Page 57 of Be With Me

Chapter 19

Tyler

She’s here.

I never thought I would see her again, but she was really here. It’s been three months since she told me she couldn’t handle being with me. Three fucking months of feeling like I’d been kicked in the chest. I’d never been happier to see anyone in my entire fucking life. And at the same time, I felt a wave of pure anger.

If I had only known that actually being kicked in the chest would get her to come see me, I would’ve done it myself weeks ago.

A tear slid down her cheek.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” Ah, God. She was killing me. “Ailee, come here.” I held out my hand. My ribs screamed in protest, but my body fucking ached for a completely different reason. A part of me hated her for doing what she did, and still, I needed her close to me.

She wiped at her damp cheeks, looking everywhere but at me. “I just wanted to see how you were. Willow called looking for you and told me she hadn’t heard from you for a few days. I was on my way here when I thought about Snickers.”

“Thank you for going to get him. I’ve been going crazy lying here. I didn’t know if he was in the apartment or outside or what.”

“He was outside.”

“Ah, fucking hell.” I closed my eyes. The poor little guy. I was a horrible fucking dog owner. I should find him a new person. One who wasn’t living with other people inside of him. When I opened my eyes again, I had to squint against the pain for a few seconds before I could focus on Ailee. She had moved a bit closer, but still not quite within reach.

“He’s okay,” she assured me. Her voice was thick with the tears she was trying to hold back. “How did your sister get my number?”

I had to think about that for a minute. “I gave it to her when we were…before everything happened.” Just in case. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you. That was shitty of me to do without permission. I just wanted her to have it in case I lost time again and she was looking for me.” I gave her a small shrug. “She’s the only family I have here.” Other than you. I didn’t say it out loud, but actually, Ailee was more than family to me. She was the love of my life. Even now. Even when I wanted to hate her.

“Knock, knock.”

I tore my eyes from the beautiful woman in front of me to see Dr. Bord entering my room. Perfect fucking timing.

“Hi,” the doc said. “I just wanted to check on you.” As per the usual, she didn’t call me by name, allowing whoever was fronting to make themselves known.

“I feel like I was dropped from a plane without a chute, but it looks worse than it is,” I told her. I gestured to Ailee. “This is Ailee. Ailee, this is my therapist, Dr. Bord.”

The ladies shook hands. “So, this is Ailee.” Dr. Bord smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Ailee glanced at me with a strange look, almost hurt, then turned back to the doctor. “You, too,” she told her. “I can go—”

“No,” I told her. “No. Don’t go anywhere.”

“But, if your doctor wants to talk to you—”

I turned to Dr. Bord. “Ailee can hear anything we have to talk about.” What the fuck was I doing? I should just let her leave. She obviously didn’t want to be here.

Dr. Bord smiled. “Actually, Ailee, if you had any questions, now would be a great time to ask them. Just let me close the door.”

Ailee turned to me, her expression filled with panic and something else. Hope? Curiosity? “Why would she think I have questions? I’m not in your life.”

Ah, honey. But you are. Even if I never see you again, you’ll always be in my life.

My therapist returned and pulled up a chair. I moved my legs, with some effort, so Ailee could sit on the side of the bed.

She looked back and forth between us a few times, then sat.

I wanted to take her hand. To touch her. Pull her down across my chest so I could feel the weight of her body and smell her hair. And fuck my broken ribs.

But I was angry. I was angry at Ailee. Fucking pissed off that she didn’t have the balls to stay with me. To fight for me. Angry that had the fucking nerve to show up here. Now. When I’d just finally gotten to a point that I didn’t ache for her every second of every day.

A week ago, I was ready to go on with my life. Ready to come at this thing with both fists. Handle this thing on my own. Learn how to live with my diagnosis. And I still was. I felt good. I felt strong. Well, except for all the cuts and bruises and that. But that shit would heal.

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