Fix Me

by Lexy Timms

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Blind Sight Series

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  Chapter One

  Bree

  I REACHED OUT, KNOWING Luke was close. His hand grabbed mine, pulling them both to his thigh. The sun washed over my skin, flooding my body with warmth as the two of us laid next to the pool. I was wearing one of my favorite bikinis. I knew exactly what it looked like and could almost picture myself in it. Luke had been a huge help with helping me organize my clothes with the new toy my dad had bought. It was a pen that I could use to scan a tag, which told me what I was looking at.

  My body felt relaxed after the brief workout Luke and I had gone through earlier. It was part of my recovery he insisted. I needed to work out and do the things I used to enjoy. I had never run on a treadmill blind and didn’t think I could, but he had helped me figure it out. It felt good to run. And, for a blind woman, running on a treadmill was perfect.

  Despite everything going well, I still felt something was a little off. Damn the heightened senses.

  “Are we good?” I asked him, feeling the tension between us that had been slowly been building over the last couple of days.

  It had been a week since we had been to the doctor. Barely two weeks since we had decided we were going to be a couple and Luke had talked with my father, but I already felt like something was off. I never realized how much I depended on being able to see someone’s expression to tell how they were feeling until I couldn’t see them at all. Now, I found myself listening to their breathing. I felt the way he touched me and even now, he was holding my hand but I could feel tension.

  “What do you mean?” Luke asked.

  I turned my face to his. Even though I couldn’t see him, it just felt natural to be facing him while we talked. “I feel like you’re holding back, like there is something you want to say.”

  He blew out a breath. “Bree, I care about you. Probably far more than I should. All my training, all my experience, everything I know tells me I shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Doing this? What do you mean?”

  “You and me,” he said the words and it sounded like he was in pain.

  My heart sank. “You’re breaking up with me.”

  “I don’t want to. I care about you and I care about your recovery. I want to be here to support you, but I don’t think it’s smart for us to have a romantic relationship while I’m working for you. You are technically my boss. It blurs the lines. There are going to be days when we have an argument. I need to be able to do the right thing for you without worrying about whether you’re pissed at me or not. My job is to take care of your physical needs. I’m worried that I’m not going to be able to be objective and miss something.”

  “Is this because I don’t want the surgery?”

  “No. Yes. And wait, you’ve made a decision? I thought you were still thinking about it.”

  “I am, but if I don’t do it, which we both know is what I’m leaning toward, you’ll be angry,” I summarized.

  “I’m not saying that,” he said, but he didn’t say it with enough conviction to make me believe him.

  “You don’t want to be together,” I said.

  “I want to spend time with you. I want to be here with you. I want to be in your life, but I can’t be your caregiver and your boyfriend. I feel like a piece of shit for getting paid to have sex with you.”

  I had to laugh at the thought. “You don’t get paid to have sex with me.”

  “No, but we have sex when your dad is at work, during the time when I am being paid to be here with you. It feels dirty.”

  “Luke, it isn’t dirty.”

  “I would love to say I’ll just quit and still hang out with you, but I can’t afford to not have a job. I would still need to work which means I couldn’t be here with you. I don’t want that. I know it sounds stupid, but maybe we can take a step back until something changes.”

  That’s not at all what I’m saying. I’m saying right now, we need to get you in a place where you are independent without sight, or get your sight back. I want you any way I can get you, but I need you to be confident in who you are.”

  I knew what he was talking about because I wasn’t exactly relationship material at the moment. I was riding the line and couldn’t make a decision. What he was saying was that I needed to choose which world I was going to be in.

  “What if the surgery doesn’t work?” I said again for what had to be the hundredth time since we had met the doctor.

  “Ellis is a good doctor,” he said.

  Hearing him say her name set my teeth on edge. The woman was undoubtedly beautiful and I was jealous. And insecure. “I don’t care if she is the best doctor, she told you it’s very experimental. It’s a procedure they’ve only tried. It isn’t the gold standard.”

  “But they’ve had success,” he insisted.

  I shook my head. “Are you saying that if I don’t get the surgery, you don’t want to be with me?”

  Feeling him move, I knew he was sitting up. “I am not saying that. Not at all. If you choose not to do it, I understand. If you choose not to do the surgery, then you need to accept your future as an unseeing person. Can you do that?”

  I wanted to be angry. Yet, I was tired of being angry. “I don’t know.”

  “Bree, I’m in this with you no matter what you choose. I only want you to be happy. If you don’t want to do the surgery, it is your choice.”

  I could hear the disappointment in his voice. It was the same tone I heard in my father’s. I had tried repeatedly to explain to them how I felt and why I was hesitant. Though I knew it was silly, I kept thinking about the risks. What if the surgery didn’t work and it ruined any chance I had to ever see again?

  “I just don’t know,” I said. “I wish I could say yes or no. I wish I could just know what to do. But I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t I call Ellis. I can ask her to come over here and talk to you. It will allow you to be in a relaxed environment. You’ll be able to focus on what she is saying without reacting to the environment. I can be with you or you can just talk to her on your own.”

  It was a sweet gesture, but I had to wonder if it was just so he could see her again. But I was not going to sound like a whiny, jealous girlfriend if it killed me. “I’ll think about it.”

  He squeezed my hand. “That works for me.”

  “Does this mean no more quickies?” I teased.

  He groaned. “Don’t tease me. This is really for the best. It doesn’t change how I feel about you, but I want to make sure you are getting the best care possible and I don’t want to feel like I’m not doing my job.”

  As much as I understood his reasons, I didn’t like it. There was a little voice in the back of my head telling me that he was breaking up with me because he really wanted to be free of me. He had met what I assumed was an old flame and now that they had reconnected, and he wanted her. She was a doctor. A seeing doctor and was probably gorgeous.

  “You know, I think I might have caught something while we are the hospital. That is why I hate hospitals. If you’re not sick when you go in, you’re going to be sick when you get out.” I tried to keep it light. If I told him I wanted to be alone and crawl back into bed, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He would be the good man I knew him to be. He’d cater to me and try to make me feel better. I didn’t want to feel better. I wanted to wallow.

  “Uh-oh,” he said, his hand suddenly on my forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

  “I just feel kind of blah. If it’s okay, I’d like to lay down for a bit.”

  “Okay, I’ll get you back in there.”

  He walked me through the house and tucked me into bed. “You don’t have to stay with me.”

  “Are you sure?”

&n
bsp; “I’m sure. Maybe you can make me some of that chicken noodle soup you were boasting about?”

  He chuckled, his hand reaching out and touching my face. “I will and you’ll see just how much better you’ll feel.”

  I smiled, touching his hand before rolling to my side. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll check on you in a bit.”

  Closing my eyes, I listened to his footsteps fade and the door close. I let go of the breath I felt like I’d been holding. I had one blissful week. One. Seven days out of the last three months. That wasn’t fair. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself. Well, I could, but I didn’t want to.

  Luke had been an answer to prayer I didn’t know I had. And I’d been happy. Happier than I’d even been before the accident. Those first few days after waking up from the coma had been a nightmare. I remembered thinking I would never be happy again. Then Luke had come along. He’d shown me new ways to be happy. He’d given me hope for a future I didn’t think was possible. He’d made me feel alive and truly happy.

  And now he was dumping me. He had some good excuses and the rational part of me wanted to believe him, but then there was that part of me that believed I wasn’t good enough. He only wanted me until something better came along.

  I sneezed, confirming my suspicions that I had caught a bug. As if I wasn’t dealing with enough shit already, now I got to be stuffed up and unable to breathe along without being able to see. I had come to depend on my sense of smell and wasn’t looking forward to losing it, even if it was only for a few days.

  Groaning, I rolled to my back, throwing my arm out to the side. I needed to make a change. I needed to shit or get off the pot, as my father always said. I couldn’t live in limbo. Luke’s suggestion to talk to the doctor at the house was a good one. I could admit I’d barely heard what she’d been saying. My nerves were already shot just getting through the hospital and then getting shut down by the first doctor. I wasn’t really listening to what Dr. Ellis Tanner was saying. I was too busy imagining what she looked like. I had been too focused on the way Luke’s voice had changed when she approached us.

  Never had I ever felt jealous with Nate. Hell, I would have been grateful to any woman that wanted to take him off my hands. I wasn’t the clingy type. I missed being confident. I missed feeling pretty and strong. I missed feeling carefree.

  One week. For one week I had felt all those things. I felt the tears slide down my cheek and groaned again. I was so fucking sick of crying. I had cried enough for three lifetimes. Crying got me nowhere. Crying just made me feel worse and it definitely didn’t make me look any better. I was an ugly crier. I knew that from experience.

  I wiped my hand over my face, refusing to cry over something that may or may not be true. I inhaled through my nose, pushing away the feelings of despair and sadness. I didn’t want him to walk back in and see me bawling again.

  Chapter Two

  Luke

  I DIDN’T WANT TO MOVE again. Three moves, no, four in the same number of weeks was killing me. There was a rolling stone and then there was me. I stuffed the last of my clothes from the drawer into the suitcase that I’d barely had time to unpack and hauled it out to my car. I told myself it was a good idea, but in the back of my mind, I wasn’t so sure.

  Paul wanted me to live on the premises. Apparently, he had a busy couple of months coming up and he felt it would be easier and more convenient for all parties involved if I lived on there. I had explained to him that Bree and I were not going to pursue a relationship just yet. I made it clear I still cared about her, but until things were more settled, we were going to be strictly professional.

  To say the man was happy was an understatement. I had rejected the idea several times, coming up with numerous excuses, but Paul Sullivan wasn’t the kind of man that said no. I was sure he wanted me close to keep an eye on me and use me as an emergency babysitter. I didn’t mind, but dammit, I didn’t want to fucking move again. I needed to find a place that I could settle into.

  I was still struggling to break ties with Texas. If I didn’t settle in soon, it was going to be all too easy to quit and go back. I couldn’t do that. I refused to go back. My last visit to my mother’s house told me it was a bad idea and confirmed my belief I had done the right thing by getting away. But if I didn’t put down some roots very soon, it was going to be harder to resist the pull to go back.

  I took another look around the guest house that had been my home for a couple of weeks and mentally said goodbye. I was technically off for the day. I already had a key to the small cottage on the Sullivan property. Their idea of a cottage and mine were very different. It was essentially a house situated near the back of the property. There were two full bedrooms and a bathroom along with a decent sized kitchen and living room. My idea of a cottage was a tiny studio.

  I left the house, feeling a little guilty for abandoning the elderly owner after such a short period of time, but my need to take care of Bree outweighed any guilt. I was about five minutes from the Sullivan estate when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but that wasn’t surprising. I had a lot of applications and resumes out there.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Luke,” I heard Ellis say. I looked at the phone as if I could somehow see her face.

  “Ellis?”

  “Yes. Don’t tell me you forgot me already.”

  “Not at all. What’s up?”

  “I was wondering if you had some time to grab coffee. I would love to catch up.”

  I thought about my grand plans for the day which included unpacking my meager belongings and then nothing. “Sure. When?”

  “I’m free right now if you are.”

  I smiled, looking forward to talking to a friendly face. “Absolutely. Where?”

  We quickly arranged a place halfway between us. I turned the car around, anxious to see how Ellis had been doing. She had always been somewhat of a hero to me back in med school. She was one of those proteges and just to be in her presence was inspiring.

  Walking into the coffee shop, I quickly spotted Ellis at a table, her head bent down as she read from her tablet. She was always reading which was probably why she was so smart. “Reading again?”

  Her head popped up, a big smile on her face. She got up from her chair and gave me a firm hug. “I am. I was just reading up on the result of a new technique being performed—” she stopped talking. “I’m sorry. I get so carried away.”

  “I don’t mind a bit.”

  Taking a seat at the table, I sipped the iced mocha I had ordered. “You look good,” she said. “I don’t think you’ve aged a bit.”

  I laughed. “I hope I’ve aged a little.”

  “You know what I mean. How have you been?”

  “Really good. And you? Have you been in California for long?”

  She smiled, her gray eyes brightening. “Not too long. I was in India for a while. Then the UK and then New York.”

  “Wow!” I said thoroughly impressed. “Working?”

  “Yes. Gaining as much experience as I can. I’ve been lucky enough to work with some of the greatest doctors in the world.”

  I smiled, happy for her success. “Sounds like you’re well on your way to joining their ranks.”

  She waved a hand. “I have a lot to learn.”

  I wanted to ask her about Bree’s surgery, but didn’t want to violate any privacy laws. I was sure that was one of the underlying reasons for her invitation to coffee. “So, the surgery you proposed, have you done it before?”

  She grinned. “I was hoping you would ask. I was involved in the trials. It isn’t an overly complicated surgery, but it is new and sadly, so many doctors are afraid to be the one to make it a standard.”

  “But you’re not?”

  Her eyes flashed. “I’m a pioneer. At least, that’s what one of my mentors told me.”

  “Is it risky?” I asked, knowing we weren’t technically violating any laws since we were talking about a procedure, not a patient.


  She shrugged. “Every surgery has risks. However, a person that has had surgery before without any complications is going to have fewer risks. We already know they aren’t going to have a bad reaction to the anesthesia, and all.”

  “Good point.”

  “Is your client interested?” she asked, getting right to the point.

  I shrugged, shaking my head. “You offer something she didn’t think she could have. She’s been turned down a lot. She’s been given high hopes, only to have them dashed again and again.”

  “I understand,” she said thoughtfully.

  “She’s been through a lot,” I said, feeling like I needed to defend her.

  “Yes, she has, but this surgery could change her life.”

  “And it might not,” I countered. “She has been told by every doctor she’s gone to that there is no chance. You are offering her something that has only been done on a handful of people. She’s understandably a little worried.”

  “There are no guarantees, but I can tell you the patients that took the risk are very happy they did. They can see. Some can see better than they did before their accidents.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  She leaned forward, her long brown hair falling around her shoulders. “It is amazing. If she allows me to do this, she could be a pioneer right alongside me. She could be the hope other people in her same situation need.”

  I wished Bree felt that way. I knew she was too scared to even consider the possibility she could regain her sight again. “I talked with her a bit and I had an idea,” I said, not sure if it was something Ellis would do.

  “What’s your idea?” she asked with a smile.

  “I was wondering if the two of you could talk but outside of the hospital. She has some PTSD from the accident and the hospital is a trigger. The sounds and the smells. She wasn’t in the best shape when you met her. I think if you could talk at a place like this or even at her house, she might be a little more receptive and able to hear what you are saying.”

  “Absolutely,” she answered without me getting down on my knees and begging her.