Page 66 of You're So Vine
“Spill,” I say gently. “I’m here for you.”
“Okay.” She sits up, loosens her shoulders, and puffs out breaths like she’s on the starting line of a running race. “Okay…”
Good thing I’ve had a lot of practice being still and quiet.
“Okay.” Ava draws herself up tall. Then starts to speak at a million miles an hour. “I quit my job at the racing stables before I was fired for non-performance, and I wasn’t performing because I was constantly exhausted for no reason that I could see. I went to a doctor, and they gave me iron tablets and told me to eat more so I did, and nothing changed.Nothing.Just as I was starting to properly freak out, Dad got sick so I had this perfect excuse to run on home, and because everyone was so busy with him, and then with Shelby and Nate’s wedding, I could fly under the radar and avoid letting on that there was anything wrong. Thought I’d managed that fine, but Mom has eagle eyes and she ratted me out to Doc Wilson, and then I passed out at the wedding, and you know what’s happened since.”
She pauses for a quick inhale.
“But that’s not my secret. My secret is that I’m terrified. I’m terrified that my life is over because I have some shitty debilitating illness that’ll either kill me or make me a burden to my loved ones for the rest of my probably shortened life. I’m terrified that you and I will never get a chance to have a proper relationship because you’ll be carrying me around because I can’t walk and showering me and doing other things that I won’t mention because they ick me out. And you’ll be miserable, and I’ll be miserable and humiliated, and it will suck so hard that whole galaxies will be pulled into its sucky black hole. Or I’ll be dead. Which, right now, sounds like the waybetter option.”
“I—”
Nope. Not finished.
“I hate being pitied. I hate, hate,hatethe idea of being dependent. I hate the thought of being dead, despite its practicalities. I hate thinking about anyof this because it scares the living shit out of me and I especially hate talking about it, so I’ll shut up now.”
She folds her arms tight across her chest and hunches her shoulders almost to her ears, giving her the look of a pissed punk-rock vulture. It’s funny but it isn’t.
I reach my arm around her and coax her stiff body against mine.
“You know, some of the kids I do therapy riding class with are seriously physically disabled.” I’m not sure this is the right thing to say, but I’ve started now. “But they know how to experience joy. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen them amazed by what their bodies can do, even when they can hardly do a thing. I’ve seen them frustrated, too. Lashing out. It’s hard. It’s a day-at-a-time life. I’m in awe of all of them. And everyone who loves them and gives them the care they need with dignity and respect.”
Ava says nothing, but her body has lost its stiffness.
“If Doc Wilson has bad news, I’d be honored to care for you,” I say. “Plus, you’re super light, so I can carry you around until I’m creaky and old.”
There’s a long pause, and I worry I’ve gone too far.
“I’m going to wipe my own ass as long as I’m able, though,” she says.
“Noted.”
“And I’m not dead yet,” she adds.
“Undeniably true.”
Ava slides her hand down to parts of me that are also undeniably alive and responsive.
“So now we’ve got all our secrets out in the open and the world didn’t end,” she says, with a wicked smile. “How do you feel about improving that B score?”
ChapterTwenty-One
AVA
Iwake up to Cam gently nudging my arm. Roll over in the hopes it’s all on again only to find he’s sitting on the side of the bed. Holding out my phone.
“Doc Wilson,” he says.
Shit. Any lingering sexy embers have been doused with cold water.
I scramble into a sitting position. “What did he say?”
Cam pushes the phone at me. “That he wants to talk to you.”
I almost wriggle my hands away, like a kid who doesn’t want to touch something gross. But I’m not a kid. I’m a grown-ass woman. I need to grown-ass woman-up.
“Hey, Doc,” I say, breezily as I can.
