His words were a controlled and quiet scream, yet instead of feeling sorry for him, anger rose within her. "Stop. I don't want to hear it. I get to decide what I want to do, and I want to stay with you. Better or worse, got it?"
She nearly lost her composure as he looked up at her with pain-filled eyes. Anguish crumbled his semblance of control. "But this is so much worse than 'worse.' This . . . this isn't living with better or worse because this won't be living at all. I'm going to forget everything. Everyone. Anything I've ever loved. I'm the last of my family. Once I'm gone, there will be nothing left except a tragic story of a successful man who lost it all because his brain became swiss cheese."
"I'm your family." Her jaw was set as she let her statement sink in. Hoping and praying Dash would understand what she was about to say, she prepared her words so the meaning would cut through his destructive thoughts. "I want you to listen to me." She gently lifted his chin, assuring he was looking into her eyes. Though her heart twisted painfully in her chest, she had to make him understand her marriage to him was not an opportunity but a commitment. "I married you, and there are a million reasons why, but the most important one is because I love you. Not your money. Not your fame. Not because you're good looking and make my panties melt." The last comment brought such a brief, but happy, smile to his lips that her heart buckled. "The minute I said 'I do' I’d already committed my heart to you for the rest of my life, and yours. No matter what you say, I'm not leaving you. I'm staying."
As Dash studied her face, her love for him filtered through every cell. She was confident he could feel it too. It flowed through her blood. Gave her joy. Skylar was determined that no matter who he saw her as when he looked at her, he would always find in her eyes the thing that mattered most. Love.
Chapter 36
Skylar paused, taking a deep breath. It had taken her several weeks to put her plan into motion, but, eventually, everything had fallen into place.
With Dash's blessing, she’d accomplished all she’d set out to do. Her first task had been to get Dash home from the hospital and make him comfortable. As the grim prognosis settled into their bones, they were determined to put as many of their plans as possible on the fast track. Dash's condition had deteriorated rapidly since the London incident. His tremors had increased as had his vacant periods. He also tired more easily. With the assistance of his doctors, Skylar had been able to secure competent medical professionals to assist them in their everyday lives.
He wanted a home. Not his. Not hers. Theirs. They picked their house from an internet ad. She secured packers and movers and had Vince supervise the transition. It amazed her what one could do if they had enough money. The only things it couldn't buy was health and more time.
Though it didn't seem so crucial until his diagnosis, she and Dash had added each other to all their accounts. With one phone call, Dash's attorney had added her name to titles of his possession and had drawn up a will for each of them. It seemed like overkill, but Dash had insisted. He had no living family—until now—and was a little OCD about tying up loose ends.
On the day they’d received his diagnosis, when she’d left Dash to find the doctor, Dash had phoned his lawyer. He’d granted her power of attorney as well as made her his legal guardian, should the need arise. She’d been too busy seeing to the details of their living arrangements and didn't learn of the changes until she had to sign the documents. Her primary concern was Dash and his care. Her secondary was hiding her heartbreak.
Their new home was on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. The sparkling water of the Chesapeake Bay was the view from one side of the house, while the other greeted them with a tree-lined entrance and English gardens. A large fountain sat in the middle of a circular driveway, obstructing any visitor's view of their beautiful home until they’d nearly reached the front door. She’d never dreamed she’d share a home like this with her husband. For that matter, she never imagined she'd have a husband. It certainly hadn’t been on her to-do list, but she’d always be thankful for the chance meeting that had turned into a love story. For however long they had together, it would be their home.
“Good morning.”
She smiled as she heard Dash approach her on the patio. She was confident his nurse was somewhere close by. Though he’d insisted he didn't need one, Skylar had assured him her time was better spent elsewhere. It was best that someone else monitor his medications and his condition. None of this was what they saw for their future together, and she preferred to spend her time in the way most newlyweds did, by holding his hand and having conversations about mindless drivel. She wanted those things to be her memories when Dash was no longer able to communicate, not medicine dosing.
Sky patiently waited until he took a seat beside her. When she’d left him that morning, he’d been sleeping. She’d alerted the nurse she’d be outside with her morning coffee, and the woman had busied herself in a nearby office until he woke. It wasn't so much that she worried he wasn't physically capable of maneuvering by himself, but he’d had a few periods where he hadn’t known where he was. Skylar and his nurse thought it best that he had someone with him, without it feeling overbearing. There were four of them in the house at all times: her, Dash, a nurse, and a bodyguard. Since Caton had proven to be such an asset in London, she’d offered him the job, and he’d accepted.
Sky poured some fresh black coffee for Dash from the carafe she'd brought outside. The heady aroma wafted as it hit the porcelain cup. She looked over at him, hoping her warm smile and some relaxed conversation would be enough to break away from the cloud that always hovered above them.
"Bare feet, huh?"
"You know me, babe. Barefoot's how I roll."
He chuckled. She loved the sound and would take whatever humor she could muster from him these days. "Where'd you learn that? MTV?"
"I get around." Her eyes lit up to see him wearing a happy expression. As the mental vacancy spells had increased, each day became more unpredictable. She kept her sanity by focusing on the moment.
"You're beautiful, you know that? I'm a lucky man."
She swallowed. Reaching across the small table separating their chairs, she briefly took Dash's hand. He would need both to steady the cup. There were times when seeing and feeling the spasms when she held his hand pained her heart. But she held tightly to him as much and as often as she could. In truth, she never wanted to let go. It was a strange sort of existence, knowing that time was limited. Every touch, every kiss, every laugh—was committed to memory. She not only knew the end was coming, she knew that it was closing in.
"I've been thinking."
"Oh, no. Now we're in trouble." She peered over the top of her cup as she took a sip of her coffee. Today the gold flecks hidden within his brown eyes sparkled with delight. He tugged at her hand.
"Are you going to let me speak?" His eyes fixed on hers, an amused smile playing at his lips.
"Yes. Please continue." She wore a mischievous grin, causing a satisfied expression to roll over his handsome face.
"I want to start a foundation. A way for kids to be able to study music or learn to make musical instruments. Something to pay it forward for what music has given to me. What do you think?"
He stared at her, trying to read the answer in her eyes. Leave it to Dash to dream up such an undertaking. Although his intent was noble, he didn't have the strength to carry out what starting a foundation would require.
"I think it's a beautiful idea, but—"
"I know, I know. It's huge," he interjected. "And whether you say the words, I know you think it's too much for me. So, I guess what I'm really asking is if you’ll do it for me after I'm gone." His eyes never left hers. She could tell he read every emotion she tried to hide. "Let's face it, Sky, I'll probably be dead before the year is through. I’d like to leave behind something more than a widow. I would like my life to have had a purpose. Before you, music was my love. When I'm gone, I want both you and the music to be cared for." Resignation filled
his tone.
Sky looked away, fearful he might see the emotions that threatened to burst through the walls of her resistance, she chose to look out at the water instead of picturing Dash’s funeral. "Can we talk about something else, please? I feel like I should have a drink in my hand for this conversation."
The corners of her mouth turned down, the thought of Dash's death souring her stomach. Though she wasn't denying the truth of the inevitable, she simply wanted to enjoy a beautiful morning on the Bay without death crashing the party. The serenity of the scene quelled the emotional storm within. Before long, mornings like these would only be a memory. It would be up to her to refresh Dash's recollections when they started to fade, reminding him of what beauty was found in colors, sounds, and fragrances.
Guilt washed over her. She had no right to be selfish or hesitant about his request. Dash was trying to do something good. She wiped away an errant tear and turned back to him.
"Sorry. I just don't want to talk about this stuff today." She whispered the words as she looked deeply into his eyes. A familiar tug pulled at her heart. That same unique pull she had when she’d first gazed into his eyes. She had to turn away from him before she crumbled completely. Regardless of how long they had together, loving Dash added sweetness to her life. Though they had experienced only a small bite of living together, it was an addictive taste that, each day, left her begging for more.
"Don't be. I've already put too much on you." Remorse clouded his expression.
When she turned toward him, he was looking away, defeat weighing him down as he slumped in his seat. She sat her cup on the table and pushed out of her chair. She went to her husband, taking a place on his lap. Snaking her arms under his, she pulled her legs up and tucked her body into his.
"I'm selfish, I know. I don’t want to think about after you’re gone, but I know we have to talk about it while we can.” She choked out the words on a sob, but quickly snapped it back. All she could manage was a whisper. “I hate this.”
Chapter 37
The comment was so quiet Dash almost didn't hear it. Emotion welled up inside of him. Until this moment, he’d been more concerned for her than for himself.
Fury rose up within him, and, for the first time, he allowed himself to fully feel the injustice of their situation. He would have raged if he were alone. If the beast that was bleeding his mind dry affected only him, he would have torn this place apart. He would have busted every stick of furniture and broken every piece of glass if for nothing else than to release the storm within him and purge himself of his hateful feelings.
But he couldn’t.
He’d vowed to the woman beside him that he’d love, cherish, and protect her. And the horror of it was that he would fail miserably on the last one. He was helpless in so many ways, but the one that mattered the most was his inability to shield his wife from the thief that was coming. The bastard disease would eventually take him and tear her apart. The irony of it all was that he had an unfair advantage. He would be blissfully ignorant of the pain he was causing her, while she stood helplessly beside him.
He tightened an arm around her, suddenly feeling exhausted. Closing his eyes so he couldn’t see her pain, he felt himself drifting away.
"Remember what I told you, Sky. Our life will never be measured in years, but in moments."
Chapter 38
"He looks good." Vince poked his head into Skylar's office, his eyes traveling around the room. Satisfied with the job he'd done to help make Dash and Sky’s home the way she liked it, he adopted a pleasant expression. They’d been friends for so long that he knew her taste well. "The house looks like it suits you. Dash told me that if you’re happy, he’s happy."
"Packers and movers, as you well know. Thank you for all of your help with the move. It's amazing how quickly things can get done—for a price, of course. We wouldn't be here without you." She smiled at the thought as Vince seated himself by the desk.
Vince acknowledged her comment with a smile and a nod, then jutted his chin toward the laptop on her desk. "New storyline, I hope."
She shook her head. "Sorry, but no. Research." She lowered the top, closing down the screen. Sitting back, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Dash wants to start a foundation. I was hunting and pecking through the topic on Google."
"He's a good man, Sky. I just left him with the nurse. We had a good talk. He was completely cognizant for a while—and then he wasn't."
Skylar felt a tug on her heart. The first part of Vince’s comment was thoughtful and true. The second part reminded her of how much more of Dash she was losing every day. "He is that." She stood. "Let's get something to drink."
She pulled the office door closed behind her and wrapped a loving arm around Vince's waist as he settled his hand on her opposite shoulder. As they crossed the living room, they peered out the French doors. Vince had left Dash behind on the patio with his nurse where he peacefully sat looking out at the water. His eyes were vacant.
She wondered how it was possible for her to hold both love and hate inside the same thought. There were things and people that she didn't like, but hate was such a strong word. It conjured up thoughts of murderers and abusers, yet it was a feeling with which she was becoming familiar. One minute she would be having a heart to heart talk with Dash on a topic for which they both shared a passion. And then he would disappear; another sweet element of their relationship stolen by the thieving disease. Something that had the potential to become a treasured remembrance marred or completely erased. Precious moments cut from Dash's mind with the beast’s steely knife while leaving her with the scars. Today was no different.
The visit from Vince had brightened Dash's spirits. She’d watched from the doorway as they’d talked football. She’d listened with interest, overhearing which players were their favorites and the possibility of the Baltimore Ravens going to the Super Bowl. All had been going well, then, without warning, the Dash she knew and loved vanished behind a veil of failed thoughts. The monster had once again wounded them, leaving yet another bloodstain on his memory.
Vince approached her, speaking in a gentle whisper. He kept his voice low enough that Dash wouldn't be able to hear him should he suddenly come back from the darkness. With a reassuring touch, he stroked her arm. “I’m going to be honest, in the beginning, I didn't want you to date Dash—especially not after I found out who he was. I mean, when we first met him, I thought he was a nice enough guy. Then I Googled him. I suppose I had a preconceived notion about musicians. I thought that, if you got involved with him, that he would hurt you, and I wanted to keep you safe."
Skylar frowned, her eyes now locked on Vince as an indignant expression tinted her features. "A little prejudiced about musicians, don't you think? Dash’s friends from the band have called to see how he was doing, offering us any help we need."
“I'm very protective of you. I make no apologies for that. You're a nice girl, Skylar. Organized. You live a squeaky-clean life. You have a place for everything and everything in its place. Nothing of that speaks remotely to the life of—or what I thought was the life of—a rock star. The only images in my head were of loose women, drugs, and alcohol. I couldn't picture you fitting in with any of that."
Curiosity raised her brow. "And now you've changed your mind?"
"About the supposition of that lifestyle?" He answered her question with a question. "No.” His immediate answer was emphatic but then mellowed. “I’m happy to say that Dash is the exception, as are you. Both of you are remarkable people, and I think you balance each other well. What is that they say? Opposites attract."
Skylar smiled, turning her attention back to the quiet man staring out at the Chesapeake. Being near the water seemed to soothe him. The tremors and spasms had increased in frequency and grown in severity, but reflected in his eyes was nothing but peace. She could only hope her efforts on his behalf were the reason for that. It was her greatest desire that their life together, however brief it might be, provided a swe
et flavor to his days. Hers, however, were becoming void of the flavor as time went by. Every time he slipped away, she experienced another taste of bitterness.
Sky swallowed a sob as a shudder chilled her. The man who made her want to be a better person and learn to take life less seriously sat empty and in silence. It was her prayer that somewhere in the blank space, a note or two of their life together would remain for him to hold onto.
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying in front of Vince. All of this seemed so unfair. Hour by hour, Dash's mind was being viciously picked apart by a predator. All of the brilliance locked inside him had become a feast for the scavenger that was stealing his memories away, while only leaving behind scraps of a man who hungered for a normalcy.
Several hours passed, with Vince having long gone. Though Dash had been sitting quietly, his lively conversation, combined with the physical exertion trying to control the tremors and spasms, had caused him to expend much more energy than he was used to these days. The excitement of the day had taken its toll on him. It was hard to imagine that a little more than a month ago, he was performing before stadium-sized crowds, and now one visitor exhausted him.
Sky took a seat on the patio beside her husband, taking in his physical state. His eyes were tired, the lids lazily drooping as he struggled to stay alert. Though she questioned herself about some decisions she’d made, there was now no doubt in Skylar's mind they’d made the right decision to sequester themselves. She promised Dash he wouldn't die in a hospital, and she intended to keep that promise. She tried not to let the pressure get to her. The responsibility for the quality of Dash’s life weighed heavily on petite shoulders. Coordinating every aspect of their lives by herself, while trying to spend every one of his coherent moments with him, was taxing. Physically and mentally, she was bone tired. At the moment, he looked even more exhausted than she was. His periods of not communicating were longer, and his lack of muscle control left him weak.
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