Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Jif woke a little after lunchtime, and her stomach had no qualms about reminding her she’d skipped three meals in a row now.
When Miles hadn’t shown up to the gala, she’d been too nervous and upset to eat dinner. At dawn, she’d heard Wes moving around Miles’s apartment and confronted him about what had happened, but he’d remained silent.
“It’s not for me to say,” he’d adamantly insisted.
While she could respect his dedication to his best friend’s agency, in the moment, she’d lashed out. “I’m trying to help.”
“Then help on his terms, not yours.”
She’d planned to stay until Miles woke, but one glance in the bathroom mirror had changed her mind. Dark circles ringed her eyes, half exhaustion and half leftover mascara, and her eye shadow smeared her arm in whorls where she’d rested her head on it.
“I’ll be back,” she’d promised, but after a warm shower, she’d fallen into bed, hair still wet, and slept the morning away.
Now, pulling a brush through the tangled mess, her stomach grumbled. She grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water on her way to the car, then drove to Miles’s, armed with intent.
Wes might not be willing to tell her what had happened, but Miles would.
She didn’t knock on her way in, expecting Miles to still be in bed, but her steps stuttered to a stop when she found him lying on the couch, Nix sprawled like a sixty-pound blanket on top of him.
The dog’s head came up and swiveled toward her, and his tail thumped Miles’s feet.
“Easy boy,” he whispered, scratching behind Nix’s ears but not opening his eyes. “Shift over a bit.”
The dog yawned, then lay his head on Miles’s chest again.
“Hey,” Jif greeted him.
His eyes flew open, wide with surprise.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I thought you were Wes.”
Jif crossed to his side and sat on the coffee table. “Where is he?”
“Ran out to grab more food. He’ll be back in a bit.”
“Do you need anything?” She half-rose, ready to fetch whatever he needed.
“No.”
He closed his eyes again, his chest jumping erratically with his unsteady breaths.
Jif sat quietly beside him. In the early days when they’d first met, he’d done the same while she petted Nix, waiting for her to share her thoughts. It wasn’t natural for her to accept the silence, but she could do it for him. He’d done it for her.
Eventually, his breathing evened. She didn’t think he’d gone to sleep, but at least he’d relaxed.
Nix’s foot twitched, and his lip curled.
Someone had fallen asleep, just not Miles.
“I failed my CPAT.”
His words dropped into the space between them, four stones with ripples that would widen until everything changed.
What had he said last night when she’d reassured him he would try again? I can’t. Why not?
Instead of asking, she folded her hands and waited.
“I pushed too hard. Tore my quad. Bad.”
How bad? She bit her tongue.
“Doctor thinks it’s gonna need surgery. I’ll have an ultrasound on Tuesday to confirm.”
“I’ll take you.”
He shook his head. “Wes took some time off. He’s gonna help take care of me.” He swallowed hard, and a streak slid from the corner of his eye into his hairline.
“I can help take care of you,” Jif offered. “I don’t have to be back in the classroom for another month, at least.”
“No.” His voice wavered, and another tear broke free. He cleared his throat. “I don’t want you to give up your summer for me.”
“I want to,” she insisted. “I’m your girlfriend, I should.”
“Don’t be stupid, Jif. I can’t walk, and I weigh too much for you.”
He kept talking, but Jif couldn’t hear his words over the pounding in her brain.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The word echoed, an accusation, a judgment. She flinched, and the nails of one hand dug into the palm of the other.
When he hadn’t shown last night, she’d initially been angry, then her concern had reasserted itself. He wouldn’t bail on her without telling her. He would never abandon her.
But her mother had thought the same of her father, and as the night progressed, the niggling sense of unease had grown into full-blown terror.
Even now, realizing he hadn’t come because he’d been injured—seriously injured—the small voice sounding so much like her mom insisted she jump ship before he could.
Ironic, considering the real Grace Pritchard still wouldn’t admit her husband wasn’t coming back.
And now he’d called her stupid.
Shallow, sure. Na?ve or insipid had both been insults she’d heard before, but not stupid.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed hard, trying again. “I want to help.”
“You can’t help,” he growled.
He’d said the same thing last night. Or, something similar, maybe? Sleeplessness made her head muzzy, and her breath came faster, her lungs tightening with each inhale.
“Don’t you get it? I’m starting all over. No, worse!” His fists clenched at his sides, then he pressed them, still balled, to his forehead. “I’m finished. My career. My life. Everything. I’ll never be a firefighter again.”
She gritted her teeth, the implication clear again: she was stupid. Dumb. Didn’t understand. Through her own pain, she caught at one of his hands, hoping he’d relax again, as he had last night, but this time he wouldn’t let her.
“Who am I if I’m not a firefighter?”
Her heart broke with his words, and she finally let her tears fall. “You’d be Miles. And that would be enough.”
A bitter bark of laughter left his lips.
“Right. Jif Pritchard, darling of the entire Raptors football team, resigned to her cripple of a boyfriend. You’ve got to be kidding me.
You have your choice of perfect human specimens, and you think I’m dumb enough to believe you’d choose the guy who will never walk again? ”
“You won’t walk?” Jif’s throat closed. How would he take care of Nix if he couldn’t walk? How would he get around? How would he live?
“You’re already second-guessing yourself,” he hissed. “I don’t need this, now, Jif. I have more important things to worry about than whether my girlfriend will dump me for the next hot body crossing her path.”
Jif winced but schooled her tone before replying. Fair or not, shrieking like a harpy wouldn’t change his mind, especially not if his harsh words came from his pain. “I haven’t done anything to deserve this, Miles.”
“Not yet,” he grumbled.
Nix lifted his head and whined, turning toward the door as heavy footsteps thumped up the stairs.
“I’m back...” Wes trailed off, eyes darting between Jif and Miles. “I’ll put these in the kitchen.”
“It’s fine,” Miles barked. “Jif’s leaving.”
“I’m not...” she argued.
“You are,” he interrupted. “Please. I can’t do this right now.”
“This? Fighting with me?” She swallowed, waiting for his reassurance, certain he’d give it.
His palpable pain—physical and emotional—had temporarily overwhelmed his true nature.
He couldn’t possibly mean the words coming from his mouth.
He would be better in a few days, or a few weeks, or after surgery. ..
“Any of this. With you.”
The tightening in her chest exploded outward with a gasp of air. Had her heart just cracked in two?
“I...”
Wes returned from the kitchen. “You should go, Jif.”
Her hands shook as her gaze flickered between Miles and his best friend.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t leave him.”
“You can. He’s asked you to. Come on.”
Wes took her arm, lifting her easily from the coffee table and steering her toward the door. Escorting her down to the driveway, he didn’t let go until he’d deposited her beside her car.
“He’s hurting. I won’t say don’t pay attention to him, but maybe give him time.”
Jif nodded numbly. He could have all the time in the world while she pieced her heart back together.