Look the Part

I sigh, leaning into the familiar curves of his body. “Can you keep a secret?”

Alex chuckles a little. He used to ask me that before feeding me some exciting tidbit of information about his next big adventure or our next big adventure. We both knew I couldn’t keep a secret.

“Yeah, I think I’m the only one of us who can keep a secret.”

This isn’t revenge, or vindictiveness, or even Karma. It’s just my inability to lie to this man. Even when I should have lied to protect myself, I didn’t—I couldn’t. I still can’t.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hold on me stiffens. “Jesus …”

“Yep.” I pull away, stand, and rinse out my mouth.

Alex lumbers to his feet behind me. I look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s still handsome, maybe even more so than when I last saw him. That blond surfer hair has always suited him. Tan skin. Deep sapphire eyes. He’s beautiful.

“The father?”

I shrug. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s code for he’s not in the picture.”

Brushing past him to the stairs, I shake my head. “No. It’s not code for anything. It’s just complicated.”

He grabs my arm.

I whip around and narrow my eyes at his hold on me. “Let go of me,” I whisper with an edge to my tone.

He releases me.

“You don’t get to touch me now. Never again.”

Alex holds up his new hands. “I couldn’t touch you before. I would have, but I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t lose all of your hands. You didn’t lose your arms, your legs, your lips … your dick. You sure as hell could have touched me had you wanted to touch me. But you didn’t want to. And that’s fine. I tried to put myself in your shoes. I tried to understand how you might feel like less of a man. But you wouldn’t even let me touch you. And the worst part? For someone without use of their hands, you sure used me like a punching bag. Jab after jab until I was knocked out on my ass in our front yard.”

He flinches. “I wasn’t in a good place then, but I’m better now. I’ve tried calling you. I thought we could talk.”

I laugh. “Good for you. I hope this ‘better place’ suits you, but we have nothing to talk about.” I turn, making my way down the stairs.

“Ellen.” Ron hugs me. “Sorry to hear you’re not feeling well.”

“Thank you.” I pull back and fight for a smile that is one hundred percent not how I feel on the inside.

Ron eyes Alex. “You two talk?”

Alex nods, giving me a concerned look. He used to tell me, “Don’t worry, Elle, I’ve got your back.”

I think he’s trying to figure out a way to have my back. He’s not the man I want having my back anymore. My gaze gets stuck on his lips, the ones I’ve kissed so many times, but now all I can think about is the venom he spewed from them. I’m the better person, like my mom was always the better person.

On good days, I convince myself that I’ve forgiven Alex, but I won’t ever forget, no matter how much I want to let every terrible moment vanish from my memory. They’re there—painfully branded—a permanent mark.

“Ginger ale?” My grandma hands me a small glass.

“Thank you.” I take it and sit in the chair next to my dad’s recliner.

His inspection of me intensifies. I smile to let him know everything is fine. Even if it’s not. I have to believe it will be.

“Alex is going to get back into climbing,” Ron says.

My dad frowns. I reach over and squeeze his hand. He glances at me. I love how protective he is of me. It’s the same reason I’m here, protecting him, making sure he’s cared for and loved. That’s just what family should do.

“Really?” My grandpa’s bushy eyebrows jump up his forehead. “Is that possible with those kind of hands?”

Alex nods. “Yeah. Actually, if I were competing, some would say it gives me an unfair advantage. But I’m not competing. I’m just doing it because it’s what I love.” His attention turns to me for a brief moment.

I smile. He doesn’t. That pained look lined into his forehead remains. He can be sorry and drown in regret and I can forgive him, but we’re forever broken.

“He has some sponsors, so he’ll get his travel and gear paid for,” Ron adds.

Maybe it’s a blessing at the moment that my dad can’t say too much. I feel his conflict. Ron is his friend, but he can’t look past what he now knows about Alex. That saddens me.

I hope I never have to deal with the physical loss Alex had. But if I ever do, I hope I can navigate it with a little more love and understanding of the people around me. That uncertainty is what prevents me from truly hating him. Destruction of self-esteem poisons everyone around you. It happened to Alex, and I think it happened to Flint to some degree. So even if I can’t say the words aloud yet, I want to forgive Alex.

*

Late the next morning I wake up feeling like death—I’m so weak. I can’t even drag my ass out of bed. I fear I’m dehydrated. If I feel the need to vomit, it’s going to land on the floor. It might be time to tell my father and my grandparents the truth. I’m supposed to be the caregiver, but I can’t take my dad to his appointments, and I can’t ask my grandparents to drive him, especially not in this snowy weather.

Coffee. Yuck! They’re making coffee downstairs. The morning aroma I’ve loved for so long is now the odor that turns my stomach. The doorbell rings.

“Great …” I curl onto my side, hugging my stomach.

Alex said he would check on me today. I don’t want him seeing me like this. I don’t want his help. But I think I need it. The next thing I choke on will be my pride, but I’ll swallow past it because I’m not a one-woman show anymore. I’m also responsible for the baby demon inside of me.

Even the chatter is nauseating. My grandma laughs about something, and my grandpa says the words “upstairs.” Footsteps approach. I pull the blankets over my head. It’s been two days since I’ve had a shower and I’ve given up on brushing my teeth. I’m a mess. There’s no other way to say it.

But Alex needed help bathing and wiping his ass. I suppose this is fair.

“I smell worse than I feel. And I feel like death,” I say when I hear the footsteps stop at my door.

They continue and the bed dips. This is so embarrassing. I want to stay hidden under these covers forever.

“Doctor, if you need anything, a thermometer, water, cold compresses, just let us know,” my grandma calls up from downstairs.

I furrow my brow. Doctor? Inching the covers down like I’m scared of the boogieman, I peek to see the doctor. “Oh my god …” I whisper.

“God, doctor, whatever you need me to be for you,” Flint grins.

I reach out a shaky hand, as if I need to make sure he’s real. He snakes an arm around my back and brings me to sitting. I wrap my arms around him. If I weren’t so dehydrated, there would be some serious tears.

“Are you taking good care of my baby and its mommy?”

I cough out a small sob, hugging him tighter. “No.” It’s the truth. Clearly he can see things are not going well.

“My baby and its mommy.” My heart may explode.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He pulls back to look at me.

Ugh. The view is not good. I can feel it.

“Why are you here?”

He smiles, pushing my gross, matted hair out of my face. “Elle…” he leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead as his hand cups the back of my neck “…you know why I’m here.”

“I smell.”

With his lips still pressed to my forehead, he chuckles. “Perhaps.”

“I need a shower, but I’m too weak.”

“That’s why Dr. Hopkins is here.” He stands, shrugging off his suit jacket.

“You’re wearing a suit?”

He loosens his tie. “I had to look the part.”

As crappy as I feel, I can’t help but smile. Dang! My teeth are fuzzy. So gross.

“Give me a sec …” He goes across the hall into the bathroom and starts the water.

I ease my legs over the edge of the bed, grimacing at the mix of nausea and lightheadedness overtaking my body.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He kneels on the floor in front of me and unzips a bag that bears resemblance to an old leather doctor’s bag.

“Not far,” I murmur.

“Open.” He holds out a dropper.

I shake my head.

“Open,” he says with a bit more authority.

“I will vomit it right back up on you.”

“I’ll take my chances. Now open.”

I open with a half cringe.

Yuck! “Nasty!”

He smirks. Screwing the dropper lid back onto the bottle. “Yes. Now drink.” He hands me a bottle of some sort of liquid.

My nose wrinkles again.

He sighs. “Just do what I say, okay?”

I’m not vomiting yet, so I drink the liquid. It’s like a flavored water. Not terrible.

Flint pulls up his shirt sleeve and glances at his watch. “Another dropper full in twenty minutes.” He stands and unbuttons his white shirt.