by Lexy Timms
She didn’t tell me about her fall because she didn’t trust me. That hurt. I thought we made up for my shitty behavior earlier in the week, but I sensed she was still holding back. She was still guarded. She was afraid I would see her as weak and unworthy.
I spaced out, thinking about my mom and my life in general. Was I doing the right thing? Maybe it was me trying to feel better about myself by gravitating towards people that needed me. I didn’t want Bree to need me. I was sure of that. But I did like being the one she leaned on. It did make me feel good. Was I using her injury to make myself feel better?
The sound of the whistling tea kettle pulled me out of my daydream. I would do what was best for Bree. I would get her through the next few weeks and encourage her to seek out some professional help from a skilled rehab specialist. I would take a step back and let her do this part on her own. If and when she was ready, we could be together.
“Bree?” I called out, letting her know I was coming into the room.
“I’m decent,” she answered.
I smiled. It was a little silly for us to observe such formalities. I had seen her naked several times, but we were supposed to keeping a professional distance. She was sitting in her favorite chair by the window. I carried the tea over and sat in the empty chair next to hers. “Here,” I said, putting the pills in her hand.
She held out her other hand, waiting for the cup. “Thank you.”
“It was a nice day at the beach,” I commented.
She shrugged. “It was.”
“Everything okay?” I asked, afraid she was falling back into that depression that seemed to always be hovering.
“Yes.”
I saw a tear slide down her cheek and knew she was definitely not okay. “Do you feel like talking about it?” I gently asked.
She blew out a breath. “I don’t know what there is to talk about. I don’t even really know why I’m sad. I feel such a heavy despair, it weighs me down. Every time I think I’m going to be okay and things look up, it’s like a little monster reaches up and pulls me back into the pit. Why won’t it just let me go?”
I didn’t know a lot about depression, but as a nurse, I was trained to look for the signs and when to send a patient for professional help. “Have you talked to someone?” I asked.
She smiled as she turned to look at me. “If you mean a shrink, I did a few times when I was recovering. I don’t feel like I need therapy. I need to just be me again.”
“You need to talk to someone about how you feel.”
“I’m talking to you.”
“I’m glad you are talking to me, but I’m not sure how much help I can be. I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I want to make sure you are getting the best help you can get, physically and mentally.”
She was quiet for several seconds. I let her be. I let her sort through her thoughts while I sorted through my own. “I want the surgery,” she said, after being quiet for so long.
I blinked, trying to school my features to hide my shock before I remembered she couldn’t see my expression. I let my surprise show. “With Ellis?”
“Is there someone else willing to do it?” she teased.
I laughed. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. This is a good thing, right?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes. I think it is. I hope it is.”
“When did you decide?”
“A couple days ago,” she said with a coy smile.
“What?” I shrieked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honestly, because I wasn’t sure I could do it. I didn’t fully make up my mind and I didn’t want to tell you I would do it and then back out. I didn’t want to let you down. If I backed out, only me and Ellis would know.”
“So, you’ve talked to her?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head, surprised by her initiative. It was a flash of the woman I had gotten to know before. It was the real Bree fighting to get out of the broken body she was in. “Wow,” I said again.
“Is that a wow, you are excited or wow, you’re angry I didn’t tell you?”
“It’s a wow I’m proud of you.”
“Ellis didn’t tell you?” she asked.
I winced, thinking about our last conversation. I had been a little rude. “No, she didn’t. I haven’t talked to her.”
That seemed to satisfy her. There was a little smile on her face. “Oh.”
“When do you go for an appointment? I assume there is a pre-op or something.”
“She was flying to Chicago and said she would be back Sunday to check on me. I think she expects me to change my mind.”
“I’m sure she wants you to be confident in your decision. Does your dad know?”
“Nope. I told no one.”
It all made sense. It explained why she had been withdrawn. It also explained her mood swings. “You’ve been keeping this all in. No wonder you’re stressed out.”
“I know this sounds horrible, but I have to talk myself into it almost every minute of the day. When I fell, I kept thinking about the surgery and what if it didn’t fix my eyes. My entire life depends on this surgery. I don’t like anything having that much power over me, but it does.”
“It is a huge decision. You do what feels right. Everyone in your life will support you no matter what you decide.”
“Except my dad,” she quipped. “I don’t think he will ever forgive me if I decide against it. I can already feel him pulling away.”
“Your dad is struggling with the fact that he can’t control the outcome. He’s a powerful man used to getting what he wants. This is one thing he cannot do on his own.”
“Stay with me tonight,” she blurted out.
“Bree,” I said in a warning tone. “I can’t.”
“No sex. I just want you to hold me. I don’t want to be alone.”
Her offer was too good to pass up. “Okay.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to go to the cottage, change and grab a few things. Think about what you would like for dinner. Remember, I’m a bachelor and cooking for me is more about eating than actually enjoying the food.”
She softly laughed. “We’ll keep it simple. I could just order something.”
“Nah, I’ll cook. I’m sure there must be a box of mac and cheese or something in that massive kitchen isn’t there?”
She burst into laughter. “I seriously doubt that.”
“We’ll rummage through the cupboards together and see what we can find. It’ll be fun.”
She turned her face up to me with a look on her face that made me just want to kiss her until neither of us could breathe. “I’m looking forward to that.”
I left her in the room. She seemed to be in better spirits. The thought of spending the evening with her made me very happy. I hoped she would talk, open up a little more. If she could unburden herself it would help her feel better about the surgery. I wasn’t going to lie; I was thrilled with the idea of her getting the surgery. I wanted her to get her sight back. I wanted her to have the best chance of living the life she was craving. And mostly, I wanted us both out of this limbo.
I threw some things in a bag and took a quick shower to get rid of the sand. I told myself not to get too excited about the surgery. She could still change her mind. I had to remember it was her choice. I didn’t get to push what I wanted on her.
“I’m back,” I called out as I walked back towards the room.
She rose from her chair when I walked in. “I’m still here.”
She moved to step towards me. The small table between the two chairs was directly in her path. “Watch—” I called out at the same moment she hit the edge of the table, the teacup clattering to the floor and shattering.
“Ow!” she cried out.
I rushed towards her and saw the blood on her foot. “Oh shit,” I gasped. I dropped my duffel and scooped her up. “Are you okay?”
A tear slid down her cheek as I laid her on the bed. “I’m so tired of t
his,” she whispered. “I hate it. I can’t keep living like this.”
“Bree, it’s okay,” I assured her. I checked out her foot and decided the cut was definitely worthy of stitches. While I could do it, it was best she went to the hospital.
“It’s not okay,” she whined.
“I don’t want to freak you out, but we need to go to urgent care or the ER, your choice. You need a couple of stitches.”
She groaned. “Seriously?”
“Yes. It isn’t a big deal, just a couple stitches.”
She put a hand over her face. “This is such bullshit. What the hell did I do to deserve all this?”
I dropped a kiss on her forehead. “It’s a small cut. You’re going to be fine.”
I scooped her up and carried her back to my car. So much for our peaceful evening.
Chapter Fifteen
Bree
I WOKE UP, MY FOOT throbbing on the pillow it was propped up on. I tried to stretch my toes and flinched when the pain from the stitched cut shot up my leg. I was still so pissed at myself. It was the little things that still tripped me up—literally. I was used to walking without really paying attention. Now, everything I did required concentration. I had to move slow. I had to feel out where I was going. I had not done that and now I was bruised and stitched. Painful reminders.
Slowly, I got out of bed and hobbled towards the kitchen in search of coffee. With the K-cups, I could make my own coffee, which was just a little piece of independence. I had insisted Luke go home last night. He had slept in the chair the first night, too afraid to sleep in bed with me. He didn’t want to kick me in the middle of the night.
“Bacon?” I whispered. I slowly walked into the kitchen. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Luke said.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m making you breakfast,” he answered.
I smiled. “You didn’t have to do that. I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy today.”
He laughed. “I am. That doesn’t mean we starve. I thought we could hang out, listen to one of those books you have or maybe we can just lay by the pool.”
I found my way to one of the barstools and sat down. “I can’t walk. I can’t see. I have never felt so worthless in all my life.”
“You are not worthless. You’ll be able to walk in a few days. Your cut is in a weird place and we don’t want it to pull. I wish you would have agreed to use a wheelchair for a few days.”
I groaned. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Fine, but you have to take it easy. Do you want eggs?”
I slowly shook my head. “I’m not hungry. I will take coffee, though.”
“You need to eat,” he lectured. “You especially need to eat with your meds. You don’t want that cut getting infected.”
“Fine, I’ll have some bacon.”
“Who says there is bacon?” he teased.
“Don’t forget my heightened senses,” I said, with a laugh.
“Bacon and some toast,” he bargained.
“You are not my nurse today,” I warned.
“I’m your friend and I’m telling you that you need to eat. You have to keep your strength up.”
“For?”
“If you want to have that surgery, you have to be in good health. Ellis is thorough. If she suspects you are sick or struggling, she’s going to postpone.”
I tried to roll my eyes. “Stop. It’s a stupid cut. I’m not sick.”
“You have to be strong in all ways. She told you that. She told you those first few weeks following the surgery are going to be taxing. You have to be in fighting form and ready to kick ass. Consider me your trainer. I’m sending my prized fighter into the ring and I want you ready.”
I forced a laugh. “That’s quite the analogy.”
“Eggs or toast?” he said, not giving me a way out.
“Toast. Bully.”
I heard his laughter and couldn’t help but laugh. He was stubborn. He was exactly what I was going to need after the surgery. I was dreading those first few days and weeks after it was done. I pushed the thought to the side, needing to focus on the good. I had to stay in the right headspace.
“Here you go, my lady,” he said, in a horrible British accent.
He was in a good mood. I wanted to be in a good mood, too. I told myself to just choose that. I had a great man in my life and that’s what really mattered. There was a good chance my situation was temporary. Okay, a small chance, but still a chance.
He sat beside me. I nibbled on the bacon, forcing myself to eat. “Delicious,” I said turning to him. “Thank you for this.”
“You are welcome. Is Mel coming over still?”
“I think so.”
“I’ve got to run a few errands. I’ll probably be gone two hours, three tops. I don’t want you to be here by yourself.”
I sighed, so tired of being babysat. “I’ll be fine. I’ll sit in the solarium or hang out in the living room and watch—I mean listen—to a movie. I won’t do anything risky. With me lately, that includes walking and showering.”
“It was an accident,” he assured me. “I trip. I run into things. Everyone does. It happens.”
I slowly shook my head. “I don’t think it is quite the same.”
“No, not exactly the same, but I think you know what I mean.”
“I do.”
We finished eating. I sat on the stool like a bump on a log while he cleaned up. It made me feel completely useless. I hated to think it, but I was looking forward to him leaving me alone. I wanted to be alone. Mel wasn’t coming over. I didn’t want company. I wanted to be alone.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asked me for the tenth time after getting me situated in the living room.
“No. I’m good. You’ve got me all set up. All I’m missing is a bedpan.”
He chuckled. “Trust me, I thought about it.”
“Not a chance in hell buddy, not a chance in hell.”
His soft laughter washed over me. “Fine, but please, stay put. I’ll be back in a few hours. Do you want me to pick up anything?”
“I’m good, thank you. That’s the one thing I can do.”
“What’s that?”
“I can shop,” I said with a smile. “I speak into the air or use my iPad and voila, whatever I want shows up at the gate within a few hours or days.”
“You really have to meet my friend Austin. You two take hermit living to an entirely new level. Did I tell you he built a nightclub in his house, so he doesn’t have to leave?”
I laughed. “Yes, you did, and I think it’s a great idea. Why leave the house when everything can come to you.”
“You get to get away with that for now, but soon, we are going to shop until we drop.”
I doubted it, but I would go along with the fantasy. “Boy, you have no idea what kind of challenge you’re throwing out there.”
“I’m up for it. I’ll come over as soon as I get back.”
“Don’t worry about me. Trust me, I can be alone. I’m a big girl.”
“I know you are,” he said, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
I listened to his receding footsteps. I heard the door close and knew I was alone. Finally. I let out the breath I felt like I had been holding for the last hour. I loved the guy, but I needed a few minutes. A little longer than that.
Waiting until I knew he was gone, I reached for my phone. “Call Ellis Tanner,” I spoke into the speaker.
“Hello,” I heard her say, a few moments later.
“Dr. Tanner, this is Bree Sullivan. I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk?”
“Absolutely! I’m so glad you called. What can I do for you?”
“Um, I wanted to ask you how confident you are that the surgery will be a success.”
“I’m confident it will work, but I can’t promise you that. I can’t make any promises, but I am confident. The majority of the cases have been a su
ccess.”
I hated words like majority and probably and usually. “And you will be doing the actual surgery.”
“It will be myself and my colleague,” she answered.
“I cut my foot the other day and have a few stitches, is that going to be a problem?”
“Oh goodness, I’m sorry. Are you taking antibiotics?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“This surgery we are talking about, it isn’t the kind of surgery that involves cutting into your body. Stitches in your foot are not going to be an issue. I think we’ll want to wait a couple days and make sure there are no signs of infection, then we can talk again.”
“Because you’ll be cutting into my eyes,” I mumbled, the thought of my eye being cut was freaking me out.
“You can opt to be semi-conscious for the procedure if you want,” she suggested.
“Hell no! There is no way I can be awake for that.”
Her soft laughter was just what I needed to hear. “I agree with you there. I couldn’t do it either. No way. No thanks.”
I smiled. She finally sounded a little more human. She had been so robotic it made me a little uncomfortable. “Good to know.”
“How are you doing emotionally?” she questioned.
“What do you mean?”
“I know you were experiencing panic attacks and I could see the signs of depression when we visited. I don’t want to do anything you are not completely comfortable with. Your recovery is going to be dependent on you. You can make things go fast or struggle every step of the way.”
“As in?” I asked feeling a little irritated.
“I don’t want to rush this,” she said. “Patients that had the surgery almost immediately following their accidents had the same results as those that had their surgeries months post-trauma. The recovery isn’t immediate. I don’t want you going into this expecting to wake up from surgery with your eyesight completely restored.”
I gulped, knowing what she was saying but still being terrified. “You won’t know if it worked for weeks?” I asked.
She was quiet for a few seconds. “It can take months. This is the part where you need to be in the right headspace. This is where you are going to have to be prepared for bad days. Really hard days. You need a strong support team. I know Luke will be that for you. Are you truly ready to do this? Are you committed to this one-hundred percent?”
