There’s a dull ache in the center of my chest, and I think it’s my heart constricting too tightly in response to Dax’s pain and worry. No one should have to feel like that.
I take a step backward, then another, not really wanting to hear more.
“When I took Regan in and got her to marry me, I felt like a fucking hero for helping her out. Got her insurance for a lifesaving drug. It was awesome. But I didn’t know then what I know now. That her life is still in danger. That this is very fucking real, and I wasn’t prepared for how terrifying it would be.”
I can’t take another moment of listening to this. Hearing Dax and his regrets for what I’ve brought to his life… It hurts to know I’ve hurt him.
I start down the stairs again, this time stomping hard enough they hear me coming. The conversation goes silent in the kitchen. I know I can’t face them, because they’ll read it on my face. They’ll see the guilt I’m now bearing.
So rather than turn their way, I head straight for the door. I strive for overly bright but incredibly rushed as I call out over my shoulder. “I’m running so late. Willow… I’ll try to be back before you leave.”
I dare not even glance behind me. After I open the door, I jet out onto the porch, only to realize once the door shuts behind me that my car is in the garage and I’ve gone out the wrong way.
Fuck.
What a moron.
I open the door and walk back in, having no choice but to look at them as they have clear line of vision from the kitchen. They haven’t budged an inch, but merely stare at me in surprise.
“Spazzed out for a moment,” I say with a sheepish grin as I nod toward the mudroom off the kitchen that leads into the garage. “Forgot my car was in there. Guess I’m just overly excited about the new job.”
Willow moves first by standing from her chair, and I’m terrified she knows I overheard them. I feel like I’m walking the plank as I head toward the kitchen, but she merely hurries over to give me a hard hug.
“Just in case you can’t get out in time before I leave for the airport,” she tells me, squeezing extra tight. “Promise we’ll text every day, okay?”
“Promise,” I whisper as I squeeze my eyes tightly shut so I don’t cry.
We break apart, and I shoot a glance at Dax, who is still sitting at the table with a slight smile on his face, as if my silly escapade out the front door amused him.
Or maybe it’s trying to cover the awkwardness of me having heard what he said. Maybe he knows I heard him say he pretty much detests the situation we’re in.
Stop it, Regan.
Stop dramatizing. Dax is merely talking about his frustrations. He doesn’t detest you. He cares for you. Well, for most of you. He hates the part that’s sick—
“I’ve got to get going,” I blurt out, mainly to stop my rampant thoughts before I crumble into a million pieces.
“Bye,” Willow chirps before she snags one more hug, her eyes a little moist.
“Bye, babe,” Dax says. This time, his smile is warm and fond, and he actually looks like he’ll miss me for the next few hours.
I try to memorize his face right now, as it almost dulls the pain of what I just listened to. He actually looks like he might love me right this moment, but I know my doubts will creep back up the minute I walk out of here.
CHAPTER 30
Dax
I watch Regan leave, a funny feeling welling inside of me. Willow sits back down at the kitchen table.
“Did she seem all right to you?” I ask, staring at the closed door to the garage. I can hear the door lifting and then Regan’s car start.
“For God’s sake, Dax,” Willow snaps. “She’s good. Stop worrying.”
“No,” I say with a firm shake of my head as I give her my regard. “I mean… did she seem weird?”
“Weird how?” she inquires.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“I think you’re just overwhelmed, and you need to get things sorted out. So let’s get that shit done so I can leave for Kosovo and not worry about you two numb nuts flaking out on each other.”
“Then please figure out how to reduce my anxiety and stress about Regan,” I demand with a healthy level of sarcasm. “I mean… what the fuck do I do about away games? I can’t be here with her all the time to watch her.”
“Neither could Lance,” Willow points out. “He lived in New York while she lived in California after she was diagnosed. He figured out a way to live with the fear and anxiety.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?” I snap. “The fucker never shared Regan’s illness with me. Kept that all to himself and died with whatever pearls of wisdom he might have had for his best friend.”
“Bitter much?” Good thing she’s a girl, or else I’d be tempted to knock that smirk off her face. Downside to growing up with smart-ass sisters.
“I’m not bitter,” I insist. “But it does make me wonder how he did it.”
Willow’s tone gentles. “He did it one day at a time. He figured it out through trial and error, I’m sure. He got more confident as he learned about her disease, and I’m sure even more confident once she started the new drug therapy. One thing I can tell you, it was not an overnight process. You’re just in the beginning stages of this, Dax. If you really care for Regan and want her to be a part of your life, you’re going to need to be prepared because it’s going to be hard.”
I just stare at my sister, because right now, I might be overwhelmed with respect for her. That might be the soundest advice I’d ever received in my entire life, and I’ve been handed some good stuff over the years from my parents and friends.
“Dax,” Willow says as she reaches out and grabs my hand for a squeeze. “You have a choice to make. Either you grab what might be only thirty minutes of wonderful and hang on tight for the ride, or you slug through a lifetime of nothing special.”
“Jesus,” I murmur in awe. “That’s really good. Where do you come up with this shit? You should write a self-help book or something.”
Willow snorts, pulling her hand away from me. “Most of that’s just common sense, although that wonderful versus nothing special analogy is from Steel Magnolias.”
“Steel Magnolias?” I ask, moving from clarity to confusion quickly.
My sister rolls her eyes, as if she can’t believe I don’t know what it is. “It’s a movie. Like the best movie ever.”
“Who’s in it?”
“Sally Fields, Julia Roberts, and Shirley MacClaine,” she says, as if this will make me decide I have to drop everything in my life to watch it right now.
“Are there aliens in it?” I ask.
“No.”
“Big battle scenes?”
“No.”
“Sports?”
“No.”
“Then why the fuck would I know what it is?” I growl.
“Because it’s so iconic. I mean… everyone knows that movie.”
“I doubt everyone. Bet none of my teammates know what it is.”
“Bet the married ones do,” she counters. “Or the ones with serious girlfriends. In fact, I bet Erik, Bishop, and Legend do.”
“No way.”
“Twenty dollars per guy,” Willow says with a flash of challenge in her eyes. “Text them right now and simply ask if they know what Steel Magnolias is.”
“You’re on,” I reply as I whip my phone out. I shoot a group text off to the fellas. Within moments, my phone is dinging with their responses.
Looking at my screen in disbelief, I lean on one hip to pull my wallet out of my back pocket. I pull out three twenty-dollar bills, then push them across the table to my sister. I also make a mental note to see if Regan wants to watch the movie with me sometime.
“Thank you,” Willow chirps as she waves the money at me.
Sighing, I push up from the chair, taking my empty coffee cup to the sink. I place it in there on top of Regan’s dirty dishes, thinking I should clean the kitch
en, but Regan always insists on doing it as her part in contributing to the household. She said she’s feeling fine, so I need to let her do things to make her feel accomplished.
I need to let Regan be strong. To do that, I have to be strong with her. I have to help her believe she can beat this disease.
My eyes go to Willow, and I decide to release something out into the universe I’ve been holding in close. “Even though this shit with Regan is hard and scary, it’s still the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
Willow blinks at me in surprise. She can hear my tone and the reverence within it for my wife. I lay it all out to her. “Better than hockey, Will. Despite everything with Regan’s illness and the worry that comes with it, she’s still the surest thing in my life. Nothing has ever felt better or more right to me.”
“Wow,” Willow murmurs, my admission hitting her hard.
“So yeah… I’ll get my head out of my ass because when it boils right down to it, my life has turned out more amazing than I ever thought it would be once Regan stepped back into it.”
“Holy shit,” my sister drawls in amazement. “You love her.”
“Fuck yes, I do.” I think it became very real when I got the call from Willow that Regan was on the way to the hospital and I realized my entire happiness was wrapped up in one woman.
“Have you told her?” she asks.
“No,” I reply with a healthy dose of shame about that oversight. “I’ve been a little wrapped up in my head, trying to come to terms with everything, that I think that got lost.”
“If you love her, she’s the most important thing to you. It’s only natural your worry is going to sort of take over things. But if you want some advice, you should tell her sooner rather than later.”
“I will. Before I leave tomorrow, she won’t have a doubt as to how I feel. If I’m lucky, I’ll hear it back from her.”
Willow’s smile is secretive but knowing. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll hear exactly what you want.”
Yeah… she knows something, but what I cannot say. I should press her for the details but really, I’d rather wait to hear it directly from Regan’s lips.
Still, I can’t help but ask, “You really think so?”
“I do,” she replies simply with no elaboration, and I’m okay with that.
But she does spur an idea.
A really great fucking idea as a matter of fact.
“I need to run an errand, and I need you to go with me,” I say. “Do you mind?”
She gives me an exuberant smile. “As long as I make my flight, I’m good.”
CHAPTER 31
Regan
I drive without thought through the neighborhood I live in with Dax. It’s all upscale townhomes with a communal pool and gym, and it’s gated for security. It’s amazing how quickly I have come to think of this as home. I left my new job—which I can tell I will adore—and stopped by the drugstore for a bottle of pain reliever for Dax. But despite having to keep present and alert while I filled out forms and shadowed another nurse this morning, my mind was actually racing with a million different things.
First… how do I even take what I heard between Dax and Willow this morning? I heard probably less than fifteen seconds of a conversation, but I was making my own conclusions. I’m just not sure which are the correct ones. Was he making a plea for help, venting normal frustrations, or does he have a desire to cut me loose?
And let’s say he’s merely frustrated… I should probably go ahead and break things off with him. Make things easier on him. I don’t ever want him to be unhappy because of me.
Things just got too complicated once we introduced intimacy into our relationship. It brought a whole new level of care that made it inherently more difficult for him to deal with my issues.
But how would I even break things off with him?
I could move back to California. Put distance between us. But I just started a new job. It would be highly unprofessional to quit before I even really got going. Besides, I can’t afford to move.
Could I even think about staying here? I could move back into the guest room. Would Dax even go for that? Would he be grateful for the suggestion?
I’m not sure how I could continue to live in the same house with him, knowing what I had and watching him go back to his normal life without me. Sure, we would maintain our friendship. It’s lifelong. That’s a given. But it would be torture to stay here and watch him move on without me. Given my money situation, though, that’s the most reasonable thing for me to do. I can’t afford to do anything but stay.
The thought crosses my mind to ask Dax for a loan. Enough to get me back to California and help me get back on my feet. We could stay married, so I could keep the health insurance until I didn’t need it. That would definitely work, but the thought of it is frightening. I have come to depend heavily on Dax just for moral support. Just having a “family” member who I can talk to has become a lifesaver in and of itself.
This is how my thoughts have been all day. I keep coming back to one thing, though. It’s clear I should break things off. The thought of Dax being in any way, shape, or form unhappy kills me. The easy thing would be to stay here but if I really buckle down, I can talk myself into leaving. I lived far apart from Lance for years, and even a year on my own after I got sick. I don’t want to, but I can do it on my own.
The real question is how will Dax react to whatever I decide to do?
He would be too gallant to let me go without a fight. A strong argument at the least. Even if it’s the best thing for his happiness, he is going to feel too much loyalty and obligation to me just to let me walk out the door.
Of course, I could just pack up and leave. Not tell him. It’s a completely shitty thing to do even if it’s what’s best for him. He would be so upset, though. He would follow me to California, of that I have no doubt. Maybe not to drag me back, but to at least let me know what a shitty thing it was that I did to him.
There’s no easy answer. I sigh as our townhome comes into view. I’m stunned when I see Dax’s car sitting out on the curb. He always takes one of the parallel spots there to leave the single-car garage in the front open for me.
As I’m pulling into the driveway, I glance down at the clock on my dashboard. Twelve fifteen. He should be long gone by now as the team skate was supposed to be at noon, followed by a lunch.
I open the garage door, then pull my car in slowly. Turning it off, I sit there in silence and wonder what in the hell he is doing here.
I may have had a million questions before pulling up, but I didn’t have a single answer. What I did have, though, was a little time on my side. I’d thought I had hours before I would see Dax again—which would technically be after the game tonight—to decide what to do. I am not prepared to walk in there right now and confront this issue with him.
But maybe he’s not even in there. Maybe he got a ride with someone else.
A wave of relief rushes through me as I realize it’s the most logical explanation. Bishop probably came by to pick Dax up. Hell, maybe it was even Tacker. While it doesn’t appear he’s any more socially engaging with the team as a whole, he has opened up to Dax at the team practices this past week. If by opening up, complaining about his new therapist he has to see counts. So maybe he grabbed an Uber, came by to get Dax, and they rode to the arena together.
Sounds a little foolish, but not implausible.
Yeah, either Bishop or Tacker or hell, even Legend or Erik came by and gave Dax a ride to the arena for some reason. No way he is in that house because there is no way he would miss a mandatory team event.
I feel much better as I exit my car after grabbing my purse and the pharmacy bag. Letting my mind roam ahead to what’s in the refrigerator that I can make for lunch, I start for the house as my appetite is back in full force following my brief illness.
We don’t lock the door leading from the garage into the mudroom, so I turn the knob and push it open. I can see into the kitchen—
the portion that contains the table at the breakfast nook and part of the small island.
Brows knitting in confusion, I creep slowly through the mudroom, more of the kitchen coming into view. There are lit candles on the table. It’s formally set with plates, silverware, and linen napkins.
Linen napkins? What the hell?
I smell something in the air. Italian maybe? Red sauce for sure.
My purse slides from my shoulder, and I drop the pharmacy bag on the small counter to my left as soon as I enter the kitchen.
Dax waits for me there.
He looks nervous. Shoulders tight, legs locked, and face pinched.
“Have I interrupted something?” I ask slowly, wondering why in the world he thought it was a good idea to have a romantic dinner with someone knowing I’d be coming home.
Dax’s own brow furrows in confusion. “Um… no. I thought we’d have lunch together since I’m leaving tomorrow for almost a week and we haven’t had any time alone with Willow visiting.”
Okay… that just adds a million more questions to the already-long list I’d made under the theory Dax is unhappy with our situation and needs to be cut free.
He’s certainly not making it easy.
My eyes roam over the romantic table setting before returning to him. “But… you should be at the team skate right now.”
“I got a pass,” he replies, taking two steps toward me. His hand goes to my elbow, and he leads me over to one of the chairs. “I got some lasagna from Bella Italia. I know it’s your favorite.”
Yes, it is. In the short few weeks I’ve been here, I’ve already found a favorite Italian place. I am touched by his thoughtfulness in—
“No, wait a minute,” I say as I come out of the haze of being wooed. I pull my arm away to glare at him. “You can’t just get a ‘pass’. You have obligations. It’s mandatory you be at the arena. What the hell is going on?”
Dax Page 21
