Chapter 7
Adam
Dorian’s front door was open when I knocked. A text arrived seconds later directing me to come in.
Not unheard of for Stone to refuse to answer the door but still let me in, and yet worry soured in my gut. He’d been even more reclusive than usual lately, and I didn’t know what exactly I’d be finding today.
“Stone?”
A low, clipped woof came in response, which explained why Bear hadn’t been at the front to greet me. I padded through the entryway and down the short hallway to the kitchen. Lights were all off, no sound coming from anywhere. This, still, wasn’t entirely unusual, but the stale scent in here, like the windows and doors hadn’t been opened in weeks, set my teeth on edge.
I entered the living room slowly, knowing Bear wouldn’t appreciate me bursting into his space, even if he had sent the response to my call. When I saw him, I swallowed hard.
Bear lay parallel to the couch, giant head tucked into his paws, and inspected me with his forlorn set of amber Alaskan Malamute eyes. On the couch, stretched out under a blanket, was Dorian, who didn’t so much as shift to look at me as I slowly approached the chair.
“Hey,” I said, speaking as quietly as I could.
“Doc.”
No shift of his head to look at me, but at least he’d responded. There had been a time or two when I’d come and thought maybe he was catatonic, but once he’d been asleep with earplugs in, and the other… well, I didn’t like to think about that time. It’d been a year since then, though. He was doing great.
Maybe not great, but he was doing okay.
“Brought you breakfast.” I set the bag onto the table and Bear perked up enough to sniff around the bag. I pulled the homemade doggy biscuit Ethan stocked from its waxy sleeve and set it on the ground for him.
“Thanks.” Voice gruff, Dorian likely hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone but Bear in days.
Guilt slashed through me, piercing my chest. I should get here more often. We all should.
His gaze set straight ahead, I went about my business removing items from the bakery bag, trying not to let my internal chant willing him to move bleed out into the space between us and spook him.
Bear wandered over and set his chin on my leg, studying me with mournful eyes again. I ran a hand over his head, the black-and-white pattern of his fur making his vivid gaze almost haunting, particularly since I could feel his expression.
“I know, bud. That’s a good biscuit, isn’t it?” I said as though he was thanking me for the treat and not begging me to help his dad.
“Ethan makes those?” Stone asked, shifting forward and slowly rolling to the side to a seated position. He moved like he had a pounding hangover or like he’d aged a hundred years while lying there and everything in him hurt.
“He gets them from someone local, but he’s not the mastermind. Seems to be a pretty good little snack for this fellow.” I petted Bear’s head again, imbuing as much tenderness into the gesture as I could.
Stone made a sound of acknowledgment as he lifted the cup from the drink tray and brought it to his lips. Just before he took a sip, he pulled it back.
Brows scrunched, he asked, “Is it?—”
“Decaf. Of course.”
With a nod, he finally took a drink.
We’d need to talk, but I could give him some quiet with his coffee before I dove in, so we sat in silence, only the low hum of his air conditioner out back to accompany us.
After a few minutes, he finally made eye contact and nodded. Ready.
“How are you?” No point in pretending this was simply a social call.
He took a moment to breathe through his thoughts, measured and careful, but not avoiding, I didn’t think.
“I’m okay.”
I chuckled lightly, and one side of his mouth tipped up a fraction. I’d take it.
“You seeing the doc still?” His therapist, but doc felt less invasive.
He nodded but said, “Been a few weeks since I made it in.”
His chest rose and fell, and I recalled how he’d describe feeling like words and emotions got tangled up in his chest and couldn’t find a way out. How they piled up until it felt like so much pressure in his body, he couldn’t stand it.
“Hard to get out right now?” I asked, knowing that leaving his home was often extremely difficult for him.
His jaw flexed under his scraggly beard. “Yeah, worse the last few days, too.”
My heart dropped. “I’m going to call Dr. Corrigan. We’ll get you set up with a virtual session, and I’m going to get you an appointment to see about your meds, too.”
His lips thinned ever so slightly and his nostrils flared. My throat tightened and I moved to sit by him, Bear settling in with his head on Stone’s knee.
“I’m tired of this,” he said, teeth gritted against the crushing weight of things.
“I’m sorry it’s bad right now. Have you had any?—”
“Not really.”
Pain lanced through me, but I pressed on. “No plans?”
“No. No plans. Just… tired.”
Not the reassurance I’d prefer, but he’d answered honestly. There’d been a time when he’d said yes to both. There’d been a time… I shook that off. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry it’s so hard right now. It will get better.”
His chin dropped in acknowledgment, just barely, and he blinked away the tears that’d glossed his eyes. With a gusty swear, he shook his head. “Thanks for coming.”
“Should’ve come sooner. You seemed good at the wedding.” He’d been there before the wedding, early enough to give Tristan his support, and then stood in the back until the ceremony had ended. I’d checked in, confirmed he was doing okay…
But you were distracted by Jo and there’s no denying that.We’d been paired up in the wedding party, so I’d escorted her down the aisle. I’d danced with her a few times, too. It was the closest we’d ever been, but in the haze of the celebration and everyone dancing together, it had mostly felt fun and light and beautiful.
I was glad I’d enjoyed the moment, but guilt pressed in on me for how I’d missed the signs that Stone had not been okay.
“I’m glad I went. I’m happy for him.” He didn’t really know Winnie, but he loved Tristan, and he’d shown up.
If I thought about how difficult it must’ve been for him to show up to something like that, it made me want to curl up in a corner and weep. It was the curse of empathy and also the challenge of being a person who cared about his family. Stone and I might not share blood like Ethan and I did, but he was my brother.
“Sip your coffee and eat that breakfast sandwich I brought while I start your dishwasher and check out what kind of nonsense you’ve got in your fridge. Then you can get showered up while I run to the store.”
He sniffed again but focused on the bag in front of him. “’Kay.”
And so we did. I cleaned up his kitchen and tried not to let the fact that he’d clearly been living off tuna and dry cereal for at least a few days, since Beast or Barbie had checked, decimate me. I texted the guys with an update, set up a meeting between all of us, and then I got some laundry started while he got in the shower. With a quick run to the market and back, I settled everything I could before leaving him.
“Cookie’s coming by tomorrow, okay?” I said as I hauled him into a hug. No surprise, but he’d lost some weight. He’d been doing well, had bulked back up a bit and he’d even been coming into the office a few times a month there for a while, but something had shifted for him, and I hated it.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“No thanks needed. And the doc’s calling you at three. Answer, okay?”
He nodded rapidly. “I will. I swear.”
With a hand on his neck, I looked in his eyes. “You are not alone. I love you, and I am back here to couch surf the second you tell me you need that.”
He blinked—all the acknowledgment I’d get for now.
“Let me hear from you later if you can,” I said and released him.
“Wilco.”
This little twinge of sass made me shoot him a smile. His “Will comply” response was an old joke between us. When he had it in him, he liked to tell me I was a bossy nursemaid. And I could be.
“You better. See you soon, Stone.” I patted Bear one last time.
“See ya, Doc.”
Out into the small yard and then to the trail of pines that made up a fraction of the sprawling tree farm he’d bought before he ever moved here, I breathed in deep, steadying breaths as I stomped my way to my car. I’d never been more thankful that he’d hired a manager for the farm than I was now because seeing these trees fail would kill him. Outsourcing their survival while he focused on his own was the right call for now.
A hike would do me good. Fresh mountain air, the sun, the trees, the glory of creation… it’d clear my head and maybe, ease my aching heart. I prayed it would, at least, and yet something else was nudging into my peripheral thoughts, which I couldn’t allow.
By the time I got to the driver’s-side door, it was everything I could do not to head into town. Not to search for Jo and find her and wrap her in my arms and bury my face in her neck and seek solace in her.
She’d hold me until I was ready to talk, and I just knew she’d be patient if I didn’t get there—if I couldn’t find words to pour out what seeing my friend like this did to me. She wouldn’t push or guilt. She’d just let me find peace for a moment.
She knew nothing about this. She hardly knew me. But something in my gut told me seeing her would help. Everything is better with her.
I couldn’t do that, though. It would be completely unfair to both of us to use her this way—and wouldn’t that be what it was? Seeking comfort and deep breaths from her when I had no way to give her anything more than I already had?
Good thing I knew how to deny myself—I could be a bossy little nurse to myself just like I could be with my friends. What I needed was fresh air and sunlight and time on the trails. I didn’t need a woman who wasn’t mine to need—who deserved a future I couldn’t give her.
I couldn’t.