CHAPTER 17 BEING A BURDEN #2
“Why don’t you like to accept help?” Talon asked,
crossing his strong arms over his broad chest. “It doesn’t make you weak.” He spoke firmly, words pointed.
It felt like I was in therapy. These were questions my counselor usually asked me.
Despite opening up to Talon, there were still pieces of my life I didn’t like to share.
The idea of being a burden weighed greatly on my mind.
This was my albatross to carry, and it didn’t feel fair to ask my friends for help. This was my life, not theirs.
“You’re not my therapist, Walker.” My head rested against the back of the couch.
“Help is hard to ask for when you’re used to doing things on your own. Did you know I was alone during my brain surgery? Sure, my parents helped financially because I was still on their insurance, but no one visited me for the few days I was in the hospital. Not friends or family.
I got sent home in a cab.”
Talon stared at me, open-mouthed. “What the actual fuck?”
“My parents were so pissed off that I tried to kill myself that they forced me into applying for jobs when I still had stiches in my head.” The words came out mangled, pained as if ripped from my soul.
“Darling,” Talon said slowly, sitting next to me on his couch. “Why are you even still speaking to them?”
“I can’t just abandon them when they covered the cost of ten surgeries. I only ever go back for one holiday a year. That’s all I feel I owe them, and it’s always uncomfortable and unpleasant.”
“So, why torture yourself? You’re an adult. The bills go to you now. Stop allowing people who clearly don’t care for you into your life. Me, Davis, Dre, Nat, and even Zeke are your family, okay? Forget everything else.”
My heart beat hard in my chest. Those words had been said to me a thousand times, yet when Talon said them, I was more willing to believe them. It seemed counterproductive that my brain needed someone else to say it.
“It’s hard to let go of the past,” I said, turning my head to face him. I leaned against his shoulder, craving his warmth. “I go to therapy and am getting better, but recovery is never linear. There are days that are better than others, but some days really, really suck.”
“That makes sense. Trauma can be hard. I know I still have hard days after Dad’s death and all the bullshit with Melody.”
We sat in silence for a while before Talon stood up to get ready for practice. He gave me one long look before leaving, and then one, soft kiss to my lips so quickly I barely felt it.
Once the door closed behind him, I sighed and pulled my laptop out. I had one more chapter on my dissertation before submitting to my advisor. Then it would just be edits and re-writes.
Before I could even thoroughly start my writing process, my phone went off. I glanced at the phone and felt dread enter my body as my mother’s name crossed the screen. Though I loved her, she irritated me deeply. Everything came back to her needs and her pain.
“I’m busy.” I was in no mood for pleasantries today. My body ached, and my mind was still beyond frazzled. Being a patient had a tendency to rattle my brain in the worst way possible.
“Lord knows I raised you better than that. That is no way to speak to your mother—”
“Frankly, after the way I was treated at Thanksgiving, you’re lucky I picked up the phone at all. Unless you’re about to apologize to me, I don’t really want or need to speak to you.”
Mom was silent for a moment. “Your words can hurt others, Aife.”
“So, my words hurt more than yours? You and Dad have said horrible things to me. The axe forgets, but the tree remembers. You called me a financial burden… many times. This last time around you both implied I was wasting my time getting a doctorate.
You both said spending money on my surgery was a waste. Dad said you should have let me kill myself. Neither you nor my brother said a word to defend me. I owe you nothing.”
My anger got the better of me, and I hung up the phone before even waiting for a response. I’d spent years working on my anger and reactions. Thanksgiving had nearly broken my spirit. My family that claimed to love me had significantly hurt me.
Wiping away the tears forming in my eyes, I turned back to my laptop. This paper wasn’t going to write itself. At the very least, it was a welcomed distraction. One more chapter, and it would be smooth sailing.
“I thought I told you to rest,” Talon said, closing his front door behind him. “Writing is not resting that brain of yours.”
My eyes met his over my laptop. “I’m literally almost done. One more paragraph, and I promise I’ll rest.”
Talon’s eyes softened a bit. He sighed and pulled a hand through his curly hair. “Don’t make me take that laptop away, woman.” He smiled gently, kissing my forehead with reverence.
“Shush, Talon. I’m literally almost done.” Typing a final sentence, I saved my dissertation before emailing it to my advisor. “See, officially done with the bulk of the writing.”
Shaking his head, Talon sat next to me. “You’re staying with me for a few days, okay?”
“Okay. Don’t you have games though? I don’t want to—”
“If you say burden, I will tackle you. Let’s just say you’re staying for the little bit of sanity I have left, okay?”
“Fine. How was practice?”
He sighed loudly, leaning his head against the back of his couch. Small worry lines etched the corners of his eyes. There were even the faintest of lines around his mouth. Talon looked tired, older than his twenty-eight years. A weight clearly rested heavily on him.
“Practice was brutal. Coach is pushing us hard to make playoffs. We haven’t been playing at our normal caliber, and it is definitely showing. Really the only guy that looks halfway decent is Zeke. Even he seems to be struggling right now,” he said, keeping his eyes closed.
“It sucks too because we are a talented team.”
“Are y’all just in a slump?” Popping my neck, I moved closer to him so we could cuddle.
He pulled me against his side gently. Talon brushed some of my hair behind my ear and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. He was always so gentle with me even before knowing my history. It was one of my favorite things—his care, his gentleness despite his size.
“I don’t think it’s a slump. We’re a better team than this, but I’m not even playing at my normal caliber. It’s like we’re playing down to our opponents,” Talon said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, maybe it is a slump.”
“Well, you are coming off an injury. You help lead the team, so your absence probably affected them. It’s only been a couple of weeks, so you have to give it time.”
“Yeah, but how much time? My contract is up this year, and I’m not ready to leave the Hammers.”
“Aren’t you like the face of the team right now?” I asked, rubbing small circles into his large chest.
Talon nodded, a low hum leaving his lips. He just looked exhausted. He was a perfectionist and very clearly had anxiety around his performance. I hated to diagnose like that, but it was easy to tell. The man had no idea how to destress. To be fair, neither did I.