Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
Birdie
3 weeks later
“I still can’t believe you moved in with him,” Winnie exclaims from the other end of the phone. “The second you told me you ran into Callum Pierce in the grocery store, I knew you two wouldn't be able to stay away from each other. I didn’t want to say it out loud and piss you off, but in my head, I knew it.”
I recently filled Winnie in on my relationship with Callum, and each time we talk, she can’t stop gushing about how we’re seeing each other again. I was nervous about how she would react to the news, so it was relieving to hear her excitement about us.
“You’re never going to let me live this down,” I say, letting out an exasperated sigh.
“Hell no, I’m not,” she says dramatically. “You and Callum back together was not on my bingo card for this year. You two are the ultimate plot twist.”
She could say that again …
I called Winnie to try and get my mind off of the unease swirling in my gut.
Callum is currently in Dr. Sharpe’s office, going over his recent test results. I’m sitting outside in the car, anxiously biting my nails and talking to Winnie to try and calm my nerves.
Over the past few weeks, Callum has been in and out of appointments for several tests, including an MRI, spinal tap, specific blood tests, electromyography, and even genetic testing.
While I’m thankful that Dr. Sharpe is diligent and running a number of tests, it also puts into perspective how serious this could be.
I can tell that all this medical stuff is taking a toll on Callum’s mental health. He hasn’t had much of an appetite and has been sleeping more than usual.
I wish there was more I could do for him. I just feel helpless…like all I can do is pray and hope for the best.
The tightness in my chest only grows more tense as I wait for Callum to walk out of the clinic. He’s been in there for close to an hour now.
I can’t help but feel like if everything was okay, he would be out by now.
Maybe it’s just taking a while to get through all the test results.
Dr. Sharpe might just be behind today and is just now seeing Callum.
I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing.
God, I wish I was with him right now.
When I asked Callum if he wanted me to go inside with him, he said he preferred to hear the news alone but wanted me here when he got out. As a nurse, I completely understand his decision.
Some patients feel comforted by having loved ones in the room with them, and for others, it only heightens their anxiety. The burden of how a diagnosis will impact friends or family can be debilitating for patients, which only adds to their stress levels. They would rather share their diagnosis with loved ones in a personal and intimate way rather than in the confines of a cold, fluorescent room.
After half an hour of fidgeting with anything my hands could touch, I decided to call Winnie. I had to do something, or I was going to drive myself insane with thoughts of the worst.
“Do Mom and Dad know you’re living with Callum?” Winnie asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “They are going to shit their pants when they find out.”
“No,” I clip. “And I will disown you if you tell them before I have a chance to,” I add, half-jokingly. “Plus, we’re not technically living together. He’s just…giving me a place to stay until I finish my contract.”
“Bullshit”, she scoffs. “You’re sleeping in his bed, Birdie. Using his shower. Grocery shopping together. You are one thousand percent living together.”
I roll my eyes, even though I know she can’t see the gesture.
“Again,” I exhale. “It’s only for one month, Win.”
Hopefully, much longer, I think to myself. An eternity with Callum wouldn't be long enough.
“We’ll see about that,” Winnie retorts. “You two will be married by the end of next year. I’m calling it right now.”
Winnie’s voice is drowned out by a rolling boom sounding from the cloudy sky. Even though it’s the middle of the day, it looks almost pitch black outside. A streak of lightning slashes through the air as heavy sheets of rain begin to pound against the car windows.
“What the hell is that noise? Is everything okay?” Winnie asks.
Oh my God .
My phone nearly slips from my fingers when I see Callum walk out of the clinic. Rain splatters against his sculpted face as he trudges through puddles on the pavement, keeping his head down.
Shit.
He looks…distraught.
No…No, no, no.
Stop thinking like that.
He’s just keeping his head down to avoid the rain.
Everything is fine. Everything is okay.
“Helloooo?” Winnie drags out.
“It’s just a thunderstorm,” I respond, never taking my eyes off Callum. I haven’t told her about Callum’s appointment, so she thinks I’m on my lunch break right now.
“I uh… I better get back inside and clock in before the weather gets too bad,” I shout over the rain thudding against the car. “I’ll call you back tonight. Love you,” I rush out before abruptly ending the call.
When I drop my phone to my lap, it immediately starts to vibrate against my leg. I’m sure it’s Winnie calling me back to bitch about me hanging up on her.
But I’m completely zoned out.
I can’t focus on anything other than the achingly beautiful man walking toward me, looking completely shattered.
Nothing about his posture or expression gives me solace.
He looks defeated. Hopeless.
Water droplets collect in his midnight-black hair before trickling down his curls and splashing against his smooth skin. His gray T-shirt is soaked, sticking to his skin like a glove and outlining the ridges of his chest and abs. The muscles in his arms extend as he rotates between flexing his fingers at his sides and balling them into fists.
He’s getting completely drenched but doesn't seem to notice or care. Instead of running to get inside the dry car, he walks intentionally slowly, as if he’s trying to avoid reality for as long as possible.
Whatever news he just got inside Dr. Sharpe’s office is eating at him from the inside out. It’s written all over his face. I already know it’s bad.
My heart sinks to my stomach as bile rises up my esophagus. I dig my fingers into the leather seat and breathe through my nose, trying to tame my nausea.
Get your shit together, Birdie.
You need to be okay for him.
You have to be strong for patients every day. You can be strong for him. You have to be strong for him.
I’m somehow able to put on a subtle smile as Callum reaches for the driver's door and opens it. I sit up straighter as he drops his large body into the car and shuts the door with thud. The earthy aroma of rain fills the small cab, smelling of moss and damp wood.
I used to love the smell of rain.
I fear it will now be the scent I hate the most.
Aside from the rhythmic sound of our breathing and the pattering of rain, the space between us is quiet and still. Callum hasn’t looked at me since he got in the car. He keeps his gaze fixed forward, staring out of the blurred window.
My chest constricts when he lets out a choppy breath and rests his forehead against the steering wheel. My hand trembles as I reach across the car and run my fingers through his wet hair.
I’m not sure why, but I don’t speak. I just feel like Callum needs my silence right now. No questions or prodding. He just needs me here while he processes whatever news he just received.
I lose track of time, caught off guard when he finally speaks .
He mutters two words that shift my world on its axis. The breath escaping my lungs comes out shallow and quick.
“It’s MS,” he says weakly with his head still against the steering wheel.
My heart shatters into a million pieces when I hear the crack in his voice.
“Cal…” I breathe. My brows furrow with heartache as I massage my fingers down the back of his neck and into his hair.
“I have Multiple Sclerosis,” he says out loud for the first time.
Jesus Christ.
I tighten my fingers in his silky hair and lean across the console, placing a lingering kiss to his temple.
It’s been a while since I’ve read about MS in my textbooks, but off the top of my head, I know that it’s a chronic condition that affects the central nervous system. Basically, your immune system starts to attack your nerves, causing symptoms such as muscle spasms, weakness, numbness, fatigue, and so on.
Even though the condition is very serious, I know that with the right care, it’s possible for people with MS to live a normal lifespan. It’s not always a death sentence like other neurological diseases.
As a person with a career in the medical field, my first thought is for Callum to get a second opinion. I’m sure Dr. Sharpe is fantastic, but with any serious diagnosis, it doesn't hurt to have it confirmed by another doctor.
And if he does get that confirmation, we will find Callum the right care. The absolute top-notch medical team. I don’t care how much it costs or how far we have to travel. He will have nothing less than the best.
There are so many things I want to tell him right now. I want to tell him that everything is going to be okay. I want to tell him that even though this news is devastating, the diagnosis could be worse. That people with MS can live long and healthy lives. I want to ask if he’s open to getting a second opinion. I want him to know that there are treatment options that can relieve his symptoms and prolong his life.
But really, what do you say to a twenty-nine-year-old who was just diagnosed with a life-changing disease?
And I know that everything I want to say is all things that Dr. Sharpe discussed with him.
But I’m sure the doctor also told him that some patients with MS struggle more than others. Some don’t get the luxury of living a long and healthy life. Some patient’s condition progresses a lot faster than others, and that’s what fucking scary. The unknown. The thought of being out of control of your own body and its destruction.
“Callum…baby,” I stammer, trying to find the right words. “I…”
After what feels like an eternity, he picks his head up from the wheel and turns to look at me. A somber storm swirls in his blue eyes. When he blinks, a single tear escapes and rolls down his cheek. His brows pull together with worry as his bottom lip trembles.
He looks almost…childlike. Like how a kid would look to their parents when frightened.
I can’t hold back the tears brimming my own eyes. It fucking rips me apart to see him this way.
“Callum…” I lift my free hand and cup his jaw between my palms. He lets another tear fall as our eyes lock in an intimate stare.
“Come here,” he rasps, reaching below the driver's seat and sliding it back so there’s plenty of space between him and the wheel.
“Come here, Birdie,” he repeats when I hesitate. “I don’t want to talk right now. I just need you. ”
His entire body trembles like he’s freezing.
“I… I need you,” he manages to say through labored breathing, like it’s taking all of his strength to speak through the panic. “Please.”
This time, I don’t hesitate. If this is what Callum needs, then he has me. I would rip my beating heart out of my chest if he asked for it.
Another streak of lightning explodes through the sky as I climb over the console and onto his lap. He wraps his arms around my waist as I straddle his hips. No one can see us through the heavy rain streaming down the windows. The dense clouds cover us in a blanket of darkness, hiding our shadows from the outside world.
It’s as if the universe created this moment for us. A blip in time where it feels like we’re the only two people on the planet.
“Birdie,” Callum’s hot breath blows against my lips. He leans forward, pressing our foreheads together before sinking his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck.
“What do you need, Cal?” I whisper. “Tell me, and it’s yours. Anything.”
“You,” he says in a pained tone. “I need you.”
“I need you, Birdie,” he croaks, lowering his hands to my waist. His fingers shake as he lifts the hem of my sundress and slides it up to my hips.
My cheeks grow wet with emotion when his Adam's apple bobs and a low sob cracks from deep in his throat. In all the years I’ve known Callum, I’ve never seen him break down like this. It’s devastating.
“I don’t know what to do,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say.”
I quietly watch as Callum unbuttons his jeans and tugs the zipper down.
“I just want to be close to you right now,” he mutters hoarsely before lifting his hips and sliding his jeans and boxers down his thighs.
My eyes don’t move from his face. I don’t look down to take in his body like I normally would during sex because that’s not what this is about.
Nothing about this is sexy or provocative. It’s so much deeper than that.
This is pure need. It’s urgently swimming to the surface to get a single breath of air before the waves pull you back under.
It’s clinging to your lifeline when you feel like you have nothing else.
It’s finding solace in your partner when nowhere feels like home.
It’s love in the most raw, real sense of the word.
“I fucking need you, Birdie.” Callum lets out a devastating whimper that wounds my soul.
I instinctively lift my hips when he hooks a finger into my panties and pushes them to the side.
“I just…” he stammers, positioning his tip at my entrance, “need to be as close to you as possible. Make me forget, Birdie. You’re the only one who can take the pain away. You’re my anchor, Birdie Wren. You’ve been my foundation since the day I met you. I don’t know what I would do without–”
His breath hitches as I lower myself down his length until I’m fully seated. My heart rate skyrockets when I feel his girth settle inside me. I’ll never get used to being connected to Callum like this. Every time his body sinks into mine, it feels like a sacred experience.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” I shake my head. “I will never leave you. It’s you and me, Cal. It always has been.”
Our bodies don’t move as Callum stays buried deep inside me.
“I’m scared, Birdie,” he rasps. “I’m fucking scared. ”
My chin lip quivers as I nod my head.
“I know you are, Cal.” I brush my thumbs along his stubbled cheeks. “I know. But we’re going to get you the right help. The best treatment we can find.”
His jaw flexes as he shakes his head.
“This isn't fair,” he grits out. “This isn't fucking fair. After everything we’ve been through, I finally got you back. I just got you back, Birdie. I wanted to start a life with you. I wanted to make you my wife and raise babies together and–”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I cut him off.
His ocean eyes snap to mine.
“You are going to make me your wife, Callum Pierce,” I deadpan. “Because if you don’t after years of putting me through hell, then I will fucking kill you.”
That causes his lips to turn up in a half-smile. When I smile, too, we both let out a chuckle mixed with tears.
“And I assure you, we’re going to have the cutest damn babies,” I add with a faint grin. “We’re going to live a long, beautiful life together. And one day, when we’re old and gray and arguing about who snores the loudest, I’ll say I told you so.”
A melancholy smile curves Callum’s lips as another tear leaks from the corner of his eye. I cradle his face between my hands as the air between us turns serious. He holds my stare, his eyes darting between mine.
“I’m not going anywhere, Callum,” I repeat. “We’re in this together, okay? There’s nowhere I would rather be than right here with you.”
He nods, swallowing thickly.
“Okay,” he mutters. “I love you, Birdie Wren. I love you so much.”
He slips his hands beneath my cotton dress and softly caresses the bare skin of my hips.
“I love you too, Cal. ”
I smile as I think back to when I asked him to be my friend on the bus.
Do you want to be my friend, Callum?
I’ve never forgotten those eight words.
“Birdie and Callum, best friends forever, right?” I ask.
“Right,” he smiles, tears cascading down his face before leaning forward and capturing my lips in a soft kiss.
When he lifts his hips and starts to move inside me, we forget about the storm, his diagnosis, and the outside world.
Time seems to cease to exist as we fall apart in each other's arms.