Chapter 11
Eleven
Mira
I bolted upright, instantly regretting the swift movement as the pain from my well-paddled bottom exploded.
The ringing which woke me up from a deep sleep wasn’t from a fire alarm like it had been in my dream, but from my phone alarm.
I grabbed it from the nightstand and tapped the stop button while simultaneously rubbing the sandy sleep from my eyes.
Only it started vibrating in my hand almost immediately.
And when I looked down to see who was calling me this early in the morning, I noticed the time and it wasn’t early.
Shit, shit, shit! I pressed the call answer button as I untangled myself from the blankets.
“Hey, where are you?” Cleo’s urgent whisper had my stomach flipping.
“I’m late!” I squealed.
“Babe, I know. Your shift started twenty minutes ago.”
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!” I jumped out of bed, but with the sheet not quite untangled, my backside hit the floor and I swallowed a scream of pain. “I’m coming!”
“Relax, I covered for you.” She said it so breezily, I stopped in my tracks. “According to the now altered schedule, you’re doing my shift tomorrow morning and I’m doing yours now.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t supposed to work this morning, but I went in to talk to Silas about switching shifts next week, and he told me that you hadn’t arrived yet for your shift, so we conspired and doctored the schedule.”
“Clee! I don’t want you guys getting in trouble for me.”
“It’s okay. No one noticed and luckily because I wanted to catch Silas before he started his shift, I wasn’t even late.”
“No, it’s not okay. I’m on my way.”
“Mira, if you show up now, Silas and I will get caught, so sit your ass back down on the bed and get your bearings.”
I heaved a sigh into the phone. “Okay, but I’m totally making this up to you guys.”
“I know how you can make it up to Silas,” she said sounding almost salacious. “But don’t worry about me. You’ve covered for me a million times over the years.”
“Silas? How could I make it up to Silas?”
“Dude, if rolling your eyes made a sound, you’d be hearing it right now. He’s totally in love with you.”
“No, he’s not. He’s just a flirt. And he’s a sub. We are not compatible.”
“Okay, babe. Whatever you say, but he’s actually a Switch. And now I gotta go. My break’s over. See you in class?”
“Yeah, of course. And again, I’m so sorry I screwed up, Clee. I love you and even though I can never repay you, I’ll start trying by buying you lunch today.”
“Bestie, I love you most, but I also love Mac and Cheese so…” She giggled as she signed off, leaving me with a smile that lasted until Wes’s name showed up on my caller ID.
I ignored it and I got ready for school. The next time he called I was just heading out the door. I debated ignoring it again, but decided it was best if I got it over with.
“Hello.”
“Hey, honey, just calling to check on you.”
“I’m fine, Wes. There’s no need to check on me. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Right. But it’s always part of the deal when I scene with someone, especially when the play was so intense.” There was seriousness in his tone that made shivers dance up my spine. I grit my teeth at the reaction my body had to him.
“Okay, yes, you’re right. That’s Dom 101. But I’m telling you I’m fine, except that I slept through my alarm, missed my shift, and I’m going to be late for class if I don’t hang up now.”
“Okay. Can you text me when you’re at the hospital later then? I just want to see you’re okay with my own eyes.”
I rolled mine. “Feeling guilty for torturing me with that awful rubber paddle, Wes?”
“Never,” he said, and I could hear his smile in it.
“Fine. I’ll text you later.” And I hung up before he could say anything else cute.
A few hours later, I was in Professor Holland’s class, and he was shaking me awake.
“Miss Wilcox!”
My eyes flew open, and I blinked. How the hell had I fallen asleep?
“Oh, I’m—” I looked around at the empty classroom and swallowed hard. “So sorry, Professor.”
His brow furrowed. “If I’m not mistaken, your next class is about to start.”
“Yes, Sir.”
His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized my face, focusing just below my eyes where I knew I had dark bruise-like bags. “You’re not sleeping well?”
I shook my head.
“Is falling asleep in class something we need to deal with, or was it a one-time fluke?”
“It’ll never happen again, Sir.”
“Okay then. I’ll let it go.”
I grabbed my bag and books, rising on shaky legs. Sleeping in, missing my shift, and now falling asleep in class—a trifecta of irresponsibility.
Not giving Professor Holland any time to change his mind, I headed for the door.
“And Mira. If it does happen again…” he called in a sing-song tone as I passed through the door.
I looked back and saw his serious expression.
“You won’t be able to fall asleep in class because you won’t be sitting for a week when I’m done with you.”
I licked my lips, heat flushing my face. “Yes, Sir.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” He nodded, collecting his own things and I scrambled out of the room.
Maybe I was being the worst kind of asshole, but I didn’t text Wes when I got to the hospital, and not just because my mom had called me two hours earlier to tell me she was being released either.
I just couldn’t. Not when, after just one night and one day with him, I was so obviously falling apart.
Besides a few late assignments, I’d been the picture of responsibility.
I was on time for my classes, and I stayed awake through them, I didn’t miss my shifts, and I was getting straight A’s.
Plus, I was there for my mom, even if she didn’t acknowledge it, I was doing great.
I mean from the outside that is. But maybe that’s what it was all about, showing up, handling everything like a pro, and never letting them see you sweat, despite falling apart on the inside.
So yeah, ignoring him was the plan, my only plan. At least until I got my shit together. Then, when everything was back to normal, I’d call him and explain.
But of course, he didn’t give up and following my plan was increasingly stressful. Ignoring his calls, voice messages, and texts was getting harder, especially when he was starting to get that Dom tone that made my knees weak, so I shot him a reply to his last text.
Mira:
I know I said I’d text but stuff came up. And now I need space. A lot of it.
Wes:
Okay. I trust you know what you’re doing and that if you’re not okay, you’ll call me.
Mira:
Thank you for treating me like a capable person.
Wes:
You are, so why wouldn’t I?
I sighed as I read his reply. How could he be so sure when I wasn’t? And wouldn’t a capable person have actually messaged him like she’d agreed to. I groaned. I had to end this. It wasn’t healthy for me, and it wasn’t healthy for him either.
Mira:
I don’t know. But I need to be clear, I won’t be calling.
Our time together was fun, but it’s not what I need right now.
And now is all I have the capacity to deal with.
I hope you understand, but even if you don’t, this is how it’s going to be.
Please don’t contact me again. And if you happen to be at Rawhide, please don’t be offended, but I’ll be avoiding you.
I stared waiting for the speech dots to show up, but they didn’t come.
“Of course they didn’t, you narcissist, you told him not to contact you again,” I mumbled under my breath.
I was just about to power my phone off in frustration when it started buzzing in my hand again.
For a second, deep down beneath my annoyance, my romance novel loving heart hoped that he wouldn’t accept my decision, that he’d fight for me, sweep me off my feet, and rescue me from this ridiculous attempt at being something I wasn’t.
And as angry as that weakness made me, that hope was crushed when I looked down and saw it wasn’t Wes calling.
It was Dr. Biard, my mom’s oncologist.
My stomach sank. Something was wrong and I knew it.
I knew it because the universe was punishing me for my slip up, for my mini vacation from reality.
Or maybe it was just teaching me, by throwing everything it could at me, that I had to learn to swim no matter how hard I fought against the current because there would be no breaks.
Maybe he just wanted to touch base since he hadn’t had a chance to talk to me before I took mom home, I thought, being hopeful?
“Does that thing ever stop? Who keeps calling you?” my mom asked as I headed for the back door.
“Cleo. She’s having boyfriend troubles,” I lied, opening the screen door. “Sit tight. I’ll just be a minute.”
The door slammed shut with a deafening thwack, and it felt like an omen as I answered the call. “Dr Biard?”
“Miss Wilcox?”
“Yes, it’s me. What’s going on?”
“Mira, I wasn’t sure if your mom would tell you what we talked about this morning, so I thought I better touch base with you.”
“Okay. No, she didn’t even mention you were by the hospital to see her. Although I haven’t had a minute to really ask her much since I’ve been getting her settled. I’ve been waiting to hear back from her doctor at the hospital too. What’s happening?”
“So, our tests came back showing she has radiation-induced esophageal stricture…” He paused. “Narrowing of the esophagus from the radiation treatment. I believe Doctor Martin mentioned it was a possibility.”
“Yes, he did.”
“That area is cancer-free but we did find more malignant growth in her lungs.”
I breathed. That’s all I could do. In. Out. In. Out. Nothing more, nothing less.
“We can solve the eating issue with medications and by inserting balloon dilators to stretch the area. And if that doesn’t work, we can insert a stent.
But these would only be comfort measures so she could continue to eat food.
” He went on to explain some other options, one of which was to do nothing at all.
“Nothing?”