Chapter 17
Seventeen
The ride back to Ashworth Estate was excruciating. All I could think about was my first time meeting Dax after he’d fallen off his motorcycle. Now, the abuse from his brother mixed with his fatigue has me terrified he’ll fall unconscious again.
Before getting on the motorcycle, he changed into his leather jacket for extra protection against the elements.
While we ride, there’s noticeable pressure between his shoulder blades.
I think he senses my fear and is doing everything he can to remain alert.
His speed slows now and then, and I call out that it’s okay to pull over.
Stubbornness got us here. Dax didn’t stop the motorcycle, and soon I’m hitting the intercom buzzer outside Ashworth Estate.
After Murphy answers, I reply with, “It’s me, Vanessa.”
The gates open, and Dax starts the motorcycle again. His loud exhale cuts through his facade. His fatigue takes over, and this last stretch is the most agonizing of the entire journey.
He parks the motorcycle by the front stone steps of the manor. I’m quick to get off so I can get him inside. When Dax gets off the bike, I notice a shakiness in his legs.
“Oh my gosh. Are you okay?”
He pulls off his helmet and rubs the heel of his palm against his temple. “Yeah. Just a little dizzy.”
“You shouldn’t have ridden all the way. I should’ve called a driver.”
Dax hangs his helmet on the handlebars. “Don’t do that to yourself. I wasn’t leaving the bike behind no matter what you said.”
I clutch his hand, leading him up the steps. “Let’s just get you inside. You can finally get some rest.”
Dax rocks his jaw and dawdles behind me. “Are you sure this will be okay?”
“It’ll be fine,” I say to myself as much as to him. When he’s still doubtful, I gesture at the manor. “It’s not like we don’t have the room.”
Dax’s nerves diminish, taking in the grandeur of my home. “I guess that’s true.”
The front doors burst open, and I assume it’ll be Murphy. The wind is knocked out of me when my father races toward us.
“Get away from my daughter!” he yells at Dax.
Dax drops my hand, but I don’t unravel from his arm. I’ve never seen such fury in my father’s eyes.
A chill runs down my spine. “Dad, why are you yelling?”
“Why are you with this boy?”
I gulp, feeling like I’ve committed a crime. “We’re friends.” It comes out in a feeble tone. “Dad, he needs help. He’s not well.”
“Then I’ll have a driver take him to a hospital,” Dad says gruffly.
“No, he can stay with us,” I insist. “Just like Christie’s family does.”
“No, that’s ridiculous. He’s leaving now.”
“I knew you’d do this!” I cry. “You let Ash’s girlfriend stay here, but you won’t take in someone special to me.”
“This isn’t even close to being the same thing. I let an employee and his family stay here.”
“And you let Ash and Christie be together.” I choke on a sob. “Admit it. You love Ash more than me.”
Deep lines crease my father’s forehead. “Why would you say that?”
I step in front of Dax. “Because you’d never tell one of Ash’s friends to leave. Why are you being like this?”
“Because I know where he’s from.” Dad shoves Dax away from me. “You need to leave. Now!”
I gasp as Dax stumbles backward. “No, he needs to come in.”
“Murphy!” Dad calls. “Call the police!”
My jaw drops in disbelief. “The police? He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Dad points a finger at Dax. “I’ll give you ten seconds to get off my property, or I’ll make sure they lock you up.”
“Dad!” I yell as Dax gets back on his bike. “He needs our help. He’ll…”
“Murphy!” Dad cuts me off.
My vision blurs with the sting of tears, and I turn my back on my father. I dash to Dax’s motorcycle and pull on my helmet. “Let’s get out of here.”
He stares at me for half a second, making sure I’m certain. When my expression turns pleading, the motorcycle revs. My shoulders jolt as we take off.
I imagine my dad is calling after me, but all I can hear is my racing heart and the buzz of the engine.
I tap Dax’s shoulder and point to the left before the front gates.
The motorcycle swerves, cutting the corner and weaving behind the tall hedges.
We are down on a slope, and if anyone heard the bike, they’d easily assume we were out on the road.
I direct Dax toward the staff quarters, and when the motorcycle slows, I lean around his side and tell him where to park in the rear maintenance shed.
I jump off the bike and stay close as he does the same.
“The bike will be fine here,” I say breathlessly. “We have staff who are very loyal to me and won’t breathe a word.”
“Where are we going? Your dad…”
“It’s a big property,” I blurt. “I’ll keep you safe.”
I lead the way out of the maintenance shed. After sighting the coast is clear, I beckon him to follow.
Behind me, Dax mumbles something. When I turn and ask him to repeat it, his eyes glaze over.
“Dax!” I cry, lunging for him as his body slumps. With all my muscles working overtime, I barely prop him up. “Dax! Dax, wake up.”
He mumbles something again, slouching against my body.
I jostle him the best I can, repeating his name and willing him back to me. Crouching, I lower him to the ground. He’s too heavy to move off me, so I just hug him and plead for him to wake up.
With another mumble and a pain-stricken groan, his eyes gradually blink open.
“Dax,” I whisper in relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”
He groans again, cupping his head as he sits up.
I clutch his shoulder. “Take your time. Don’t rush.”
“What happened?”
“You fell.” My voice quivers, causing him to look at me with concern. “I tried to wake you up.”
He caresses the side of my face. “Don’t be sad. I’m okay.”
I swallow the urge to sob and shake my head. “No, you’re not.”
Doubling down on his stubbornness, he gets himself up. I slowly follow, keeping my eyes glued to his unstable legs. He holds a hand out to me, and I feel foolish taking it. He’s the one who just blacked out. He shouldn’t be tending to me.
“How’s your head?” I ask, leading him to the rear of the manor.
“It’s thumping, but I’ll live.”
My vision blurs, and I don’t say anything because it’ll only unleash a torrent of sobs.
I lead Dax towards the pool and walk him past the cabana lounges. I wipe my eyes dry as we enter the pool house.
“Oh boy, this place is huge,” Dax says.
Even though the day is drawing into evening, the pool house is light and airy. Another stark reminder of the difference between mine and Dax’s lives. But none of that matters. I lead Dax by the hand into the bedroom, because nothing and no one will stop me from looking after this boy.
I help Dax onto the bed, and he shifts against the mountain of pillows covering the headboard.
“Dax.” My voice shakes as I sit beside him. “You need a doctor.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s not the first time I’ve blacked out. I’ll just get some sleep and then get going.”
I rub my sweating palms against my thighs. “Dax, I saw your file at the hospital.”
“You did what?”
“I needed to know what was wrong with you.”
“Since when is it your business?”
I slap a hand against my chest. “Since I care about you. You weren’t going back to the hospital, and I overheard Dr. Harris talking about you.”
Slouched against the pillows, his jaw flexes. “What’d he say?”
“Something about your white blood cells. Your file said they’re too high.”
“So there is something wrong with me?”
“You need to follow up with the doctor about these tests.”
He swallows hard, shifting away from me. “No. No way.”
“Please.” It comes out more wounded than I intended. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t watch you in pain and wonder when you’ll fall unconscious again.”
He watches me intently, and his bottom lip twitches with undecided words.
I take his hands and rub my thumb over the rose etched into his skin. “You mean so much to me, Dax. I just want you to be okay.”
He wipes sweat from his brow, growing pale as he whispers, “I’m scared. I don’t know what they’ll find, or what it’ll mean.”
“It’ll most likely mean you get put on medication,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “From what I read online, your condition can be managed with a better diet, regular exercise, and quitting smoking.”
Dax chews his lip, and his eyes have trouble settling on one spot. “But what if it doesn’t work? I don’t want to find out if something way worse is wrong with me.”
I hold his hands tighter and pull him toward me. I rest my forehead against his, feeling the clamminess, and exhale slowly. He tries timing his breath with mine, but his anxiety spikes, sending his nerves haywire.
“I got you,” I whisper, briskly rubbing my hands along his arms. His skin is cold and prickly. I search his chest, finding his heartbeat, which races like a thoroughbred. “Oh, babe, this is the biggest problem. Your poor heart. This anxiety is plummeting your health.”
Panic rushes over his face. “I don’t know what that means.”
I sit up taller, and take another long breath in and out with him. He follows along shakily.
“I don’t want you to worry,” I whisper, holding the sides of his face steady. “It’s not your fault you were dealt a crummy hand in life. You’ve dealt with it in the best way you could. But it can get better from here.”
He shakes his head, choking on an inhale of air, and then coughing it out.
“Hey, hey,” I coo. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t want to drag you down,” he says in a hoarse voice, tapping a fist on his chest. “I don’t want to give you my problems.”
“But I don’t want to leave you alone with your problems.”
His eyes still and some color comes back to his face. His shoulders relax, and he leans forward, kissing me like I’m his life preserver. “Dang. How’d I get so lucky to have you?”
“So, is it a yes?” I gently kiss the nape of his neck, tracing my finger along his collarbone. “Will you see a doctor?”
He catches my hand with his. “Only if you come with me.”
I give the sensitive spot another butterfly kiss. “Of course, baby.”