Chapter 29
She’s sound asleep, the sheet having slipped down to her waist. Her features are soft in the dark-blue light of the early hour. Her brown hair spills over her pillow, and her breathing is slow and even.
Maybe one more night. Maybe one more time. Last night, she made it clear that the timer buzzes any minute.
I heave a sigh as I pull on work-out shorts and a T-shirt. Turning away from her, I head to the bathroom and brush my teeth.
I grab my bike shoes and pad quietly across the floor, favoring my right foot. I lied last night. My ankle did hurt. It still does, but I’m going to ride with Max this morning anyway. I close the door with a soft whoosh so I won’t wake her up.
In the hallway, I put on my shoes. I snag my bike from the basement and dart downtown, the early-morning cabs and buses keeping me company on the road, along with my thoughts.
I wish there were other options.
But this—having her in every way—is the kind of procedure that reeks of malpractice. It’s fraught with too many known risks that can lead to a negative outcome, including injury or death.
I try to weigh the choices like I’d evaluate such a complicated treatment.
On the one hand, I could tell her how I feel.
But that’s a surgical procedure with a great likelihood of morbidity.
What if telling her freaked her out? Worried her?
Made her kick me out of the apartment and say, Sorry bud, you’re not the full package I want?
We might as well kill the friendship on the operating table.
On the other hand, we could apply the brakes, preserve the friendship, and save the patient—our friendship.
That’s the safest choice.
The only other option is so ridiculous, I can’t even take it seriously. It’s the one where I tell her how I feel, and miraculously, she wants the same thing. We’d skip merrily down the street into la-la-happy-fucking-forever-and-ever land.
I scoff at that scenario as I slow at a light.
We have a name for that in the ER. It’s the hallelujah scenario. It’s the outcome so wonderfully unexpected in the face of outrageously bad odds that patients and families deem it a miracle.
You can’t count on miracles. You can’t practice for them. And you certainly can’t bet something as critical as a life on them.
When I reach Max’s building and wheel up to the lobby door, a heaviness descends upon my bones.
There’s only one procedure to perform. Josie and I will have to return to the way we were, like we’d planned.
We’ll remain the best of friends, and these last few weeks will simply be a fun little blip.
We’ll look back on this time and laugh about the days when we were roomies-with-bennies.
Max strolls out of the lobby, pushing his bike. He lifts his chin. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Ready?”
“I’m ready.”
We ride along our usual route as the sun rises. But I’m off my game. That heaviness has spread through my body. It weighs me down. It slows me. I’m as sluggish as I’ve ever been.
From several bike-lengths ahead, Max glances back and shouts, “C’mon, man. Catch up.”
It’s not an admonishment—it’s an encouragement. My brother knows me. He knows speed is my asset. This morning, though? My legs are lead.
I can’t do it.
Max slows and stops. “What’s going on?”
I roll up beside him on the path. “Nothing.”
He shakes his head then points to a nearby bench. We wheel over to it, unsnap our helmets, and park our asses, resting our bikes on the grass.
“Something’s going on.”
I drop my head into my hands. I can’t fucking hold this in a second longer. “I’m in love with Josie, but I can’t be.”
For the briefest moment, my body feels light. I said it out loud. I voiced it to another person.
When I raise my face, I half expect my brother to laugh at me. But I know better. That’s not Max’s style.
“Love sucks.” He exhales heavily and meets my eyes. “Does she feel the same?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. She said we need to stop.”
Max holds up his hands in a T. “Whoa. Stop what?”
And so I tell him the CliffsNotes version.
“Chase,” he says with a sigh that contains all the older brother wisdom in the world.
“I know.”
He shakes his head. “She’s gonna break your heart, man.”
I snap my gaze to him. “What?” I heard him, I just refuse to believe Josie would do that.
“Look at you. You’re a mess. She’s going to hurt you. Like that—”
I cut him off before he can say “Adele.” I don’t feel the need to defend my ex, but I can’t bear to have her name breathed near Josie’s. “It’s not the same.”
“I know, but fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair, heaving a sigh. “I hate seeing you so worked up over a woman.”
“She’s not just any woman.”
“I get that.” He stares me down. His dark eyes have always felt like laser beams. “She’s your roommate, and your best friend, and your lover, and you want her to be your girlfriend.
” He takes a beat and shakes his head as if he’s frustrated with the situation.
“But she’s told you that can’t happen, and you’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt. ”
He’s right. Hell, I know he’s right. And the dread that floods every corner of my body is the proof of how right he is. But still, some faint hope nags at me. “You sure?”
“Look, there’s probably some school of thought that would tell you to man up and let her know how you feel.
And hey, maybe you should. Lord knows, I don’t have the track record to be any sort of relationship expert.
” He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “But, Chase . . . this? This is a precarious house of cards.” He makes a flicking motion with his finger, knocking over the imaginary structure.
“I just don’t see how you can pull off this trick without everything tumbling down.
” He grips my shoulder. “Anyway, the point is . . . she’s Josie,” he says, with an intensity that matches how I feel for her.
“You’ve had a thing for her for about forever. Everyone knew it but you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Everyone?”
“Dude, it’s patently obvious. You flirt with her constantly. Your face lights up when she comes in the room. You smile like an idiot when you talk about her.”
I sneer. “Shut up. I do not.”
“You do, too.”
I scowl, proving just how much I’m not a love-struck fool.
“That’s why I don’t see how even you can pull this off,” he says.
“If anyone can manage balancing acts and feats of strength, it’s my little brother.
But this isn’t just pushing your body to finish a race, or to handle a thirty-six-hour shift without a yawn.
This isn’t even skipping two grades in school, smarty-pants. This is a fuck-ton harder.”
I draw a deep breath, letting it fill me, letting it fuel me. “So I just shut it down?”
He sighs heavily. “I can’t tell you to do that. All I can say is be prepared for a hurricane-size storm if you open it up.”
I sink back on the bench, certain that Max’s advice is spot on. Because it aligns with the woman’s wishes—Josie made it perfectly clear from the start that we are temporary, and she laid down the law again last night. “What do I do next? How do I just return to being roommates and friends?”
He drapes an arm around me. “You don’t.”
I shoot him a look. “What?”
“You don’t go back. Come stay with me. You can move in with her again if you want, but stay with me for a few days, a few weeks, a few months—as long as you want. Whatever you need while you get this shit sorted out.”
At first, I want to blow him off. To say “nah, I hardly need that.” But something about his idea gives me a sense of calm I haven’t felt in a while. The longer I stay with Josie, the harder it’ll be when it ends. And it will end. The clock is winding down.
“Maybe I should,” I say.
He nods. “I don’t pretend to have any answers, but I love you, man. I don’t want to see you hurt, and right now, I can tell you are.”
I am, and I can’t stand feeling this way. I go for my best attempt at humor production. “So, you love me?”
He drops his knuckles to my head and grinds them against my skull. “I do.”
“Like a brother?”
He laughs. “Just like a brother.”
Right now, maybe that’s what I need most.