by Renee Dyer
I owe us the chance to heal. I may never be able to ask his name or be okay with her being around him, but my world is better with Brenna in it. No more thinking, just feeling. My decision is made, and I choose her. Always.
I pull back slightly, enough for her to see me smile and then bring my lips to hers. No more talk. No more apologies. Just us, feeling each other’s hearts beating. Getting back in sync with one another. This is what I need.
Without hesitation, I lay her back and she doesn’t fight me. That gleam in her eyes that makes me feel like the king of the world burns bright. This is my Brenna, and I’m going to show her I see her.
It wasn’t the easiest night of my life, but it’s the night that changed everything. The threads I was hanging onto, praying they wouldn’t snap, braided themselves together. Brenna and I worked our way back together. We were tired when Brady ran in our room, barely past six, but we were happy. He climbed into bed with us and we all snuggled, finally feeling like a family again. It was then that I really knew I made the right decision.
It hasn’t all been video games and beer happiness, there has been a setback or two, but we have worked through them. Since we made that silent pact, decided we were worth fighting for, we’ve been working together to restore every part of our relationship. I’ve been trying to step back and allow her the room she needs to regain her independence. It isn’t easy. There’s a constant worry nagging me. I’m afraid she’ll overdo it. That part of me that broke as I watched her fade away is still broken, and I don’t know that it can ever be fully healed, but I do know she needs me to be strong for her.
And I’m trying.
When she went back to work, I managed to keep my mouth shut. I have no idea how the thoughts flooding my mind didn’t gush forth. Maybe her excitement overrode my worry—at least, for that day. But seeing her come home, tired and in pain every time she works, is starting to cause me anxiety. I want her to be happy, to feel like the old her, but loving her means I’ll always want to protect her. Even from herself.
I’ve stayed quiet, but if she doesn’t start working without pain soon, I’m going to snap. I only hope it doesn’t do irreparable damage. She needs to feel like she’s pitching in and taking care of her family, and I understand that. But will she understand if I mention how hard it is for me to see her that way? This is how I know we’re still working on getting us back. I never used to hesitate in talking to her. About anything.
I hesitate a lot now.
The major disagreement we still have is over suing. I think the doctors who neglected to care for her should pay. Brenna thinks we should move on. She was honest with me, explaining she doesn’t think a court battle and rehashing everything will be good for either of us. I see her point, but it doesn’t lessen the hatred I feel toward those men.
I was raised to believe hate is a strong word and not to be used lightly, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. No one will confirm it for me, but I feel like they wouldn’t see her because she wasn’t their patient. They couldn’t be bothered. Why else wouldn’t they make an appointment for her? I couldn’t see it then, but I see it now. It causes a fury I can’t contain. Unfortunately, Brenna is the one who sees me unleash it. She stays silent when I scream about justice being served, watches when I am too angry to say a word, and offers comfort when I think I’ll explode. Still, she doesn’t want to move forward.
I don’t know how to let it go.
I’m failing her again. Not protecting her from the people who caused her harm. Doesn’t that go against the doctor’s oath—do no harm? I can’t stop these thoughts. It’s not healthy to obsess, but I can’t stop thinking about how they treated us.
About my reactions, or lack there of.
Maybe I should pay too.
Chapter Eighteen
Brenna
Summer is almost over, which sucks. I love the heat and playing in the pool with my boys. Day trips, picnics, going for ice cream…all more fun when it’s hot out. Maybe I’m overly sentimental about this summer because Nick and I are working things out. I’m still in shock that he forgave me. A few times, what happened with Hunter has come up. He’s had questions, and I answer them honestly every time. I don’t want there to be any lies between us.
Hunter called once. I was honest with him, too. I told him Nick and I are working on our relationship, and I need him not to call anymore. It hurt me to say it. I know it hurt him, too. He said he understood, but my apology felt weak. I’ve never been okay with causing others pain, but I had to. I chose Nick. I always will. Choosing him, I made the decision to do whatever I could to make him feel secure. I owed him that.
I told Nick Hunter called and what I said, refusing to keep anything hidden from him. It was weird not using Hunter’s name, but Nick has made it clear he doesn’t want to know who he is. That day he asked me to tell him about our friendship. I tried not to smile while recapping the years Hunter was in my life, but I failed. He was a major part of who I was growing up. For fourteen years, he was my best friend. When Nick asked if I ever dated him, it was easy to say no. Then he asked if I wanted to. My swallow could be heard through the room. As much as I hated the answer, I was truthful. I waited for Nick to get angry when I said I had a crush on my friend all through school. He didn’t get angry, though, not visibly, but after a few minutes, he asked if I wanted him now. I said no quickly, not needing to think about it. The only man I want is Nick.
That was the last time we talked about Hunter. I worry all the time about whether Nick is thinking about what I did. He doesn’t act like it. He said he forgave me and we would move forward.
And that’s what we’ve been doing.
I’ve continued working out and my body is getting stronger. Nick got me a gym membership as a surprise. The nights I don’t work, I go there after dinner. When I can’t go to the gym, I still walk my four miles, pushing Brady in a stroller. He and I talk about what we see, how the trees will be changing soon, and sometimes, we make the passing cars into games. We try to guess what color car will drive by next. If Brady guesses more than me, he gets ice cream when we get home. If I guess more, he gets fruit. Fortunately for his teeth, I win at least half the time.
The only issue now is my job. Nick hasn’t said he doesn’t want me working at all, but he wants me to find a different job. I agree with him. The one I have now isn’t going to be an option for me. The items are too heavy for me to scan and get into carts. I despise being in pain every time I work, but I’ll put up with it until I have something else. It may only be part-time, but it makes me feel like I’m giving back to our household. I love when I’m home with Brady, but I’m always aware of how much it costs to support a family.
I’ve tried getting Nick to see that family is worth the sacrifice. It’s the one thing we’ve come close to truly having a fight over since the night we decided not to give up on us.
“In pain again?”
Annoyance washes through me at the accusation in his tone. Yes, I’m in pain. I’m lifting more than I’m allowed to, but there’s no way to avoid that. I’m tired of telling Nick this.
“And your point is?” My exhale is loud, aggravation pouring out through the sound.
“No point. Just asking a question.”
Question my ass. The smugness on his face gives him away. He wants me to admit my job is too much. For me to say I’ll quit. He should know me better than that. I didn’t survive the last five months just to give up now—no matter how much it hurts.
“Well, to answer you, I’m fine.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, surprised by his frankness. We’ve been talking to each other more, but he’s been holding back. I guess that stops now.
“I think you heard me, Bren. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. When you walk through the door and flinch while putting your keys on the rack, I know you’re in pain. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it.”
; “No? It sure does seem like you’ve been doing just that. I’ve tried, Brenna…tried really fucking hard, but I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.”
“What are you talking about, Nick?” I snap.
“You! I’m talking about you and the fact that this job is not good for you. I can’t watch you like this anymore.”
“Are you telling me to quit my job?” His demands are ridiculous. Who the hell does he think he is?
“I’m not telling you to do anything, but we do need to talk about this.”
“I think you’ve said enough.”
I turn and walk away from him, the pain causing me to move slower than I’d like. I want to scream at my body. Tell it to stop this shit, but I know I’ve been pushing too hard. What’s happening is my own fault. I slowly make my way out of the room, hoping he’ll let me go. I’m done talking about this. There’s nothing really to say. We’re raising a child. That requires money.
“Don’t walk away from me!”
I stop, but don’t turn around. He’s angry and I worry we’ll end up fighting about Hunter. He hasn’t brought him up in a while, but the tone in his voice makes me concerned. Shoulders slumped, feeling defeated, I ask, “What do you want from me, Nick?”
“I want you healthy,” he answers, making it sound like it’s the simplest request in the world.
I laugh. I’m not sure why, but the rumbling starts out low and grows so loud, I’m afraid I’ll wake Brady. That is the most ludicrous statement I’ve ever heard.
“Healthy? I have an incurable brain condition. Yes, I’m doing pretty well right now, but I’m not one hundred percent. I never will be. If what you want is a healthy wife, then you’re married to the wrong lady.”
“Don’t turn my words against me.”
I spin and pin him with a glare. “You’re the one turning on me. I’m just trying to do what’s best for our family. I’m—”
“What’s best for our family is you being able to function, can’t you see that?”
A tear falls down his cheek and all the fight I had left, the argument I had planned, cease to exist. A deep torment reflects in his eyes. In my attempts to make sure I’m doing what I think is best, I never stop to ask. I just keep fighting to do as much as I can. His face shows a hurt I know I’ve brought on. One step…and then the next, I make my way back to him as words tumble from my lips. “What can I do to make this better for you?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, grinding his fists into his eyes.
“No, Nick. I’m sorry for arguing with you.” Tugging his shirt, I direct him toward the couch. My heart aches seeing the damage I’ve caused—that my illness has caused. He’s been suffering and I haven’t been helping him. That changes tonight. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”
Watery brown eyes stare at me. I open my arms and it takes all my strength not to break down as he rushes into them and his sobs fill the room. How did I not see he was in this kind of agony? Have I been so consumed in my recovery I thought of no one else?
“I’m so sorry, Nick,” I whisper into his hair. “I promise you’ll be okay. I’ll help you.”
His body shudders over and over, his cries loud in the stillness of the house. I feel like I should say something to comfort him, but words escape me. Instead, I keep my arms locked around him, my lips brushing gentle kisses over his head. I send a prayer to God to heal Nick. Let him find peace with what has happened to me. And I pray, too, that I never get sick again.
I’m not sure how long we stay locked together, but Nick shifts and I loosen my grip. He pulls away and I want to cry seeing his red, swollen eyes. It isn’t supposed to be this way. We decided to be happy. We chose to fight.
His voice wobbles when he says, “I need you, Bren. All of you. I know it’s selfish, but we lost weeks. We can’t get them back. I think about them all the time. I try not to, but…”
I’m unable to respond or help him finish what he’s trying to say. This beautiful man lost himself because he thought he lost me. I don’t know where to begin healing him.
“I was so scared, babe. I was worried I didn’t show you how much I love you. That my way of thinking kept me from being all you needed. Watching you, seeing you sick, was the most irrational I’ve ever been. I told you I loved you every few minutes. When you would sleep, I would sit on the floor in front of you, holding your hand. I wanted to will my strength into you.”
“Oh, Nick, you are all I need. You’re all I’ll ever need.”
“I didn’t feel that way. I’m still struggling to. I failed you and I don’t know how to get past that. And now I’m failing you again.”
“No, you’re not. Why would you say that?”
His eyes scan the room, looking everywhere but at me. “You feel like I can’t support us. It’s why you put yourself through this pain.”
“That’s what you think?” I ask on a gasp.
He nods and the shame he feels is apparent. I’m seeing so much I’ve never seen before tonight. Did I not want to? Was I scared? Am I a terrible person?
“It was never about you, Nick. I know you’d take care of us. You’re a good man. I just needed to feel like I was giving back to our family. I feel like I’m failing us if I don’t help.”
“Can’t you help without suffering like this?”
His question is reasonable, but I still feel frustrated by it. I hate that I have this reaction. He’s not asking anything awful of me. His love has him protecting me. Maybe I need to follow his example.
“Can we compromise? I’ll start looking for a new job, but until then, I’ll stay where I’m at. I need this, Nick. I need to be pitching in. I promise I’ll start job hunting tomorrow. We can even set a date. A reasonable date. If I don’t have a job by then, I’ll give my notice. But, please, don’t expect me to just quit. I can’t.” It’s the best I can do. I’d like to say I’m healed, but there are pieces of me that are still broken, too. I’m starting to wonder if those pieces will ever heal.
Before he can argue or offer a new compromise, I place my lips to his. The anguish from the night changes to passion. Nick makes love to me on the couch, giving us both a good memory to think of the next time we sit here.
Maybe the couch won’t feel haunted after this.
“Hey. What has you so deep in thought?” Nick asks, kissing my shoulder. “Your fingers are going to prune if you leave them in there too long.
I look down at the dishes I had forgotten about and smile as he continues kissing my shoulder and along the side of my neck. “Is Brady down for a nap?”
“Mm-hmm,” he purrs against my skin, sending chills everywhere. “Wanna tell me what you were thinking now?”
Laying my head back, giving him access to my throat, I lick my lips, and say, “I was remembering the last time we made love on the old couch.”
Hands come around my waist, turning me around quickly. Fire burns in his eyes. His fingers clench and unclench on my side, causing an ache to build. “Have we christened the new couch?”
I shake my head, never losing his gaze.
“Fuck the dishes.”
My laughter fills the room as he throws me over his shoulder and slaps my ass. It’s been too long since I’ve seen Nick’s playful side.
“Don’t hurt yourself carrying my fat ass,” I giggle.
It earns me another slap before he tosses me onto the couch. My head lands wrong on the couch, just slightly on the hard part of the arm, and I try to hide the pain it causes. It wasn’t too bad, but it startled me. Unfortunately, I’m not a good actress.
“Oh, fuck, babe. Are you okay? Shit, I’m a fucking idiot.” He starts pacing, his hands ripping at his hair.
“I’m alright, Nick. See?”
I start to get up, but he rushes toward me and pushes me back down. “No, don’t get up. Just stay there. I should know I can’t be rough with you. Your body can’t take that shit anymore. What the fuck was I thinking?”
“Nick, I’m alright. Please, look at me.” Whe
n he does, I smile and open my arms. “Come back to me, baby.”
He shakes his head and resumes pacing, distress in every line on his face. His body so tight, I’m afraid he’ll rip apart.
“Nicholas St. James, you get your ass over to this couch now, or I promise I will fucking tackle you. You know damn well I’ll do it.” He stops and stares at me. “Don’t test me!” I keep my arms open even though they’re starting to feel like jelly.
Tentatively, he makes his way toward me and my heart warms. He may think he’s still being reserved, but a few weeks ago, he would have ran the other way. This is progress. Nick is healing and he doesn’t even know it.
He stops in front of me, uncertainty written all over his face.
“Come here, please,” I say.
“I can’t do it, Bren.” His face is so sad. I can’t take the defeat in his eyes. I need to take that away.
“I didn’t ask you to fuck me, I asked you to come here.”
“Say what you’re thinking why don’tcha?”
“I find it suits its purpose. Now, please get your ass over here before my damn arms fall off.”
“Okay, okay, you win.” He smiles and starts to lay down into my open arms.
I pull him close to me, so close our noses touch. “Don’t ever think you can’t be the way you just were with me. I loved it. That’s us, Nick. We’re fun…and playful. We love without thinking. I don’t want to lose that.”
“But—”
“No buts. I love you. Now, kiss me like Brady is never going to wake up.”
And he does.
We lay there, making out like teenagers, giggling and professing our love. We both heal a bit more that afternoon. I’m not sure we even realize the small ways we’re changing. Sometimes you need to be reminded of who you were to get back to who you are.
