn’t know.”
“He says it makes his heart happy,” I say, balancing on my one foot to grab the seasoning. “How does tacos sound?”
Em turns around just as I flop back in my chair and turn to smile. “I make a mean taco.”
“Tacos sound perfect,” she laughs. “Why do you keep putting things so high when you know you have to pull a circus move to get them down.”
And that’s why I love Emily. She never walks around on eggshells about my missing limb. She takes every opportunity to say something that others may find mean but causes my heart to sour with happiness.
“I’m shooting for the stars, Em,” I say. “I’m hoping that one day I’ll have a big, strong man who can get the taco seasoning down for me. Or, you know, a prosthetic leg. Whichever comes first.”
“Two things,” she says, climbing over the back of the couch and moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Mitchell is a big, strong man. Super big, actually. Unnaturally tall. Which I’m sure makes you feel like a dainty little thing.”
“And two?” I sigh.
“Hold on, I’m not finished with one,” she continues, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Mitchell’s the type of man who would get the taco seasoning down for you without you even asking. He doesn’t just help people, Evie. He takes care of them. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, even if neither of you will admit to yourselves.”
I snort, shaking my head as I start browning the beef. “You’re crazy. Mitchell is not interested in me. He’s just... trying to be nice.”
“Nice?” Emily raises an eyebrow. “Honey, Mitchell doesn’t do nice. He does intense, he does protective, he does that whole silent, mysterious thing, and when it comes to you, he’s doing something else. He’s trying to figure it out, just like you are.”
I pause, looking down at the pan, the sizzling meat filling the quiet space between us. What she’s saying makes sense in a way, but I can’t let myself believe it. Not with everything that’s already going on. Not when he probably only stuck around out of some misplaced sense of obligation.
“You’re wrong,” I say softly, not meeting her eyes as I begin stirring. “I’ve seen the way people react to me. Mitchell’s no different. He felt sorry for me. The poor girl with one leg. He saw me in pain, and now he’s gone.”
Emily sighs, standing and walking over to where I’m cooking. She places a hand on my shoulder, a gentle touch that makes me jerk, even though I know she’s only trying to comfort me.
“You’re not a charity case, Evie,” she says, her voice low and firm. “Mitchell doesn’t see you as something to fix. He’s not some knight on a white horse, and you’re not some damsel in distress.”
“But I am something that needs to be fixed,” I remind her as I glance down at my missing limb. “I am some damsel in distress. The only difference is, I don’t have some handsome prince willing to do so.”
“Mitchell is handsome,” she smirks. Seeing my glare, she tosses her hands in the air. “Okay, fine. I get it. No more talking about chocolate-hating Mitchell.”
The nickname causes me to giggle as I remember my conversation with the maniac who doesn’t like chocolate.
“What was number two?” I ask, trying to distract myself.
“What?”
“You said two things, ” I remind her. “You thoroughly went through the first one, so what’s the second one?”
“Oh,” she says. “They denied you the leg again?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “My insurance took a look at my physical and said that my mobility is sufficient enough that I don’t need one.”
“What the fuck,” she shouts. “Surely, they’re not that stupid.”
“Who knows what they’re thinking,” I say, draining the beef of its hot grease. “I can try again in six months. If I’m denied, then I’m allowed to appeal the decision. Not that it will make any difference.”
“That’s messed up,” She says, searching through the fridge for the taco toppings. “Will they let you buy one instead?”
“I’m sure they would,” I answer. “But, it’s like fifteen thousand for a basic leg and an additional two thousand for the fitting. I can’t just drop that kind of money out of nowhere.”
“Fifteen thousand?!” She exclaims, her voice rising. “That’s insane! How are they even getting away with that? It’s like they’re punishing you for needing help.”
“I know,” I mutter, mixing the seasoning in the beef. “And that’s not even including the follow-up appointments and adjustments. It’s just ridiculous.”
“Seriously, the system is broken,” she says, closing the fridge door with a sharp thud. “If I had that kind of cash, I’d help you out in a heartbeat.”
I offer a half-hearted smile, grateful for her support but knowing it’s not something anyone can easily fix. “I know, I appreciate it. But I’ll figure it out. I always do. Besides, even if you did have that much extra cash lying around, I wouldn’t accept it.”
Emily stops what she’s doing and turns to face me, her expression serious for a moment. “Why not?” she asks, her voice soft but insistent. “You wouldn’t accept help from me?”
I shrug, feeling a little guilty, but it’s the truth. “I can’t. You’ve already done so much for me. You’re my best friend, Em, not my bank account. I don’t want to put you in a position where you feel like you have to choose between helping me and, I don’t know, living your life.”
She crosses her arms, giving me that knowing look. “You think I haven’t thought about this before? Evie, you’re not a burden to me. You’re my family. I’ve been wanting to ask you to move in with me for ages but I knew you’d say no. My place is ground level. I live in King’s guest house, but he wouldn’t have minded. I’d do anything to help you, and if that means pitching in a little bit for something as important as your leg, I would. No hesitation.”
I stare at her, my heart tight. I know she means it, but I can’t help feeling like I’d be taking advantage. “But it’s not just about the money, Em. It’s about... everything else. You shouldn’t have to carry this weight for me.”
She exhales, clearly frustrated, and walks over to the table, sitting down with a huff. “Okay, fine. We won’t talk about money anymore. But I’ll tell you one thing. You’re not alone in this. Not now, not ever.”
I sit down at the table across from her, the weight of her words sinking in. I’ve always been independent and always prided myself on figuring things out on my own. But maybe it’s okay to accept help, even when it’s hard to ask for.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “But I’m still going to figure it out on my own. I’ve got this.”
She smiles at me, her eyes soft with affection. “I know you do. But that doesn’t mean you have to do it all by yourself.”
I nod, feeling a little lighter. Maybe it’s time I let someone else in, let someone else help me carry some of the load. But not just anyone. I glance at her, remembering Mitchell’s words. You don’t have to do it alone. He had been there, helping me through something so personal, so painful. Maybe he wasn’t just being nice. Maybe he really did care, even if I wasn’t ready to believe it.
Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.
“So,” Emily says, breaking the silence, “are we going to try to figure out why chocolate-hating Mitchell is playing in your head right now, or do I need to take the lead?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, we can talk about him. I’ve got a few questions of my own.”
“Oh, now we’re getting somewhere!” She leans forward, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Em spends the rest of the day at my apartment. I spent an hour asking questions about Mitchell. By the time that hour was over, Em was so sad.
It turns out she doesn’t know much about him. Apparently, not many of his family does. Emily had called several but they only knew basic things. His name. His birthday. His favorite food and his least favorite flavor.
Knox told us that Mitchell was under witness protection and that’s why he doesn’t tell many things about himself.
I heard the laughter in his voice, so I knew he was joking. But something in his tone told me that he wasn’t far off the truth.
Maybe he knows something no one else does.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Em says.
“I have to work,” I explain. “I won’t be leaving this apartment for the next few days.”
It may not seem like it, but Graphic and Web Design is time-consuming. I can spend hours tweaking one tiny detail. Everything must be perfect and exactly the way my clients want. Currently, I’m working on a startup website for a bakery that’s set to open in the next three months. She makes the most colorful pastries I’ve ever seen. I’m excited to try some when she opens.
“Alrighty,” she shrugs. “I’ll call you after my date tonight.”
“You’re going on a date?” I ask, all traces of my work shoved to the back of my mind. Em doesn’t date. She told me she never would after what she went through a few years back. That’s her story to tell, but apparently, Knox and Taylor were heavily involved in her rescue.
“No,” she laughs. “I’m going to get laid. Then I’m going home and taking a nice long bubble bath.”
“Gotcha,” I laugh.
She did try dating this one man a while back. He was a good person. I could see it every time I looked in his eyes. He treated her with kindness and love. But Em was miserable. She wasn’t unhappy. She wasn’t bored. And she told me the sex was incredible. But she was completely miserable. When she ended it with him, I saw the light rush back into her face. I don’t understand it, but I honestly believe that she’s happier on her own.
“Well, have fun,” I say. “Don’t forget the rain jacket.”
“Ew,” she shudders. “The last thing I want is a child. Don’t ruin sex for me, Evie.”
“Get out,” I laugh.
“Love you,” she yells as she rushes down the stairs.
“Love you,” I yell back before she reaches the bottom.
Crazy woman.
I move to my work desk and check my to-do list. Three book covers, two websites, and a meeting with a construction crew for a new logo design.
Yep, this is going to take a while.
Knowing that I won’t be leaving my desk for a while, I change into a shirt and some shorts, grab some water, and get to work.