Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
André stayed with me over the weekend, but had to be back at work Monday morning. With Penn’s paternity leave starting early, André had to pick up the slack. Thankfully, Dylan was able to call in some favors to stay with me until the concussion faded.
I should have been resting, but I just couldn’t.
My mind was racing a million miles an hour, wondering where Regan was now.
He was likely lying in wait, plotting his next attack.
Dylan watched from the barstools on the counter as I moved around the kitchen.
I was slow, but still managed to make coffee for the both of us.
Though when it came to the dishwasher, that’s where I started swaying. Dylan hastened around the counter to help me to the couch, where he forced me to sit down. “You’re finding your place out here, aren’t you?” he asked.
“I think I am. I mean, I’m adamant that I don’t want to be a kept boy, but I’m starting to think that it might not be a bad idea. André takes really good care of me. I really like him, Dylan…” I paused, looking over at my brother. “I love him.”
Dylan eyed me skeptically. “The same way you loved Regan?”
The idea that I ever thought I was in love with that man was laughable at best. But I had to face it: there was a time where I once thought he loved me.
I suppose I did love Regan, but I loved a version of him that didn’t exist.
“No,” I finally answered. “This is different. André’s different. He’s like… walking into a house and suddenly knowing you’re home.”
Dylan’s hardened features relaxed—slightly. “You think you’ll stay out here once all this is over?”
“I want to. I really do, but I can’t leave you on your own. And what about Mom and Dad.”
“Mom and Dad knew they would have an empty nest eventually. You’ve made your peace with Dad and Mom’s got Aunt Cheryl, so she’ll be fine.” Dylan set his coffee cup on the table and scrubbed his hand over his face. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”
I drew my legs up to my chest, waiting for Dylan to continue.
He took a deep breath, and on the exhale blurting out, “I’ve been seeing someone.”
I blinked, stunned. We lived together, often spending every waking minute together as far as the trial was concerned. “How did I not know? Have I been that self-absorbed?”
“Yes, but for all the right reasons,” Dylan said. “I didn’t want you to know. Not until we knew what we were doing. It’s been casual.”
“Do I know her?”
Dylan fidgeted with his fingers, looking everywhere but at me. “Uh, yeah, I think you do…”
“Well, spit it out!”
Dylan hid his face in his hands. It's Emmeline Harford.”
“What?” If I had anything in my mouth, I would have spit it right out. “You mean the same Emmeline Harford that lived next door to us our whole lives?”
Dylan sighed. “Yep.”
“The one you teased relentlessly for eighteen years?”
“That’s the one.”
Dylan stood up and paced the length of the living room floor. “A while back, she was in Savannah for work and asked to catch up. For some crazy reason I agreed. One drink led to another, which ended with me bringing her back to the apartment.”
I tried to think back. “Where was I?”
“Remember when the doctors gave you that new anxiety medication and you basically slept for a week?”
I nodded, eyes narrowing. “I remember a thump against my door…” My eyes went wide. “Was that you?”
Dylan had an embarrassed smile on his face. “She kicked her shoes off a little too aggressively.”
“Okay, why are you bringing that up now?”
Dylan paled and for a second, I wondered if he was about to be sick. “She’s pregnant.”
Stunned, I floundered, looking for something to say.
Nervous, Dylan continued to talk. He’d hooked up with Emmeline just before the trial, and the condom broke. She was on the pill, so they didn’t panic. Then last week, she called to say that she was pregnant.
“What do you want to do?” I asked, turning to grab a blanket off the back of the couch.
Dylan reclaimed his seat next to me. “I said I’d support whatever decision she made. She’s still unsure.”
“What does that have to do with me being out here?”
“If we’re going to do this, then it would make sense for us to live together. Either I’d move her in, or I’d go back home.”
My brother still hadn’t looked at me. He stared across the room, finding a spot below the TV particularly fascinating.
“Are you scared?” I asked.
Dylan scoffed. “I’m fucking terrified.”
“You do what you have to do,” I said. “I’ll be fine, and you’d be nothing less than an amazing father—look how you’ve taken care of me.”
“Well, you did practically cling to my leg for six months, threw up on me, and I haven’t forgotten the time you—ow!”
My loving brother earned himself a swift punch to the shoulder before he could finish the rest of that sentence.
It took days for the symptoms of the concussion to subside. I’d had them before, but I usually powered through them on my own. I’d never been spoiled like this.
Dylan stayed for a week before his job started nagging him about his return. When André wasn’t at work, he was plastered to my side. While the last of the symptoms faded, André managed to weasel his way into a couple extra days off.
Truthfully, I could have managed myself, but I was too scared to be left alone. Nor did I want to risk Regan setting his sights on André. I’d never live with myself if he got hurt.
All too quickly, the day came that André had no choice but to be in the office.
I sat in the middle of the bed and watched him get dressed.
I hadn’t had much energy for cleaning, and he'd been too swept up with me to schedule the cleaner, but none of it seemed to bother him. He moved through the clutter like it wasn’t even there.
Once he’d cleared a path to the closet, I rubbed the spot on my side that somehow still ached—it had to be all in my head. The bruises had faded, but the pain lingered.
Though it wasn’t the pain that brought tears to my eyes. I tried to wipe them away before André noticed, but the hitch in my breathing gave it away. He rushed over to the bed, shirtless and pants undone.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, softly brushing through my hair
I couldn’t breathe. The stitches had come out, but my head still hurt. Anything that raised my heart rate made that worse, but holding back the sobs was irritating my chest and I had to pick my battles. “I don’t think I can do it,” I whispered.
“What, the cleaning?” André glanced around the room. “Don’t worry about that right now. We’ll go out tonight and—”
“That’s not what I mean,” I said, laughing and wiping my eyes. “I’ll clean.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
André climbed into the bed and pulled me into his chest, kissing the top of my forehead.
He’d quickly learned that method banished any signs of a panic attack.
His hands brushed my hair away from my face, still effortlessly minding the spot where the stitches were.
As I thought about him letting go so he could leave, the tears flowed down my cheeks uncontrollably.
André did the only thing he knew to do: he held me.
If I was honest, I didn’t know what else would comfort me.
Maybe if Regan suddenly fell into a vat of toxic waste or spontaneously combusted—but I had to be realistic.
By the time I could talk again, I’d made André late for work.
“I don’t think I’m ready to be by myself,” I sniffled.
André was silent long enough to make me wonder what he was thinking. A big part of me still expected him to send me home. Every day that he didn’t surprised me. I knew I was a handful, and worried that every panic attack or new trigger would be the final straw for him.
I prepared myself to shake it off and start tidying up when André spoke. “Come with me.”
I spun to look at him, wiping my nose with my sleeve. “I can’t do that. I’ll just be a distraction.”
André snatched a few tissues from the box on the nightstand, offering them to me.
“No more than my phone. I have a couch, and a TV—you’ll be comfortable.
” Once my face was clean, he tossed the tissues aside and grabbed my hands.
“I promised to take care of you, and I have an easy day. I have one meeting after lunch and another on the way home, but you can come with me.”
My head started to throb, and I rubbed my temples. “You’re already late.”
“I think my emails will survive,” he said with a smile. “I mean it, just come hang out in the office. It’ll be nice to have the company.”
“And someone to occupy the couch so you don’t fall asleep on it?”
“Yes, that’ll be helpful.”
I reluctantly agreed, and André left me on the bed to finish getting dressed. I washed up in the sink and ran a brush through my hair, trying to cover my scar.
Painkillers made me sluggish, so most of my day was spent on André’s office couch with a blanket.
He only woke me up for lunch and the second he left for his meeting, I laid down again, fighting to keep my eyes open until I heard the lock click into place.
We were on the twelfth floor of a building that had security everywhere, but I didn’t trust any of it.
Since I’d been sleeping, André had kept his curtains closed. When he woke me up sometime later, I had no idea what time it was. He gently stroked my hair and kissed my cheek until I forced my eyes open. “What time is it?” I asked, sitting up.
“Almost four,” André said, rising from his knees to sit next to me. “I have to meet a photographer at a listing, but I thought we could grab dinner on the way home?”
“Could dinner be takeout on the couch? These painkillers are no joke.”
“This suit is itchy and uncomfortable, so yes, takeout sounds great.”
As I bent over to tie my shoes, my bladder made it clear that it wasn’t going to be ignored for long. “Can I use the bathroom first?”
“Sure.”
André gave me a kiss and while he packed his things away, I ventured out of the office to find the bathrooms. Only a few steps away from André’s door, my heart started to race.