Dax (Arizona Vengeance 4)

But because I don’t want to burden others.

So I’m going to do the same thing right now with Dax. I’m going to continue to accept his gracious help, I’m going to find a job, and then I’m going to start school in the fall. Once I complete my masters, I’m going to move back to California. I vow to myself I’m not going to regret a single thing I have been through.

Because when it boils down to it, it doesn’t seem like Dax is any different than Paul. I am just too much of a complicated mess for most people. Which means I need to continue to learn how to do things on my own without relying on anyone else.

I take another deep breath. The air flows into my lungs smoothly and comes out just the same. Feeling somewhat fortified and a whole lot determined, I push myself off the floor. Over the next forty-five minutes, I take a shower. To make myself feel better, I even do my hair and makeup. By the time I make it into the kitchen, I’m relieved to see Dax has already left for the gym. He left me a note on the kitchen counter that said he would be back later in the afternoon and would be glad to take me out to dinner. I make a mental note not to be here this afternoon when he comes back. Maybe I’ll go out and see a movie. Treat myself to a nice dinner and some ice cream after.

I fix breakfast—granola, yogurt, and a fresh banana—and settle in at my laptop to continue my job search. It can be somewhat difficult to find work since I can only commit part-time hours and have no intention of staying permanently. I know there are many people who would never reveal those intentions to a prospective employer, but I don’t feel that is fair. So I’ve been upfront to every place I’ve applied. In the handful of interviews I’ve done over the phone, I was transparent in my future plans about moving back to California and my disease. I need to make sure that whoever hires me does so with the knowledge I come with baggage.

My phone rings. I glance at my phone, recognizing the familiar phone number. The name brings a smile to my face. Dr. Timothy Marino.

I don’t know if it’s actually Dr. Marino or his nurse, but I answer with a cheery smile on my face that comes naturally because of who is on the other end. “Hello.”

“Hey, Regan. It’s Mary.”

My smile gets bigger. While I adore and have the utmost respect for Dr. Marino, his nurse has become a little bit like a sort of mom to me over the past year since I’ve become a patient.

When I was first diagnosed with PNH, there was great relief in knowing the name to my problem. But because the disease is so rare, there are few doctors who actually have enough education and training to be able to properly treat it. Lance immediately stepped in and started using his pull as a professional hockey player. In the end, we ultimately decided to have my treatment handled by Dr. Marino at Duke University Medical Center in Durham, North Carolina.

He was highly recommended. When we first contacted him by phone, he didn’t talk down to us or over our heads. There was just a natural chemistry, and Lance and I flew to Durham to meet him.

It wasn’t a hardship living in California and having my doctor clear across the country. I only had to see him twice a year. My lab work could be handled by my primary care doctor in California. My treatments could also be completed in California. Because of the distance between us, Dr. Marino and his nurse Mary did a lot of communicating with me via phone and FaceTime. Perhaps because of the distance, they put in extra effort, time, and care with me. Over the last year, we’ve grown remarkably close. Dr. Marino even came to Lance’s funeral in New York, which is a testament to that fact.

“So I heard through the grapevine you’ve moved from Encinitas to Phoenix,” Mary drawls.

I laugh, having expected this call eventually. The first person I had to contact with my move was my case manager with the pharmaceutical company that administers the Salvistis. They would have had to get a new referral from Dr. Marino, which they would submit to my insurance company. With the new insurance I was on, I hoped things would happen quickly this week.

“I just needed a break after the funeral,” I explain, giving the story Dax and I agreed on. “I’m actually staying with Lance’s best friend, Dax.”

“Is he a hockey player?” she teases.

“Yes, he is,” I return with a giggle.

“He’s probably a little too young for me,” Mary sniffs, which I don’t think is the case. She’s only thirty-five and incredibly pretty. But she has two teenage daughters. For some reason, she thinks that makes herself undatable.