Fix Me

I wanted to be angry. Yet, I was tired of being angry. “I don’t know.”

“Bree, I’m in this with you no matter what you choose. I only want you to be happy. If you don’t want to do the surgery, it is your choice.”

I could hear the disappointment in his voice. It was the same tone I heard in my father’s. I had tried repeatedly to explain to them how I felt and why I was hesitant. Though I knew it was silly, I kept thinking about the risks. What if the surgery didn’t work and it ruined any chance I had to ever see again?

“I just don’t know,” I said. “I wish I could say yes or no. I wish I could just know what to do. But I don’t know.”

“Why don’t I call Ellis. I can ask her to come over here and talk to you. It will allow you to be in a relaxed environment. You’ll be able to focus on what she is saying without reacting to the environment. I can be with you or you can just talk to her on your own.”

It was a sweet gesture, but I had to wonder if it was just so he could see her again. But I was not going to sound like a whiny, jealous girlfriend if it killed me. “I’ll think about it.”

He squeezed my hand. “That works for me.”

“Does this mean no more quickies?” I teased.

He groaned. “Don’t tease me. This is really for the best. It doesn’t change how I feel about you, but I want to make sure you are getting the best care possible and I don’t want to feel like I’m not doing my job.”

As much as I understood his reasons, I didn’t like it. There was a little voice in the back of my head telling me that he was breaking up with me because he really wanted to be free of me. He had met what I assumed was an old flame and now that they had reconnected, and he wanted her. She was a doctor. A seeing doctor and was probably gorgeous.

“You know, I think I might have caught something while we are the hospital. That is why I hate hospitals. If you’re not sick when you go in, you’re going to be sick when you get out.” I tried to keep it light. If I told him I wanted to be alone and crawl back into bed, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He would be the good man I knew him to be. He’d cater to me and try to make me feel better. I didn’t want to feel better. I wanted to wallow.

“Uh-oh,” he said, his hand suddenly on my forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I just feel kind of blah. If it’s okay, I’d like to lay down for a bit.”

“Okay, I’ll get you back in there.”

He walked me through the house and tucked me into bed. “You don’t have to stay with me.”

“Are you sure?”

&n

bsp; “I’m sure. Maybe you can make me some of that chicken noodle soup you were boasting about?”

He chuckled, his hand reaching out and touching my face. “I will and you’ll see just how much better you’ll feel.”

I smiled, touching his hand before rolling to my side. “Thank you.”

“I’ll check on you in a bit.”

Closing my eyes, I listened to his footsteps fade and the door close. I let go of the breath I felt like I’d been holding. I had one blissful week. One. Seven days out of the last three months. That wasn’t fair. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself. Well, I could, but I didn’t want to.

Luke had been an answer to prayer I didn’t know I had. And I’d been happy. Happier than I’d even been before the accident. Those first few days after waking up from the coma had been a nightmare. I remembered thinking I would never be happy again. Then Luke had come along. He’d shown me new ways to be happy. He’d given me hope for a future I didn’t think was possible. He’d made me feel alive and truly happy.

And now he was dumping me. He had some good excuses and the rational part of me wanted to believe him, but then there was that part of me that believed I wasn’t good enough. He only wanted me until something better came along.

I sneezed, confirming my suspicions that I had caught a bug. As if I wasn’t dealing with enough shit already, now I got to be stuffed up and unable to breathe along without being able to see. I had come to depend on my sense of smell and wasn’t looking forward to losing it, even if it was only for a few days.

Groaning, I rolled to my back, throwing my arm out to the side. I needed to make a change. I needed to shit or get off the pot, as my father always said. I couldn’t live in limbo. Luke’s suggestion to talk to the doctor at the house was a good one. I could admit I’d barely heard what she’d been saying. My nerves were already shot just getting through the hospital and then getting shut down by the first doctor. I wasn’t really listening to what Dr. Ellis Tanner was saying. I was too busy imagining what she looked like. I had been too focused on the way Luke’s voice had changed when she approached us.

Never had I ever felt jealous with Nate. Hell, I would have been grateful to any woman that wanted to take him off my hands. I wasn’t the clingy type. I missed being confident. I missed feeling pretty and strong. I missed feeling carefree.

One week. For one week I had felt all those things. I felt the tears slide down my cheek and groaned again. I was so fucking sick of crying. I had cried enough for three lifetimes. Crying got me nowhere. Crying just made me feel worse and it definitely didn’t make me look any better. I was an ugly crier. I knew that from experience.

I wiped my hand over my face, refusing to cry over something that may or may not be true. I inhaled through my nose, pushing away the feelings of despair and sadness. I didn’t want him to walk back in and see me bawling again.

Chapter Two