Medicine Man

“Because it shouldn’t be your question. It should be my question. I should be asking it.”

I can feel his chest punching into mine with his out of control breaths. His erratic breathing rhythm is messing with my rhythm, and I shove at him.

“Then why haven’t you?”

He looks at the sky as if he’s exasperated. “Because, Willow, you’re young. You’re so fucking young. And you’re impulsive.”

I glare at him, though it’s hard to do that in the rain. “Are you saying I’m not your type?”

Simon cups my cheek, tilting my neck. “I’m saying that you’re asking me to marry you and you haven’t even said it yet.”

His rainy, musky smell is driving me wild. God, I want this man with every cell, every single atom in my body, and he’s saying no to me.

“Said what?”

“That you love me.”

I’m taken aback. “I… I haven’t?”

His laugh is humorless. “No.”

I know he tells me every day. I know that. That’s the best part of my day. He says it right when he’s about to leave me for the night and go back to his apartment. I take those three words and sleep with them under my pillow. Well, after I make myself come with his name on my lips.

But I didn’t realize that I hadn’t said it yet. I say it to myself all the time.

Oh my God, does he not know?

His expression is a little ticked off, and I realize that maybe he’s been waiting for me to tell him all this time.

Idiot. How can he not know?

“Maybe I haven’t said it yet because…” I search for words. “Because what I feel for you is more than love. It’s... it’s happiness. You make me happy, Simon. I mean, as much as I can be. I know you said that I could do whatever I wanted to. I could be happy, if I wanted to. You said that I don’t need you for that. And maybe that’s true. Maybe I would’ve been happy someday. Maybe my smile would’ve reached my eyes. But I would’ve always, always looked for you. I would’ve stopped laughing just to search for you because I would’ve wanted to share it with you. But more than that… I would’ve wanted to share my tears with you. And you know what, even if I were crying and you were there, my world wouldn’t look so dark. So bleak. I would find some sliver of happiness even when I was sad. My mind wouldn’t be able to get my heart down because you were with me. Don’t you know that already, you moron? That’s, like the biggest, most gigantic thing anyone could ever do for me. You make my sadness not so… sad.”

I’m crying now. He knows it, even though it’s raining, and you can’t tell. He can always tell, though.

My hero.

“Fuck, Willow. Stop talking,” Simon groans against my lips.

Of course, I don’t listen. “I love you seems so little for what you are to me, Simon. But I do. I love you and I wanna be your wife. Even though I ruined everything for you.”

“Stop talking, Willow.”

The Heartstone Incident wasn’t only bad for me. It was bad for him, too. Simon hasn’t gone back to work because this time the rumors are worse. There’s a hint of truth to them. He says he doesn’t want to go back to work – not yet, at least – and he’s focusing on writing a book about bipolar patients and their care.

Not to mention, he’s spending some time in therapy about the issues relating to his mom’s suicide, and how he spent his childhood taking care of her.

But what if they never take him back? The lawsuit has been settled by Mass General, but what if this time around, even without the legal repercussions, his career is basically over?

I fist the lapels of his jacket. “I’m sorry, Simon. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for putting myself in danger and basically outing our secret. I never wanted anyone to find out. I never wanted to do that to you or to myself. I’m so sorry, Simon. I’m an idiot.”

“Stop. Talking.”

Obviously, I keep talking. “I-I know how difficult I can be. I know that. I know living with me, with someone like me won’t be a picnic. And I can’t ask anyone to do that, you know. Like, marry me and have babies with me because you never know if my babies are gonna come out like me or –”

He presses my cheeks together, almost making duck lips. “Shut the fuck up, Willow.”

I still try to open my mouth but his glare cuts me off.

When he’s satisfied that I won’t say another word, he eases the pressure off my cheeks. His jaw is working back and forth and a second later, he asks, “Are you trying to hurt me?”