“If Andrew is going to find someone, then he needs to find someone nice,” Nick said. “Someone who cares for him. Someone… I don’t know, selfless and giving or something. Someone who will put him first.”
I paid for the groceries and picked up my bags. Nick stepped forward to take some of them—so he wasn’t completely without manners—but I snatched them out of his hands and walked away.
I was stung. No, more than that—I was hurt. I wasn’t selfless and giving? I wasn’t nice?
And in the back of my mind was a little voice: He’s right. Andrew deserves someone better than you.
“Okay,” Nick said as he followed me across the hot parking lot. “I shouldn’t have shit on your choice of job.”
“Fuck you,” I said without looking back at him. “Some of us have to make a living, and we do it however we can.”
“Fine. You’re right. I know I can be an asshole. Believe it or not, I’m the nice brother.”
“I can’t believe someone actually married you.”
“Neither can I.”
That was kind of funny, but I was still mad. I beeped open my car and opened the hatchback, shoving grocery bags in. “Andrew told me about the suicide attempts,” I said.
“Jesus Christ. He did?”
“Yes.” In a way I could see why Nick was acting like a flu virus. He’d been with Andrew through all of the worst times and nearly lost him. If it were me who worried about Andrew day and night and some bra-model hussy came along, waving her boobs at him, I’d scratch her eyes out and I wouldn’t think twice.
“He never talks to anyone about that,” Nick said.
“I know. That’s because he never talks to people. Which isn’t exactly good for him, by the way.”
“I know.” Nick ran a hand through his hair. It was nice hair; it was a nice hand. Nick’s wife probably had to wipe up her drool every time she looked at him, even though he was a jerk. “I’m trying to get him to come with me to the comics convention in Detroit, but he refuses to go.”
I tossed in the last bag of groceries and looked at him. It was my turn to be surprised. “He didn’t tell me about that.”
“That’s because he’s being his dumbass self and won’t even consider it. They want us as guests on a panel and to sign comics for readers. It would be fucking amazing, but he won’t go.”
I could see that. A convention venue, crowds, a hotel—Andrew would hate all of those things. Still, I thought it over. “He should go,” I said.
“I agree, and so do his doctor and his therapist.”
I felt my jaw drop. “You talk to his doctors?”
“What do you think?” Nick said. “We’ve been crossing paths for seven years. His physiotherapist and his wellness therapist, too. They don’t tell me anything confidential, but we all know each other, and we all talk. Even though he’s an asshole, he’s still everyone’s favorite patient. They’d walk over broken glass for him.”
“Really?” I said. “So I’m not the only one. I’ve had a crush on him since day one. Like, bad.”
Nick sighed. “It doesn’t matter how fucked up he is, that’s the effect Andrew has on people. I’m used to it. Everyone who gets to know him goes nuts for him. And he doesn’t even notice, which makes it worse.”
We had a moment of silent agreement, the first one we’d had since he accosted me in the store. Both of us stood there in the ugly parking lot, thinking about how one guy in a wheelchair made us both crazy in the best possible way. It was almost like Nick and I had something in common, like we could be friends.
And then he ruined it. “I have to look out for him,” Nick said. “There’s been no one else to do it since the accident. I want what’s best for him, that’s all.”
My throat closed. Because what was best for Andrew probably wasn’t me. He was right. I wasn’t nice or sweet or understanding. I didn’t know how to be with a man who had as many needs as Andrew did, the sharp and specific kind that you couldn’t guess at. Hell, I’d never even had a long-term relationship with a man who had working legs and an average IQ. I was in over my head with Andrew.
I was that raw teenage girl again, the one who wasn’t good enough. Not good enough for her parents or school or friends or boys. I wasn’t going to get accepted to nursing school—that was a pipe dream. The truth was, I was a fucked-up girl who was no one. I was hot and sexy, and that was literally all I was.
Andrew needed someone he could lean on, someone who could actually help him with his shit. He didn’t need me.
“I got it,” I said, my voice choked.
Nick’s eyes narrowed in alarm when he heard my voice. “Hey,” he said.