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Bree
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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?”
“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.
