Fix Me

“Good. I’ve got your plate in the dining room.”

We sat down, eating a nice breakfast. “It’s great,” I said, forcing myself to eat. Mel would shove the food down my throat if I didn’t eat.

Once I had stuffed myself until I felt on the verge of being sick, I headed back to bed. I silently prayed sleep would come. The tricky part of insomnia was the more you craved sleep, the harder it was to get.

“I’ll check on you in a bit,” Mel said after I had gotten into bed. “Don’t get up. Even if you can’t sleep right away, stay put.”

“Yes, mother,” I said with a smile.

She left the room, leaving me alone in the darkness once again. Part of me was worried Ellis would tell me I couldn’t have the surgery because my body was run down from a lack of sleep. The more factors going against me getting the surgery made me want it even more. I suppose that was a good thing. I was going to have to fight to get it. The stupid thing was, I was my own worst enemy and I couldn’t seem to do shit about it.

I closed my eyes, trying to force my brain to shut off. It refused. I thought about being blind at fifty and all alone with no family around. I didn’t know how long Luke would stick around if I couldn’t see. I thought about having children. My body would physically be able to have a child, but how was I going to care for a child if I couldn’t see it? I would be forced to rely on nannies.

I was getting way ahead of myself but that’s what was keeping me up. Stupid thoughts like that were running through my head constantly. “Please,” I silently pleaded. “Please let me sleep.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Luke

I WOKE UP IN A COLD sweat. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could feel something was wrong. My eyes popped open as I searched the room to try and figure out what had spooked me. I blinked several times, trying to clear my vision. I stared at the clock and saw it was almost noon. I rubbed a hand over my face and did a little mental rewind.

“Dream,” I murmured. “It was only a dream.”

More like a nightmare. I had been back in Texas taking care of my mother, except it wasn’t my mom. It was Bree. We had just had a hell of a fight and she was crying. I had told her I couldn’t deal with her shit anymore and walked away from her. I had left her alone and crying. Her blindness was permanent and instead of moving on with her life, she had morphed into another version of my mother.

It had felt like I was being held down by chains. I had fought to break free from my mother and ended up with Bree. At least, that’s how it had felt in the dream. And, just like I did with my mom, I had left Bree. I had run away, determined to live my life free of her and the burden she presented.

I threw off the blankets, needing to shake off the feeling of despair. I could still see the look on Bree’s face as I walked out the door. I had abandoned someone that needed me. My mom had left several messages last night. I checked them before I crawled into bed this morning and they had left me feeling like shit.

My mother could win a gold medal in the art of laying on guilt trips and I felt like shit for leaving her. I wasn’t sure if she was truly sick, but she had sounded sick in her messages. I knew she could fake it very well and wanted to believe it was just another one of her games, but I didn’t know for sure.

Bree had damn near pushed me out of her room earlier, insisting I go home and try to sleep. She promised she would do the same. I wanted to stay with her. I wanted to be strong for her, but I was so exhausted. I kept dozing off on her. I suggested I lay in bed with her and just hold her, but she nixed the idea.

I should have insisted. I should have put my foot down and told her I wasn’t going anywhere. I was weak. I had given into my own need and come home to sleep. I reached for my phone and found a text from Mel saying she was with Bree.

“Thank goodness,” I muttered, my guilt only slightly assuaged.

I walked into the bathroom, taking a long shower in an attempt to make me feel human again. My normal routine would include me going to the main house to check on Bree and have coffee with her. I wasn’t doing that today. I needed to keep my distance. I couldn’t look at her and see those dark circles and the look of despair on her face.

Damn. It felt like I was running away from her—just like the nightmare. I made my coffee and instead of going outside to enjoy the fresh air, I stayed in. I was hiding like a fucking coward. I didn’t want to risk seeing her and Mel walking around the grounds. She would want to talk. I needed to figure out what the hell I was doing.

Mel had told me this kind of thing was normal for Bree. I didn’t think I was strong enough or patient enough to deal with it. I felt like a total dick for even thinking that, but it was the truth. I did not have the physical or mental strength to deal with another woman who didn’t w

ant to get better. I couldn’t deal with a woman that depended on me for everything without wanting to try and better herself.

“That’s why you are an asshole,” I muttered, before sipping my coffee.

I finished the coffee and put the few dirty dishes that were in the sink into the dishwasher. I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with myself. I needed to clear my head. I needed to figure out what the hell I was doing in California. I needed to figure out if I could be the man Bree needed me to be. If I couldn’t, I needed to leave before things got any more complicated.

Hurting her was the very last thing I wanted to do, but if I wasn’t man enough to take her as she was, baggage included, I needed to go. I began to pace, feeling stir crazy. I didn’t want to be so damn nearby. Part of me longed to go to her. I wanted to check on her and make sure she was okay.

And I wasn’t the only one who could take care of her. She wasn’t like my mother in that regard. Then again, my mom used to have several people in her life to take care of her, too. They all left, including me. Would Mel leave her? Would her best friend grow exhausted and leave Bree? Her father wasn’t getting any younger. Who would be there for Bree when he passed away?

“Fuck,” I groaned, rubbing my hands through my hair and scrubbing at my unshaven face.

I was thinking too hard and making a mountain out of a molehill. It had been years of living with my mother. She could take a simple cold and turn it into a life-threatening bout with pneumonia. I was used to little things becoming big things. Another bad habit I had picked up. How could I be any good for Bree when I was prone to such antics?

There was a knock on the door, snapping me out of my downward spiral. I assumed it was Mel and immediately felt like an asshole because I was hoping she hadn’t brought Bree over. I opened the door and found Paul standing on the other side looking none too pleased.