Chapter Five
Eric
“W ould it be cheaper if I just gave you my foot instead?” I tease the medical assistant who is going over how much money I need to pay for services today. It’s so fucked up that they do it this way—don’t even let you out of the building without a huge payment, regardless of what’s wrong with you.
As I hand over my debit card, I feel Donovan’s gaze on me. He’s hardly turned away since I told him about my mess-up. Please don’t offer me the money, please don’t offer me the money, please don’t offer me the money.
She runs my card, and I try not to wince as she hands it back. But hey, at least Donovan didn’t have to jump in to cover his failure of a best friend. He’s been through enough in his life. The last thing I want him to have to worry about is me and my mistakes.
They have me all set up in a walking boot, and holy shit, those things are expensive too.
It couldn’t have cost nearly that much to make.
I’ll need to wear it for six to eight weeks, depending on how my ankle heals.
I have to use crutches with it for the first couple of weeks, but then I can put a little weight on it.
Outside of showering, I’m supposed to wear the stupid thing twenty-four seven, and I’m zero percent excited about it.
Not only that, but I still haven’t figured out how I’m going to work. Do they expect me to take six to eight weeks off? Would I be able to get short-term disability for something like that?
All those thoughts swim around in my head while they’re trying to talk to me. A bead of sweat rolls down my temple. Is it me, or is it hot in here?
I must miss something because Donovan says, “It’s fine. I’ll make sure he knows everything he’s supposed to do. I’ll be taking care of him.”
My head snaps up at that. “Huh?”
Donovan’s forehead wrinkles up like he can’t understand why I would question that because of course he’ll help as much as he can. That’s what we do. But really, it’s just a broken ankle. What will he need to do for me?
I take the forms the medical assistant hands over, then slide off the examination table. They already fit me for the crutches, which are leaning beside me. Donovan immediately steps over to me, grabbing them and handing them over while also taking the paperwork and prescription from me.
The crutches stab into my armpits uncomfortably, but I ignore it. “What do you want to do today?” I play it off like nothing is wrong as we make our way out of the building.
“You’re relaxing and elevating your foot is what you’re doing.”
“Oh my God. I’m fine.” But then I stumble on my crutches. These things aren’t as easy as they look.
“They take some getting used to. Stay here. I’ll get the car.
” He doesn’t wait for me to respond before walking away.
Oh yeah. He’s upset and worried. Donovan can sometimes pull away and shut down when he gets like that.
In this situation, there’s no doubt in my mind that it comes from his concern for me.
I hate having him worry about me that way.
Donovan disappears into the lot, and I take out my phone and pull up my bank account info. Besides today’s unexpected expense, I’ll need follow-up appointments too. Dread pools in my gut as I try to figure out how I’ll manage that.
When Donovan pulls up, I shove my phone back into my pocket, plaster on a fake smile, and try to concentrate on the pain in my ankle rather than my life.
He gets out, but I wave him off and hobble over. Donovan opens the passenger door, and I slide in, thankful to be on my ass again.
“I’ll stop on the way and get you some lunch.”
Okay…keeping it real, that helps. “Del Taco?” I ask, and I can see him biting back a smile.
“Of course Del Taco. You’re so spoiled.”
“I’m hurt. You’re not allowed to call me names right now.”
“Five minutes ago you were acting like it’s annoying that I want to help you.”
True. “I’m human, D. I’m going to milk this situation when it gets me what I want but complain the rest of the time.”
He shakes his head but doesn’t reply. I can tell there’s something on his mind—and by something, I mean me—but I’m not in a place where I want to talk about it, so I pretend not to notice.
There’s no missing that Donovan is tense, though. Seeing that, it weighs me down more, my brain going back and forth between the situation I’m in and worry for him.
Del Taco isn’t far from my apartment. He goes through the drive-thru and gets me fries, a chicken burrito, and a taco—my standard order—before getting his own.
Before I know it, he’s snagging a parking spot right in front of my building, which is one stroke of good luck today.
“I’ll come around.” Again, he doesn’t wait for a response before getting out and walking around to my door. He opens it, then gets the crutches from the back. Donovan takes the food and medication off my lap, then holds his hand out for me. With a sigh, I take it, and he pulls me to my feet.
I hobble to the stairs and look up. “This sucks.” The thought of taking these things every day for the next six to eight weeks isn’t fun.
Despite whatever’s going on in Donovan’s head, he looks at me with that big, bleeding heart of his in his eyes and says, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“It’s okay. I’m just being a big baby. I’ll survive.”
He leans over and kisses my temple. “Let me take this stuff upstairs, and then I’ll come back to help you.”
I nod. Not only am I not looking forward to the stairs, but Donovan is the sweetest person I’ve ever known.
He jogs up, heads inside, and a moment later he’s coming back.
“If you can just take the crutches,” I tell him, “I’ll use the wall and railing to help me up.”
“Okay, but I want to be behind you in case you lose your balance.”
I grin. “Are you going to catch me if I fall?”
“Either that or go down with you. Always, remember?”
God, I really, really love him. I know he’s being partly playful right now, but he’s serious too. “Always.”
My ankle throbs as I jump up the stairs on my good leg. I can’t imagine how much stronger it’s going to be than my injured one when this is finished.
Donovan helps me to the couch and makes me put my leg up again, propping it on pillows before getting a towel and laying it across my lap. Then he gets my food out of the bag.
“I’ll go get your gross Diet Mountain Dew.”
“It’s not gross, D. I swear, I don’t even know how we’re friends when you have such horrible taste.”
He doesn’t play along, gets me a drink, then sits in the armchair.
One look at him, and I know he’s bursting at the seams with a million questions and thoughts.
His head can be a hectic place sometimes.
Donovan cares so much about everyone and everything that it makes him worry and stress too much.
I always try hard not to be an additional source for that, but I’m the primary one right now.
And the thing is, I get it. I know how irresponsible it was for me not to have insurance.
But the system doesn’t make it easy either.
Instead of telling him that, I take a bite of my burrito. “God, this is good.”
Donovan nods and lets me eat, which I now realize is part of his evil plan, which really isn’t so evil at all.
“You have to eat too.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I say, “If you don’t eat, we don’t talk.” I’m not going to let Donovan not take care of himself because he’s stressed about me.
“Fine.”
I grin.
Donovan scowls.
We eat in silence, and the second I’m balling up the last wrapper, he jumps right in. “You know how important insurance is. You saw what my family and I went through with a long-term illness, and that was with coverage. Think about how bad things would have been without.”
“It’s just a broken ankle.” I shrug, though it feels like a whole lot more than that. Denial, denial, denial.
Donovan pushes to his feet and starts pacing.
“This time. But what happens if next time it’s not?
What if you get sick? Or get hurt worse?
Or a million other things that can happen.
I’ve seen people die because they couldn’t afford medical treatment and…
” His words break off. Donovan stops moving with his back to me, his hand covering his face.
My heart breaks, guilt engulfing me like an avalanche, but…
it’s not that easy either. “I told you, Cliff couldn’t afford to offer it, and it’s expensive paying for coverage on your own.
” But the truth is, I didn’t have to work for Cliff.
I made the choice to lose insurance by going to work with him.
Donovan turns around, head cocked slightly, eyes pinched in concern. I look away.
“How serious are your money problems?”
This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. “Well, clearly, I’m not suffering too much.” I have a roof over my head, food in my kitchen, pay for my gym membership and things like that. “But…Cliff has been having trouble pulling in enough work.”
I say a quiet thank-you when I don’t get an I told you so . Much like I always hated Malcolm, Donovan has always hated Cliff, the difference being Cliff is just my friend—acquaintance, really—and Donovan had been in love with Malcolm. Bile still climbs up my throat at the thought of that.
“What is he doing about it?” Donovan asks.
The truth is, not much. “He’s…not being as proactive as he should be.
I’ve come up with a hundred ideas, but he never follows through.
If I could just get him to work on some of my ideas with me, maybe it would help, but he gets defensive every time I talk to him about it.
” It seems now that I’ve started speaking, I don’t know how to stop.
This is what happens when I keep things from Donovan too long; they come spilling out of me like water breaking down a dam.
“And I have to sign a new lease on my apartment next month, and of course my rent is going up. I was thinking about trying to get my old job back, but I called them, and they aren’t hiring.
I’m so fucked, and that was before the ankle. ”
Donovan sighs. “Jesus, babe. Why didn’t you tell me?” He walks over and sits on the edge of the couch beside me.
Because I never should have quit my stable job to work with Cliff?
Because Donovan told me from the start it was a bad idea?
Because it makes me feel like an idiot? All those things are true, but I know him well enough to know he would never have said anything to make me feel that way.
“I don’t know. I was embarrassed, I guess. ”
His brows push together. “With me? You never have to be embarrassed with me.”
“I know.” And I do, but being human is complicated and hard. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to take care of me.”
“What? I don’t feel that way. I would never feel like that.
You saved my life when I was growing up.
I would have been miserable without you.
Do you know how many times I would have been stuck home in pain and alone if it wasn’t for you?
But I never had to be alone because I had you.
I’ll never be able to repay you for everything you’ve given me. ”
This time, it’s me who rolls his eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. All I did was be your friend.”
“Which is everything .”
Oh. Well, that feels good to hear. “I am pretty cool.” I give him a small grin.
“You’re the best.”
“I’m not arguing.”
“You dork.” He nudges my arm with his.
“Ouch!” I grab ahold of my side, and his eyes widen.
“I’m sorry. How did I… You asshole.” He gives me the finger when he realizes I’m kidding, then gets serious.
“We’re here for each other. This is what we do.
You were there for me when I was growing up, and you supported me after Malcolm.
Let me be there for you this time. I feel bad that I said all of those things about not having insurance.
I know it’s not your fault. The system is flawed and leaves so many people behind. ”
But the thing is, in this situation, it is my fault. Again, it was my choice.
“Let me be there for you,” Donovan says again.
“I can’t take your money.” I don’t have it in me to do that.
“I know.” He gives me a small smile. “But what you can do is move in with me. Then you don’t have to worry about all the bills that go along with your apartment.
It’ll be fun to live together again.” I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.
“You can help me with stuff too. I eat terribly when you’re not around. Plus…I don’t really like living alone.”
The truth is, I’m not real big on living alone either.
I spend half my time at Donovan’s anyway.
He’s right. We did have a blast when we used to live together.
Also, that would ease some of my concerns, and I could make sure he ate better.
“Yes,” I reply, thankful. I thought for sure Donovan was going to stress out more than this and try to come up with a million different ways to fix this for me.
“Good. I also want you to marry me.”