22. Gareth
Chapter twenty-two
Gareth
This sucks. No one likes being injured or sick, but this just sucks.
I'm in a cast up to my groin, with a handle hanging from the ceiling for me to pull myself up if I want to sit.
Not only does my heart still hurt from Trey, everything in my life just got more complicated.
I live in a walkup. I live alone. I won't be able to drive myself to work.
I'll have to take medical leave. I can Door dash my groceries, I guess, but I certainly can't take care of the kids.
They're mostly self-sufficient, but in an emergency, I wouldn't be able to protect them the way that I should.
I'm in a foul mood when the door opens and Lindsey walks back in with Micah and Lily trailing behind her. I force a smile to my face.
"We brought you someone, Daddy," Lily says, and I look behind her to see Trey. My mouth hangs open in surprise.
"Wha... what are you doing here?"
He looks down at Lil with such a soft smile on his face it hits me like a truck. His huge, copper colored hand dwarfs Lil's tiny white one.
"I made someone a promise," he says, and Lily beams up at him like he's Santa.
I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the emotion that clogs it. This is absolute torture. The man I'm in love with, who doesn't want to be with me, is standing in my hospital room, at my most vulnerable time, staring lovingly at my kiddos.
I close my eyes, desperately trying to pull back the tears that threaten to fall.
There's a light tap at the door before a nurse pops her head in. "I'm sorry but visitation hours are over."
"Are you okay with the kids?" Trey asks Lindsey.
Is he offering to watch them for her? Do I want him to?
Christ, I don't know how I feel right now. Everything feels too big and I don’t know how to process any of itI want him to curl up in the bed with me as much as I never want to see him again.
The pain is too fresh. I was supposed to never see him again.
"Alright guys, give Daddy a kiss 'goodbye'. He has to rest now," Linds says, and I swipe away a tear before plastering a brittle smile back on. They both come over and give and receive hugs and kisses from me before wishing me well and leaving.
Trey stays, and I don't know what it means.
My heart continues to break as we stand there, staring at each other.
I don't bother to hide the tears now, but his face is completely unreadable.
I don't care if he knows how much he hurt me.
I deserve it. He looks as devastatingly handsome as ever. And for a moment he was mine.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, finally finding my voice and willing this moment to end.
How am I supposed to get over him when he's standing in front of me, looking so stupidly handsome and every ounce my dream man.
"Lindsey called."
That's it. That's all he gives me. I don't know what kind of promise he made to Lily, but I'm not his problem anymore. He made that abundantly clear.
"You're not supposed to be here. Visitation hours are over," I say, in a pathetic attempt at getting him to leave.
As if I've summoned her, the charge nurse pops her head back in. "Are you family? Visiting hours are over."
"I'm family. He's my fiancé," Trey replies, and my eyes widen. The nurse looks at me for confirmation but I have no idea what he's doing. I don't want him here, but apparently he's decided he's staying.
Whatever the nurse sees on my face must be enough for her, though, because she shuts the door again, leaving me trapped in my worst nightmare.
The tears break free again, and in a smaller voice I ask, "What are you doing here?"
"Attempting to have an adult conversation," he replies, frowning.
"What does that mean?" I whisper.
He comes and sits on the corner of my bed, carefully away from my leg.
"I'd like to get some things off of my chest, and I'd like you to listen."
I nod. What else can I do? I can't exactly walk out of here.
"I've never been in a relationship. I've never dated.
Never wanted to. I lost my virginity to a sex worker, who made me feel safe and seen.
It's what inspired me to go into this line of work.
But beyond a few crushes in high school, I've never felt the desire to be with someone outside of a professional relationship.
Then my high school bully shows up and wants to hire me.
At first, I'm not completely convinced he's changed.
But the more time I spent with him and his kids, the more I fell for him, and started wanting things I'd never wanted before. "
The tears are a waterfall at this point, because I don't know if the rest of the story is that he hates me, or if it has a happy ending.
My chin quivers, and I'm not too proud to cry in front of him. I love him. But all I can do is sit here and take it.
"But the problem with this client is that he's not ready to come out of the closet.
And I'm afraid that if I stay with him and be his secret boyfriend, he'll never have to get out of the closet.
And if he never comes out of the closet, he'll never know how to be authentically, genuinely, happily himself. "
Frustration rolls through me like a hurricane.
"Fuck the closet!" I shout, the volume surprising even myself. "I don't give a shit about the closet. Tell the entire fucking world, I'm gay. I'm in love with you, Trey. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?!"
I swipe angrily at my tears, and I swear a corner of his mouth ticks up which only encourages my anger.
"Scoot over."
I'm still angry and confused and in pain, but when he stands and brings my hand to the handle, and gently shifts my hips to the side, I don't fight him on it. The hospital bed isn't big enough for the two of us, but when he lays on his side and gathers me into his arms, I break.
Years of pain, hurt, frustration, anger, embarrassment, shame, and guilt pour out of me onto his shirt and he holds me through it, stroking my back slowly and holding me to his chest with his hand on the back of my head, playing with my hair.
I don't know if it's the pain meds or the emotional release, but I wake up a few hours later, still in his arms.
He wouldn't have held me like this if it was really over, would he? What did he mean by an adult conversation? I still don't know where that leaves us. But he's here. And I feel safe, wrapped in his thick arms, his scent overpowering the antiseptic of the hospital.
A nurse comes in to check on me. The lights are dim so it must be the middle of the night.
"How is your pain level?" she asks, checking my monitor and IV, which is mostly empty.
"Good. Manageable." I know I struggle with addiction so I'm very wary of taking any narcotic pain killers. My leg aches, but it's not unbearable.
"He should really be in his own bed," she admonishes, but she'll have to fight me if she wants to take him from me.
"Try telling him that," I whisper, in case he's still sleeping. But when his arms tighten around me, I know he's not as asleep as he's pretending to be.
The nurse grumbles something under her breath but leaves us alone. When I peer up at him, his eyes are open, looking down on me.
"I can sleep on the couch, if you're uncomfortable?"
I'm a little sore from staying in one position for too long, but I don't care.
"What does this mean, Trey? Why are you here?"
"I had some time to think about things, and I decided I don't want to be another person who walks out on you when things get tough."
I swallow, still needing to hear the words.
"So... are we... are you...?"
"Your boyfriend. Now go back to sleep," he grumbles, pulling me closer and resting his chin on top of my head.
Relief rushes through me and I sag against him.
It feels too good to be true, but I know that's my past talking.
Things had gotten tough and he had left, but he's back now. And calling himself my boyfriend.
And that has to be enough.