I answered, immediately putting her on speaker phone.
“Hello, my son,” she said, her voice warm and comforting. “What did the doc say?”
“Not much. Just getting the kinks worked out of the medications.”
“Still having bad dreams?”
“Every night. And apparently, they’re worse than Naomi’s been letting on.”
“Oh?”
“She’s exhausted, Jenn.”
“Stop,” Naomi whispered, lacing her fingers through mine.
“Well, maybe I could come help? Let her get some rest?”
“I’m fine,” Naomi said. “How are you, Jenn?”
“Worried about my boy. Is he okay?”
“He’s getting there,” Naomi said, raising the back of my hand to her lips.
“Glad he has you,” Jenn said. “Zeke, call me later. I mean it.”
“I will,” I said. “Love you.”
“Love you too. So much.”
We hung up, and I sighed, covering my face with my hand.
“What’s up?” Naomi asked.
“She doesn’t mean to, but she makes me feel like I’m dying.”
“That has to be frustrating. Try to remember that she’s just worried and processing in her own way. She wants to be supportive.”
I nodded, itching my nose with my free hand. I stared out the window, feeling my eyes burn.
“Talk,” Naomi said.
“It just sucks,” I said, my voice breaking. “My mom is worried sick, my family is scared, and it’s my fault. Well, not my fault, you know what I mean. And my girlfriend is a fucking superhero, and I’m weak.” I cleared my throat. “Do you know what it’s like not to deserve someone?”
“Yep,” she said, taking her eyes off the road for half a second to look at me.
“Who? Me? You think you don’t deserve me?”
She shook her head slowly.
“Talk,” I said.
It took her a while to speak. She held her knee against the bottom of the steering wheel to use the back of her hand to wipe an escaped tear from her cheek instead of letting go of my hand.
I frowned. “Babe,” I said. “What is it?”
Death had already taken away someone she’d loved. Now she was dating some shmuck with a heart condition. She was exhausted and worried while I felt sorry for myself, and that was on me. I suddenly felt ten times worse.
My heart beat loudly in my ears, drowning out the road noise while I waited to hear what her tears meant.
“It’s just … you’re so good. You’re so good Zeke. You don’t deserve this. I wish I was a better person. I’m trying.”
I turned in my seat to face her. “You’re perfect. You’re better than perfect, Naomi. How can you think you’re not enough?”
“How can you think you’re not? It breaks my heart that you feel like that.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing I could say would make it better. If I explained that I barely deserved her before, that now I was so much less than she deserved, it would hurt her. She would never agree, but she didn’t have to. I knew the truth.
“You’re more than enough, Naomi. I’m just holding on until you’re gone. And I guess you’re holding on ‘til I’m gone too. And that’s shit. You deserve better.”
She frowned. She was annoyed now. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that to me again. Do I look like a pussy to you? Do I look like I would cut and run at the first sign of difficulty? That’s insulting.”
“I’m sorry. I just meant that … no. I know you’re not. I know you wouldn’t. But I also don’t want you to stay just because you’re stubborn.”
“I stay because I love you. I wasn’t kidding when I said it. I’m in this with you.”
“No man left behind?”
Her cheeks glowed red. “You’re not a fellow Marine—
you’re my boyfriend. It’s not duty. It’s not even loyalty; it’s just love.” She breathed out, as if the truth took more energy than she had.
I looked down, shame taking another swallow, sucking me into the hole I was already trapped in. I was punishing her for my insecurities, and that made me worse than a sick man in love with a woman like Naomi. That just made me pathetic. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood.” Liar.
She pulled into her drive.
“Maybe you should just take me back to the hotel so you can get some rest,” I said.
“No. No, I’m taking care of you tonight. We’re going to take a bath and lay in bed naked, and I’m going to remind you that being sick doesn’t make you less of a man.”
I leaned toward her, my elbow on the console. Not even shame could deter me from that plan. “You’re perfect, you know that, right?”
“Yes, I do. I also know you’re perfect for me. Stop making me work for it, okay?”
I breathed out a laugh to mask the lump in my throat. I’m going to lose her. She’ll either leave me, or I’ll push her away because I can’t let it go that I don’t feel like I measure up. I wasn’t sure how to fix it other than pretending I deserved her. I could tell the occasional white lie, but living one took more energy than I had. “Deal.”
chapter thirty-one
the elephant
Naomi
Z
eke and I sat at a table near the dance floor at McCormack’s. The day lights had been dimmed, the regulars already drunk and heading home. We were celebrating Watts buying his first house, even if it was in the armpit of Colorado Springs.
Zeke seemed bored, watching Jerry trying to shoo people holding drinks in their hand off the new dance floor. He sipped his water, his chin in his hand. Watts was at the bar, drinking a beer before he came back to sit with us.
“Hey,” I said, nudging Zeke’s arm. “What’s up?”
“I’m a pretty good dancer. Did I ever tell you that?”
“A few times.”
“I never got to swing you around out there. I thought I had plenty of time.”
“I’m terrible, but if you want to dance, just ask.”
He shook his head. “Better not.”
“Oh, c’mon. We’ll take it easy. Won’t do anything that gets you too out of breath … until we get home.”
He finally smiled. The first weeks after his diagnosis, Zeke stayed positive about it all, but as time went by and more test results came back, he became sullen and depressed. Fire season was approaching, and he was waiting on word if they would allow him back regardless of Dr. Levine’s refusal to release him and my pleading for him not to appeal to the higher ups.
He laced his fingers between mine. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“So,” Watts said, putting his cell phone on the table. “Kansas might come visit.”
“Oh yeah? You finally talked her into it?” I asked.
“She wants to see my place before fire season starts.” He glanced at Zeke for a reaction. “Sorry.”
Zeke shook his head. “Don’t be. Chief will get me back in.”
Watts shook his head. I already knew what he was going to say, and I wasn’t going to stop him. It was a relief for someone else to offer tough love for a change.
“Zeke, it’s not going to happen, brother. I’m sorry, but the appeal is just a formality for them. They can’t put you out there. If something happens and we’re miles away from any hospital…”
“Bobby can fly me out. He can set down pretty much anywhere, in any conditions.”
“You want him to stop dropping loads to keep the guys safe to Mediflight you out?”
“The Mediflight guys can take over when he comes back to reload the slurry.”
Watts shook his head. “Listen to yourself, man. They’re not going to put us at a disadvantage just to hire you. You know it doesn’t work like that.”
“Fuck you,” Zeke said.
“Hey.” I nudged him.
He looked away, angry.
We ended the celebration early, walking out to Zeke’s truck. I purposefully walked through a cloud of smoke moving slowly toward the bar’s entrance, breathing in deeply. I miss smoking. So much.
“I’m proud of you for quitting,” Zeke said.
I shrugged. “I needed to anyway.”
He unlocked the doors, and we both climbed up into our seats. I pulled the seatbelt across my chest and it clicked, the only sound in the car.
Zeke sat behind the wheel, staring at the center of it, lost in thought.
“I know,” I said, rubbing his thigh.
“You don’t know. If you wanted back into the Marines, they’d take you tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to go back,” I said, realizing it as I said the words. I used to miss it every day. I used to need it as a distraction. After meeting Zeke, life was good again. Now, my days were filled with trying to get us back there. “I did my time. It was time for something new.”
“I wasn’t ready.”
My brows pulled in as I watched him process his anger, grief, and disappointment all in the same few minutes.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “You’ve gotta quit saying that.”
“I don’t know what else to say. What should I say?” I asked.
He leaned forward, pressed the button to start the truck, then backed out of the parking space. I kept my hand on his thigh, but he drove home in silence with both hands on the wheel.
At home, Zeke showered without me, and I waited for him to come to bed, using my tablet to devour medical journals and peer-reviewed research; anything on the Internet that discussed Zeke’s condition.
He came out in a thin yellow towel wrapped around his waist. “I know you’re trying,” he said. “I know it’s the only thing you can do, but you shouldn’t have to. I want normal back. I know you want it back too.”
“I want you. That’s it. As-is.”
He grinned. “Limited warranty?”
I pulled back the cover and sheets. “Come to bed.”
He dropped the towel and crawled in next to me, wrapping his arms around my thighs and hugging me to him as he rested his head in my lap. “I’m sorry I’m not handling this well.”
“How are you supposed to handle it? Are there rules I don’t know about?”
He squeezed me tighter. “I just don’t want to hurt you, Naomi.”
“Then don’t,” I said, putting away the tablet. I ran my fingers through his wet hair, watching him relax.
I’d seen the behavior before with wounded soldiers. Adjustment sucked ass. Transition wasn’t easy. But if I could just get Zeke to hang in there with me, we could make it through together. He was going through the stages of grief, but his frustrations grew with each passing day—sometimes with each passing hour.
The next morning, Zeke set out to meet his foster mom in Denver. Jenn planned a long layover before her connecting flight to see one of Zeke’s pregnant sisters. They planned to discuss his health, so I opted to stay behind. I’d meet her another time—a better time.
I went for a run, mowed the lawn, cleaned the house then took a shower before settling on the couch to do more research. It was a typical Saturday, except I knew when Zeke returned, he’d likely be upset and cranky.
I wasn’t wrong.
At four o’clock, he slammed the door, and I looked up at him with a frown.
“Really?” I asked.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to close it that hard.”
“How’s your mom?”
“Fine. Chatty. Overly curious. She says the Mayo Clinic has an entire department devoted to HCM.”
“Hmmm,” I chirped.
“I know, I know, you’ve told me a dozen times.”
“If you’ll listen to your mom, whatever. Can we apply now?”
He frowned, going into the kitchen. “I’ll think about it.” He opened the cabinet, then the freezer, then the sink faucet turned on. Zeke walked out with two cups of ice water in his hand, giving one to me.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip. “What’s to think about? It’s cutting edge treatment.”
“I’m telling you the same thing I told Jenn: I don’t want treatment—I want a cure.”
I sighed. “I know. It’s so frustrating, but they’re not there yet.”
“I’ll go when they are,” he said, standing and disappearing into the bedroom.
I sighed, watching him go, then sipped my water again. I wanted a cigarette. The house was wiped top to bottom, the carpets cleaned. I didn’t want any residue left since Zeke was staying with me most of the time. I’d quit cold turkey and had to weather Zeke’s mood swings as well as my own emotions about his illness; my entire body screamed for one.
I grabbed a pen and chewed on it, staring at the bedroom door. I stood and walked to the bedroom. He was just putting on a pair of sweatpants.
“Hey,” I said. “Can we talk?”
He sighed. “If it’s about my heart, then no.” I made a face. He did, too. “I’m tired of talking about it, Naomi. I just want things to go back to normal.”
“We can get close if you get the treatment you need.”
He sat on the bed and leaned back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Babe. Seriously.”
“Just tell me why. Why are you so against it?”
“I just don’t want to.”
I tilted my head, feeling like his mother instead of his girlfriend. “That’s a shit answer. We’re not talking about you taking me to a chick flick, Zeke. This is your life. I want you to stick around for a long time.”
He hooked his arm over his eyes, seeming embarrassed to say his next words. “What if you don’t stick around?”
“What?” I asked, my voice higher and louder than I’d meant for it to be.
He cleared his throat. “Sometimes people leave. Sometimes they don’t wait.”
“You won’t get treatment because you think I’ll pack up before you get home?”
“It happens.”
I sighed and sat next to him, touching his knee. He’d been abandoned so many times before, I couldn’t blame him for worrying. “I’m not your mom. I’m not Becca. I swear to God, Zeke. I’ll wait for you.”
He moved his arm and locked his gaze on mine. “I’m not chancing it. Not with you.”
My hands tightened into fist. I wanted a cigarette, and I wanted to punch something. “Okay. I’ll be back, but I have to get some air,” I said, standing and turning on my heels.
Zeke sat up. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” I said, gathering my things. “McCormack’s? Maybe for a drive?”
“Don’t go,” he said, his voice small.
I pointed all four fingers at him. “You’re literally throwing a tantrum in my bed. I know everything feels like it’s crumbling around you, but you’re not even trying! Are you just going to sit around here and die?”
His face turned severe. “I’ve lost everything! My career, my future, my family, my health!”
“You have me! You still have your family; what are you talking about?”
“My brothers! My crew! You want me to smile and pretend everything’s fine so it doesn’t make you feel bad?”
“Fuck. You.”
“Just leave then,” he said, laying back against his mound of pillows.
My mouth fell open. “This is my house! You leave!”
“Maybe I will!” he said, sitting up again, his feet touching the floor. He grabbed his knees and leaned forward, obviously dizzy.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, rushing over and kneeling in front of him. I touched his neck, searching for a pulse. His heart was working hard, but nothing crazy.
“I’m fine,” he said, trying to push my hand away.
I grabbed his wrist. “Let me help you, damn it. Let me love you! What is wrong with you?” I said, standing. “Why are you taking this out on m
e?”
“I don’t know!” he yelled, breathing hard. His voice softened, his wild eyes, returning to the Zeke I knew. “I don’t know.” He grabbed me and pulled me against his chest, holding me tight. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He covered his face. “I’m so sorry. I just… I don’t know how to fix this.”
“We don’t,” I said, my cheek against his chest. “It’s not going away, Zeke. We work with it. We handle it. We don’t fight each other.”
He let me go and nodded, his head hanging in shame. “I don’t think I’d win anyway.”
I smiled and play-punched his shoulder. “That’s right, so quit pissing me off.”
His expression turned sad. “I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I see what’s happening, and I hate it. But I’m so fucking angry, Naomi. I don’t want this for either of us.”
I stretched up, pressing my lips against his. “The important things between us are still the same. I know it’s not enough, but we can work with that. We can build a life with that, even if it’ll be different than what you thought.”
“Than what you thought.”
I touched my forehead to his. “Please? Please try.”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll do better.”
“So you’ll let me make an appointment?”
He thought about it. “Not yet. I need more time.”
“Zeke.”
“I know. Time is one thing we don’t have.”
I cupped his cheeks. “Please? Please.”
“Because I’ll die? Because you don’t need another funeral?”
I closed my eyes and sat back on my haunches, rubbing my face in frustration. “Can we live in the present, please?”
“You first.”
I looked up at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He winced. “Fuck. Fuck, Naomi. I hate who I am right now.”
I pressed him back gently onto his back and tugged the hem of his shirt upward, but he stopped me.
“I just tried to kick you out of your own house.”
I reached up to run my hands over his skin, and he sighed. “This is when we’re us. This is when nothing else matters. So get naked with me.”
He stared at the ceiling. “It’s a distraction.”
“A good one.”
The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2) Page 24
