Chapter One
~Felix~
I check my phone for the fourth time to make sure it’s the right address, as if I have forgotten how to read and might be at the wrong place.
But I hate going to places I have never been to before, so I check it one more time, just in case.
When I’m certain that I’m at the right location, I get out of my car and walk up the sidewalk, toward the gray, one-story house.
It has a small porch with some weathered wicker chairs set out on it.
I walk up the steps and across the porch to the dark blue door.
I knock on it, before stepping back and waiting.
It isn’t long before the door swings open, and a man in his forties looks out at me.
He smiles at me as he swings the door open wider. “You must be Mr. Wake,” the man says as he holds his hand out. His brown hair is cut short and gray hair is starting to mix in. He has dark blue eyes that are hidden behind black-framed glasses.
“Yes, I am,” I say as I take his hand and shake it. “Just call me Felix though.”
“I’m James Dixon. I was the one that talked to you last night on the phone.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say as I look up at him. Sadly, I seem to have to look up at half the population. Not half the adult population, but half the population as a whole.
“Please, come in,” he says as he holds the door open for me. “I’m glad to finally meet with you in person. I’ve been very busy, so I was unable to do the interviews, but Dani thought you were the best choice, so here we are.”
“Yes, thanks for giving me this opportunity,” I say with a smile.
“Right this way,” he says. “You can meet Lane, and then I’ll show you around the house.”
“Okay,” I say, looking around curiously as he leads me through the kitchen and into the living room.
The house is very nice but noticeably bare.
It looks like someone had just moved in and had forgotten to decorate any of the rooms. There are no pictures on the walls or anything that looks personalized.
Everything looks like it was bought from a home décor store and just stuck on the wall or on a shelf without any meaning to it.
It reminds me more of a house ready for market than one actually being lived in.
The television is on in the living room, and in the middle of the room is a man in a wheelchair. His back is facing us, but he turns his head a little in our direction, telling me he’s heard us.
“This is Lane,” James says, and the man turns his head a bit more in our direction.
“James, if that is someone to babysit me, I swear to God I’m going to be so pissed,” he growls.
Clearly, I’ve made an excellent first impression, and I haven’t even opened my mouth yet. Generally, I get a few words out before people decide to hate me.
“It’s not,” James says calmly. “Go ahead, introduce yourself.”
I walk around to the front of the wheelchair the man is sitting in.
His head turns as he tries to follow the sound of my footsteps with his ears.
I can see a stretch of a healing red cut running along his left cheekbone, hidden slightly by the dark sunglasses he’s wearing.
Even though he is in his own home, the fact that he is blind must bother him enough that he feels like he needs to hide it.
He has a blanket lying over his lap, but I know from the interview that he had hurt his left leg.
All this from a drunk driver hitting his car.
He’ll be blind forever because of another man’s negligence.
I guess I would be a bit of a grouch too if someone had ripped my vision away from me.
“Hi, Mr. Price, my name is Felix Wake,” I say.
“And, Mr. Wake, what are you doing in my home?” he asks as venom drips off his words.
I look over at James and raise an eyebrow as I realize I’m not welcome.
“Felix is going to be assisting you until you get better,” James says.
“I don’t need help, because I am not helpless.
” He’s scowling at us and I know that if I could see his eyes they’d be glaring at me.
He looks to be in his mid or late thirties with rich brown hair that looks a bit unkempt.
The right side is sticking straight up, and the left lies naturally.
His facial hair looks scruffy, like it hasn’t been trimmed in a while.
His cheeks look hollow like he is beyond exhaustion, but it is clear that this man used to be quite active by the way his T-shirt clings around his muscular arms and stomach.
So honestly, it’s not my fault that I can’t help my straying eyes.
“Felix will be staying in the guest bedroom and will take care of the cleaning, cooking, and care for you,” James explains, and I hope he hasn’t noticed my betraying eyes.
Lane laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. “It’s my house; I can decide what to do with it and how to take care of myself,” he says. It’s like every time he opens his mouth he looks just a bit uglier. Who am I kidding? The man is gorgeous.
“Well, Lane, he’s moving in tomorrow,” James says. “So, you better get used to it.”
Lane seems to decide that he’s done with the conversation and starts to ignore us. Instead, he aims all his concentration toward the TV, making James sigh. “Right this way, Felix.”
I follow as he leads me over to the hallway. Even these walls are empty of pictures and color. Just white walls, white trim. It feels sterile, like a hospital or a school.
“First door on the left is the bathroom,” he says. I glance through the open doorway as he continues walking. “Next door is Lane’s room. Then yours is right here.”
Lane’s bedroom door is closed, but James pushes open the door to the guest bedroom.
I peek in, but from here all I can see is the full-sized bed.
I run my hand through my ear-length, blond hair and pray that I had made the right decision coming here.
I worry at a tip of my hair before dropping my hand down.
I glance over at James, who is staring at his phone. “Is it alright with me being here?” I ask a bit skeptically. Clearly, the occupant of the house didn’t want me within ten miles of him, and we hadn’t even shared words yet beyond an introduction.
“Of course. Don’t listen to Lane. I make the decisions, not him.
He thinks he can do everything, but I don’t want him alone all day.
He can be reckless at times, and I know if he’s alone he’ll end up doing something stupid and hurting himself.
Really, he’s not a bad guy. He’s is just…
not taking this well. He’s angry and upset, so he seems to be lashing out at anyone that looks his way.
He is used to being independent and self-sufficient, not relying on others. You alright with this?”
“Yes, of course,” I say as I glance into my room. It looks as bare and lifeless as the rest of the house.
“Here,” James says, pulling my attention back to him.
I notice that he’s holding out a credit card, so I reach for it.
“Buy groceries for Lane and yourself with this. It can also be used for whatever necessities are needed. Dani said she’d already gone over all the details with you. Are there any questions?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I say as I clutch the credit card in my hand, slightly unsure of what to do with it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says. He shakes my hand again, but for some reason, I feel like “if you decide to come back” had been hanging onto the end of his words.
He turns around and continues back through the hallway, so I follow him into the living room.
“He’s not gone yet?” Lane grumbles.
“Not yet,” James says.
“Did you tell him the last babysitter didn’t make it a day?” he asks like he’s proud of himself. I’m kind of proud of him because I can’t imagine that would be easy to do.
“Nope, but now he’s well aware,” James says with a grimace.
I can’t help but grin. To me, that sounds like a challenge, and one thing I do enjoy is a challenge. “I’ll be back tomorrow to start,” I say, trying to sound very happy about it. “Can’t wait to see you again, Lane!”
“Don’t bother coming back,” he growls, and I almost laugh as I head out the door.
***
I knock on the door, but James must have seen me pull up because he pulls the door open before my hand even hits a second time.
“Good to see you back,” he says eagerly. “Sorry to run, but I need to be home by six. You have any questions?”
The bag is weighing down my arm, and right now I just want to find a place to put it. “Not that I can think of,” I say.
“Here’s my number. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” he says as he passes me a piece of paper with a list of contacts. His number is handwritten at the top, and I notice the rest of the numbers are for doctors. Not a single contact looks like a family member’s.
“Thank you,” I say.
He smiles and passes by me, leaving me in the house alone with the man who hates my guts.
That’s alright, I’ve lived with people that hated me before.
How could this one be any worse? I carry my suitcase down the hall, between the white, looming walls, and set it just inside my bedroom door.
Then I walk into the living room where Lane is sitting before the TV that’s playing a movie.
He doesn’t even look in my direction as I walk in, instead, he stays facing the TV with his blanket around his lap and sunglasses firmly in place.
“Lane, it’s Felix,” I say. “How are you doing today?”
He doesn’t move, just completely ignores me as he taps the edge of his wheelchair with his finger.
“Do you need anything?” I ask.
Silence. The TV is playing The Hangover, which he doesn’t seem to be enjoying. It’s the part where the man jumps out of the trunk, but he’s acting like it’s a movie about the Holocaust.
I walk over to him. “Is your water full?” I ask as I pick the bottle up. It’s full, but the water is warm. “I’ll get you something cold. Just water or something else?”
“Maybe I want my water warm,” he says.