Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
florence
The cut on my arm is nothing compared to vice-like pressure in my chest as I sit alone in the urgent care waiting room.
It happened so fast. Megan kept me close as we maneuvered our way through the crews.
We stood off to the side, away from the cabin under construction, when there was a loud snap behind us.
She was quick, shoving me out of the way, the logs narrowly missing us.
I lost my footing and ended up whacking my arm on a stack of planks.
I’m a little shaken but fine.
Those words did nothing to reassure Dex, no matter how many times I repeated them. After disappearing, he returned, stony faced and adamant the injury needed to be checked out.
I kept quiet, noting his silent distress. It intensified when he asked Megan to drive us here.
He’s a proud man to a fault. Encouraging him to drop his defenses is a delicate game, one that requires patience.
There’ve been no more attacks, but the other symptoms act up occasionally, tinnitus being the biggest culprit.
Telling him to take it easy is still a challenge, and it was clear that without his hearing aid, he was struggling.
I hadn’t realized how much until his haunted eyes glued themselves to my lips.
For the first time, fear shadowed his features, tanned skin ashen, body riddled with worry. Then, he disappeared.
Megan stopped me from running after him while she bandaged my arm.
Is he mad? Does he think I was careless? Is he angry at the crew? Megan tried to explain it was a freak accident on the drive here, but he wasn’t paying any attention. His plagued gaze was set on me through the rearview mirror, as if the world didn’t exist.
Dex disappeared to get a coffee ten minutes ago, and Megan left after dropping us off, reassuring her boss she had the rest of the shift covered.
“Florence Sadler?” a voice calls.
I glance around the busy waiting room, searching for his green cap. Nothing. I ignore the dejection and make my way over to the nurse. Smiling, she escorts me into a bay and removes the bandage Megan secured.
“Hmm, it doesn’t need stitches.” Her gloved fingers prod gently at the tender skin. “I’ll give it a quick clean and apply some Steri-Strips. Keep it dry for a few days, and it should heal fine.”
The curtain draws back, revealing a stricken Dex. Spotting me, he relaxes a fraction, eyes tracking me head to toe, over and over, until he’s satisfied.
“Oh,” the nurse exclaims. “Are you family?”
I wait, almost testing him.
I’m her boyfriend. Her partner.
Nothing. He stands there, hands shoved into his jeans, when someone else appears behind him.
“Mom?”
She tilts her head, expression a mix of worry and relief. “Oh, sweetheart. I came as soon as Dex called.”
“It’s nothing,” I brush off. My attention isn’t on her. It’s on Dex, who stares at the linoleum floor, shoulders hunched.
He called her.
“Mom, you can stay. Sir, you’ll have to wait outside if you’re not a relative,” the nurse says and finishes tending to my arm.
Dex nods and steps out of the cubicle, chin tucked to his chest without a single word.
So many emotions rush me, it’s hard to pinpoint a single one. All I know is he can’t leave me here. He wouldn’t.
“Excuse me for a second.” I shimmy out of the nurse’s hold and hop down from the bed.
“Florence?” my mom shouts, but I’m already sprinting past the curtain and taking a hard left. Dex’s big form lumbers toward the medical center exit.
I pick up speed, chasing after him, and wrap my hand around his bicep, halting his escape.
He turns, face blank.
“Are you okay?” I ask breathlessly.
His brows screw tight. “It’s not me you should worry about.”
I tighten my hold. “Dex, I’m fine. I promise.”
“Nothing about this is fine, Florence.” Gently he raises my injured arm. Though the three-inch gash isn’t deep, the area around it is mottled and grazed. “This should never have happened.”
“It was an accident. There was no way you knew that was going to happen.”
He shakes his head. “It could’ve been avoided.”
It could’ve been avoided if I wasn’t there.
Poisonous thoughts that haven’t reared their ugly heads for weeks make themselves known.
You’re a distraction. That’s why he’s not told anyone about you. His dirty little secret.
You reap what you sow, and currently, I’m standing in a field, wildflowers wilting, grass yellow, soil bone dry, as I question everything.
The once-tiny bud that’s blossomed and bloomed under his care and affection shrivels.
Momentarily confused, he takes that as his opportunity to slip out of my grasp.
“Why did you call my mom?”
He moves us to the side, allowing a hospital porter to pass by.
“Dex. Why did you call my mom?” I repeat. “I’m old enough to not need a responsible adult anymore. Bringing me here wasn’t necessary. We can—”
“I think you should sleep at your mom’s tonight. Rest your arm and get a good night’s sleep.” His Adam's apple bobs with a deep swallow. “Take tomorrow off. Help Jo with the wedding.”
Rejection needles its way under my skin. “I want to work. I want to talk.” His stubble scratches my palm as I cup his cheek. “Talk to me. Please.”
His sad eyes dance around my face, as if he’s cataloging every freckle and line to memory. “You deserve the world, Florence Sadler.”
He presses his lips to my forehead then walks away. Without a backward glance, he disappears through the automatic doors leading outside.
He leaves.
Leaves me.
Minutes pass. I stare at the stretch of corridor. Doctors and nurses pass in a blur. The first tear falls.
I drag myself back to the examination room, avoiding my mom’s quizzical gaze while the nurse applies the Steri-Strips and a waterproof bandage.
My mother isn’t stupid, and on the drive to her house, she gives me the space to brood.
Covered in dried blood and dirt, I fish my phone out of my bag and hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen.
I don’t want to wallow in my childhood room, and while I love her, my mom’s company isn’t what I need right now.
Patrick’s at the restaurant working a late shift, so there’s no risk of him seeing me in this state. Without overthinking it, I send out an SOS.
“Can you drop me off at Jo and Pat’s place, please?” I ask from the passenger seat of her car.
I’m thankful she fights the maternal urge to fuss over me and changes route. We pull up outside their house and she stares at me with knitted brows. “Are you going back to the A-frame tonight?”
Jo appears in the doorway, waving, a similar shade of concern on her face.
I stare down at the silver ring Dex gifted me, pressing my finger into the edge of the band until it imprints into my skin. “I’m not sure.”
She lets me leave without any further questions. Johanna, the mother hen she is, wraps me in a hug when I reach the top of the steps.
In less than twenty minutes, the rest of the cavalry arrives. A livid Aly steps into the house first, mumbling something about “Stupid men and their stupid egos”. Quinn retrieves a pack of wet wipes from her purse and cleans me up. Harriet stands guard. From what, I’m not sure.
They don’t even know why I’m sad, but that doesn’t stop them.
These women—my sisters—dropped everything to be here for me.
Something taps me on the forehead, rousing me from my nap.
“You’re drooling on my favorite blanket,” a sweet voice whispers.
I crack an eye open to find Lottie standing over me, equal parts adorable and cross.
“Sorry,” I croak and sit up. My head is heavy, muscles sore.
When the girls asked me what I wanted, “Sleep” was all I managed. No one asked questions. I collapsed on the sofa, weighed down by the day, and fell asleep.
“How long have I been asleep?”
Lottie thinks then glances at the clock on the wall. “The big hand started on five, moved alllll the way around and ended on six.”
Translation: over an hour.
I tug my niece into me. She giggles as I bury us under the blanket. Her green eyes sparkle, a very similar shade to my own. “Aunty Flo, I don’t like it when you’re sad.”
Lying is pointless. She’s as sharp as a tack. “Sometimes, grownups get sad, but I’ll be okay. It’s good to cry and let it out; otherwise, it can bubble inside you.” I brush back her hair. “Don’t ever feel ashamed for being sad. Or angry. Or scared.”
She nods. “Did Uncle Dex make you sad?”
“What makes you think it was Uncle Dex?”
“When you were napping, everyone went into the kitchen. They didn’t see me…
” She was eavesdropping as usual. “JoJo said she was gonna give Uncle Dex a piece of her brain. Then, Aunty Aly and Aunty Harriet said ‘men are only good for one thing’ in angry voices. Even Aunty Quinn sounded mad, and she never gets mad. What are men good for? And what’s an or-gas-m? ”
I blink. Aly knows, but it shocks me to think she’d tell the others without my knowledge.
“They’re upset because I’m upset. That’s what friends do. Men are complicated, like that puzzle your dad got you the other week. Speaking of your father, ask him what an orgasm is when you see him next.”
“Okay,” she chirps then bounces to her feet. “Come on. Aunty Quinn made cookies.”
Like a walking burrito, I shuffle after Lottie. Four pitiful gazes greet me when we enter the kitchen. Brilliant.
“The sob fest is over. Fret not, ladies. Sorry for disrupting your day,” I joke.
No one laughs. Johanna ushers me to sit around the dining table, a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies and a pitcher of iced tea in the center. The others join us, all sharing a look that says, Who’s going first?
Jo grabs Lottie’s attention. “Hey, can you help me?”
My niece taps a finger to her chin. “Maybeee.”
“Could you go upstairs and start drawing some art for the baby’s room? I think the princess dinosaurs you’ve been practicing will look perfect above the crib.”
Lottie beams like the sun and darts away, squealing happily.
“Now that the little ears are gone, we can speak candidly.” Jo leans forward, fingers linked on the table.
I turn to Aly, who already knows what I’m going to ask.
“Hey, I didn’t tell a soul.” She shrugs.
Eyes darting around the table, it’s clear everyone knows.
“God, what a mess.” My head falls into my hands. “The important thing is, Patrick doesn’t know. Dex would hate himself if Pat found out before he spoke to him.” A flat laugh trickles out of me. “Not that he’s going to tell him now anyway. That ship has sailed.”
The room is silent.
I look at Jo. “He doesn’t know, right?”
“He’s had suspicions Dex is seeing someone. The who remains a mystery.” She grimaces.
“What? What aren’t you telling me?”
She sighs. “Pat confronted him about it at the bachelor party. He denied seeing anyone.”
The perfect opportunity to tell my brother, and he let it pass him by. A fresh round of tears pools in my eyes. He doesn’t want me, not in the way I want him.
“I also suspected something a few months ago,” Jo continues. “He said something happened, but that it was one time, so I dropped it. You’re actually a lot better at hiding your feelings than you think. It was only the other day my suspicions were confirmed.”
I stare at her, confused. “The other day?”
“My wedding shower…”
Ah. “Tequila isn’t my friend. What did I say?”
Harriet clears her throat. “Flo, you might’ve been drunk as a skunk, but it was Dex who gave it away. The man was absolutely smitten. It was nauseating.”
“Then why is he pushing me away?” I blubber.
“Oh, sweetie.” Quinn tugs me into a hug.
“We’re not here to excuse his behavior,” Jo starts. “It was a shit move. You’ve been patient and honored his wishes. That’s not what he needs.”
Snatching up a cookie, I take a bite, mumbling my response. “Yeah, and what does he need?”
“Tough love,” Aly adds right as Quinn says, “Someone to not give up on him.”
Jo reaches across the table, squeezing my hand.
“Dex is like a brother to me. I’ve known him for as long as Pat.
He’s always seemed happy being alone, and as we got older, I never questioned it.
Deep down, I think he wants those things, and for a time in his life, he’s allowed himself to be happy. Truly happy. To see a future.”
I frown. “How can you tell?”
“He let you in.”
My confusion increases. “I’m certain this is the opposite of letting me in.”
“It’s not my place, but I’ll say one thing.” She smiles at me sadly. “I don’t think he’s pushing you away because he doesn’t want you; he’s pushing you away to protect you.”