“Yeah, I saw you so that’s how I knew. It’s why I never called. It’s why, when my wife asked me to change my number, I did immediately without hesitation. I bloody knew you were lying. I knew it. The sad part is that I let this bullshit almost ruin my chance with Jenna. Thank God she loves me because if I didn’t have her right now because of you two… I don’t know what I’d do. As far as I’m concerned the pair of you are dead to me. You’re nobodies. You don’t exist in my life anymore.”
“Son, you can’t say that.”
“I can. You slept with my ex, that’s low enough as it is, but then you had to take it one step further and encourage her to pin the pregnancy on me when you knew I was married. You knew I was having a baby and that didn’t stop you.”
I put my hand on his shoulder to calm him down. I knew this was a mistake, but he insisted. Jimmy closes his eyes, as his chest moves rapidly. I pull his mask over his head whether he wants it there or not. These people aren’t worth my husband being unable to breathe.
“Just until you’re able to catch your breath,” I whisper in his ear. He nods and keeping his eyes closed. I have to say, I’m sure the pictures his mind can conjure up right now have to be better than staring at his father and ex-girlfriend.
“I love you,” I say, reassuring him that I’m here and not going anywhere. It doesn’t matter how screwed up this situation is. I have my own skeletons that he’s overlooking. I’m in this for life.
Jimmy pulls his mask down and looks in the direction of James. “I’m disgusted that I have the same name as you.” Jimmy covers his face with his hands as I lean on his shoulder. I can’t even imagine what he’s going through right now.
Jimmy looks at his dad. “You need to leave now. I’m going home today, with my wife and my friends.”
“Your home is in Los Angeles. You know you won’t be able to stay away.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Dad. You don’t have anything I need or want. Jenna has it all. She’s my home.”
“OKAY, Jimmy, just one minute left.” Xander is standing behind me ready to catch me if I trip or lose my footing. I’ve never been a fan of running and running on this bloody treadmill makes me hate it even more, but it’s working, this physical therapy bollocks, so I’m trying my hardest not to complain.
We — I say we because Jenna hasn’t left my side — have been home for a month. Jenna’s in her last few weeks of pregnancy and I’m determined I’m going to be in the delivery room with her and without my need for oxygen. For the majority of the time, I can walk around the house without any complications. At night, I’m hooked up to a machine and I fucking despise it. Right now, I can’t be the husband that I want or need to be and it makes me feel like I’m less than adequate.
I look at the display on the treadmill and watch the seconds tick down. My lungs are burning, but thankfully I’m not gasping for air like I was when I first started this regimen. When I started, I didn’t last thirty seconds without Xander having to hold me up so he could slip my oxygen mask over my face. If I ever felt emasculated, it was in that moment. I’m just thankful that no one saw me but him. He works with complete professionalism and he didn’t molly-coddle me. He put me straight back on the treadmill and told me to start again. Because of Xander, I’ll be stronger and healthier when Little One arrives.
The red lights flash and indicate that my training is done. I go from a steady jog to a brisk walk to cool down and decrease my heart rate. My hands find the railings as my lungs start to protest at the amount of work they’re doing. I can see Xander as he moves behind me, waiting. The mirror that I’m staring at tells me everything I need to know: he’s waiting for me to collapse, but I’m not going to do it, not this time.
“How are you feeling?”
“On top of the world,” I lie. I’m okay, but not great and haven’t been since the shooting. “I’m getting better.” Not a lie, but not exactly the truth either. Yes, I feel better, but this is a painstakingly slow process. I want results instantly, like that miracle diet that you hear about on the radio. Instant results. If you starve yourself to death, that is.
I’m running myself to death and as much as I’d like to give up and wallow in a self-imposed pity party, I won’t. It’s not fair on Jenna to have half a husband just because her ex went psycho and tried to kill me. She was already dealt a shitty hand with him. I refuse to let it happen again with me. I’ll be whole again before Little One arrives if it kills me. And I will make my wife feel good again.
“You’re doing well, Jimmy.”
“Thanks,” I say as I step off the treadmill. My legs don’t protest as much as they did when I started and that’s a good thing. My lungs do enough complaining for the rest of my body. They scream for air and instead of giving in, I go through the breathing exercises that I learned with Jenna at her Lamaze classes.
“Do you have your breathing under control?” Xander asks.
I nod and inhale my next breath before exhaling and relaxing. Who knew her antenatal classes would help me like this? I never would have believed it and I’ve definitely kept that information to myself. There’s no way I’d share my knowledge with Liam or Harrison. Xander knows though, and I can trust him not to say anything to them.
Xander has quickly become part of the band and integrated well. We’ve taken to him too. At first I didn’t want to trust him, but he’s given me no reason not to. He’s honest and very upfront about his life. He recently graduated from university and took the first job he was offered which happened to be in Beaumont. Sadly for the rehab facility, Liam came along and hired him full-time to keep us all in shape. It might not be Xander’s dream job, but he’s being paid well and he gets to travel.
“What time’s your appointment?” he asks as he checks my pulse.
“In an hour,” I answer. I’m surprised my voice isn’t raspy from the extensive breathing. Jenna’s commented many times about my raspy voice, but other than whispering dirty words into her ear, I haven’t been able to take advantage of it to its full extent. Another kill-joy if you ask me.
“I think the outcome will be positive. I’ll send my report over after you leave so your doctor can see your latest results.”
“Thank you.”
“What are you hoping to achieve with this visit?”
“Sex,” I blurt out.
Xander’s mouth drops open as he tries to compose himself and not to have a reaction at
my verbal diarrhea. I realise my mistake by the sheer look of horror spreading across his face.