Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
FOREST
I was half-asleep on the couch when I heard the faint ding of the doorbell.
Rousing me to full consciousness was harder these days.
The chronic fatigue I had from everything was intense, and while I couldn’t start any of the therapies the neurologist had recommended, I’d had enough in savings to pick up the prescription of muscle relaxers, which were helping.
But they were strong and left me feeling a bit like I was walking in a cloud.
It had been a rough week, and since the night I’d spent with Nash, things were weird. Not because of him, of course. He’d been kind and attentive, though he was very obviously holding himself back.
The morning after our, well, night together, I’d woken up alone. I had no idea how long he’d actually stayed with me, but it had been long enough to lull me into a comfortable sleep. It was the first time I’d woken up feeling refreshed in… God, I didn’t even know how long.
The house was empty now, just like it had been that first morning, but all that told me was that Nash was at work.
His schedule was steady, but the hours would have killed me.
He was on a long stretch of shifts before he had several days off, and I knew I’d need to give him an answer once he was home.
I couldn’t let this hang over us for much longer.
And the reality was: there was no alternative.
I wasn’t going to miraculously get better. This was a chronic illness. It was forever. There weren’t even any real treatments, let alone a cure. My entire life was going to be altered—even if my life wouldn’t be shortened.
So many things I loved doing were going to be out of reach. And even if I went into remission—which was entirely possible—remission wasn’t forever either.
Slipping off the couch, I shook myself out of my thought spiral and opened the door just as the person on the other side began knocking very loudly. The sound pounded through my temples, so I wasn’t the most polite when I wrenched the door open and said, “What?”
And then promptly froze because my tone was entirely useless to the person on the other side.
Dax stared at me with raised brows and a raised fist, poised to start pounding again. After a beat, he offered a sheepish smile. ‘Hungover?’
I blinked at him, then rolled my eyes, fighting off a smile because it was nice to have someone assume I was hungover instead of dealing with the shit-show going on in my body. ‘No. Bad day,’ I signed. Then I frowned. ‘You-here-why?’
I appreciated that Deaf blunt meant I didn’t have to make polite conversation with him and could just ask the question on my mind.
He moved his shoulder forward, and I realized he had a canvas bag hanging off it. ‘Nash let me borrow a couple of things from his garage. Here to return them.’
I stepped aside and beckoned him in. My body was, at the moment, behaving. The muscle relaxers were helping with the stiffness and the tremors, so I’d take the additional medication-induced brain fog if it meant being able to walk, talk, and sign normally.
Dax breezed past me, glancing around like he’d never really seen the place, though I was pretty sure he had.
I walked him through the kitchen and opened the door that led to the garage.
He gave me a thumbs-up and walked past me.
The garage was several steps down, which was not something I was interested in testing today, so I left the door hanging open and instead walked over to the counter and stared at the kettle.
Maybe I should offer him tea? I wasn’t used to hosting people.
Back home, most of my friends had gotten the hell out, and I never knew which new people I met were safe to tell about who I was.
It was easier when Creek was around to protect me, but once he enlisted and was sent away for basic—and eventually deployed—I had to figure it all out on my own.
Being a hermit was easier than learning to fight. But it was lonelier.
I turned when I heard a soft noise and saw Dax waving at me. ‘Thanks,’ he signed, closing the door behind him.
I nodded. ‘You want tea?’
He lifted a brow. ‘Sweet tea?’
We did, in fact, have sweet tea in the fridge. It was a staple when I was growing up, and Nash had learned to make it right when Creek moved in with him. It was one of the few small comforts I kept from home.
‘Yes,’ I told him.
Dax rubbed his hands together, then signed, ‘Kiss-fist sweet tea. Large glass please.’ I laughed as I grabbed one from the cabinet, filled it with ice, and then the tea from the pitcher. He let out a happy hum as he gulped half, then leaned on the counter and gave a chef’s kiss gesture.
‘Glad you like it. My grandma’s old recipe.’
He took another swig, cocking his hip against the cabinet, and glanced around. ‘Looks different.’ He gestured at the mirrors Nash had added to the wall for Tameron. ‘Dayton help?’
I shrugged. ‘I think so. He made changes before I moved here.’
Dax looked happy. ‘He cares a lot. That’s not common.’
It really wasn’t. Nash was cut from a different cloth, as my granny liked to say. He was a caregiver and a protector. The kind of guy who looked like it would take two seconds to get him in a murderous rage when he was, in reality, the biggest marshmallow I had ever met.
It was no wonder he’d engendered so much loyalty from so many people. I had a feeling there were more than just Creek, Bean, and Tameron who would die for Nash.
Dax waved at me again, and I realized I’d zoned out. ‘You okay? You want to sit down?’
I went to shake my head no, but I was trying to do better in listening to my body. I was tired. It wasn’t the worst flare day, but it wasn’t a good day either, and if I pushed myself, I was going to regret it.
‘Yes. Unless you need to leave,’ I added.
He shrugged and blew air past his lips. ‘Off work today. But if you want to be alone…’
‘No. I like the company.’ I hadn’t had a friend in so long, and I was hoping I didn’t seem overeager.
Dax didn’t seem bothered. He grinned and walked past me, dropping into Nash’s comfy chair and kicking his feet up on the table. I loved the way he made himself at home.
I’d never been able to do that. Southern propriety had taught me never to get too comfortable, to always respect my elders even when they didn’t deserve it, to never swear in front of polite company, and to always put my needs last.
I wanted to be less like the man I’d been trained to be and more like the man who was worthy of a friend like Dax, or a lover like Nash.
The thought of that made my chest hot, and I breathed through it so the blush wouldn’t become visible on my face. Dax would most definitely notice. As it was, he was watching me like a hawk as I crossed the room and sat.
When I was comfortable, he dropped his foot and leaned over his thighs. ‘Something’s wrong with you.’
I stared at him. ‘Headache.’
‘Bullshit.’
I sighed and bit my lip. I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not…entirely. But maybe I could tell him a little. Maybe I could unload this burden on someone willing to hear it.
‘Tell me,’ he urged. ‘We’re best friends now.’
My eyes went wide. ‘We are?’
He studied me for another beat, then nodded. ‘Yes. Best friends. Tell all.’
I laughed and passed a hand down my face. ‘This is a secret. Between us only.’ He nodded, but I ticked my finger back and forth, shaking my head no. ‘I know Deaf gossip. I mean it. Secret between us only.’
Bursting into laughter, Dax held up his hands in surrender, then made a locking motion over his lips, then over his wrists. ‘Lips and hands locked. I promise I won’t tell anyone.’
I took a breath. Shit. Was I really going to do this? I tried to swallow, but it got stuck in my throat, and it took me a moment to get it down. My hands were shaking just a bit as I lifted them. ‘I’m sick.’
Dax’s brows shot up. ‘Like…flu?’
‘No. Not contagious. Something else. Chronic illness,’ I spelled. ‘My brother doesn’t know.’
He looked startled. ‘Who knows?’
‘Nash.’
He didn’t look surprised, which was saying something. ‘Okay. I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ I wanted to tell him not to say sorry because it felt too much like pity, but I knew he was only trying to be kind. ‘I got fired from my job.’
He made a noise of outrage. ‘Fired? For being sick? Sue them!’
‘I can’t. I was an adjunct professor,’ I explained. ‘The rest of my summer classes were canceled, and they decided not to pick me up for the fall semester. They said not enough enrollment. Nothing they did was illegal, but it means no insurance. I can’t afford the physical therapy I need.’
Dax looked horrified. ‘You come work for me.’
The offer was so sweet I kind of wanted to cry.
Instead, I smiled and shook my head. ‘I can’t.
It’s a neurological problem, and it affects my ability to move.
’ And think. And speak sometimes. Not to mention the seizures and the falling.
I would be the biggest liability in his shop, even if I were just at the front desk.
Dax didn’t argue. He just looked sad. ‘What will you do?’
‘I have a…’ My fingers hesitated, then I shrugged. ‘A friend who offered to help me get coverage. But it’s complicated.’
Dax lifted his brows. ‘How?’
‘I have to do something I’m not sure I should.’
Dax put his finger to his lips for a moment. ‘Don’t tell me. Then I can’t testify.’
I laughed. That was fair. It wasn’t exactly criminal behavior, but it was probably—technically—unethical behavior. Not that I put much stock into the concept of private insurance in America and how fucked most of us were.
But it went against everything I’d been taught growing up. Not to mention it made me feel a bit like a leech. I knew Nash wouldn’t want me to think of it that way. He’d go out of his way, in fact, to make sure I didn’t.
But alone—in my own head—it was hard to quiet those ugly voices telling me I wasn’t doing enough.
‘You need help, right?’ Dax asked.
I nodded, hating the answer was yes.
‘Someone wants to help you? I don’t understand the problem.’