Page 69 of You're So Vine
He’s fully dressed now, bar his work boots. I’m faced with a day on my own, with nothing to do but think about a three o’clock appointment that might reveal … what?
“You okay?”
Cam’s brown eyes show concern like nobody else’s. And the truth is, I’m not okay. But that’s my problem, not Cam’s. He’s doing more than enough.
“I’m good,” I say pretty convincingly. “I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied.”
Cam bends, kisses me softly but intently. I don’t grab onto him, which shows great restraint on my part.
“See you at two thirty,” he says.
And off down the stairs he goes. I check my phone. It’s eight forty-five. Only five and three-quarter hours to wait. Or in real terms, ten zillion years.
Guess I could walk into Verity, check out the job posts. The temporary ones, at least. But it’s eight miles and I know that kind of exercise would wreck me. What I don’t know is why. And like I said when I was being grown-ass woman honest with Cam last night, that makes me terrified.
I’ve never had to deal with anything medical that was truly serious. I’ve broken bones and I’ve been concussed and that’s it. Okay, a few degrees the other way, I might have been paralyzed or killed, but I wasn’t. I was laid up for a while, which, of course, I bitched and moaned about. But because my riding job meant I had to be in top form, I followed the doctors’ advice and bounced back.
Until the day all my bounce left me. Flat as a balloon with no air. And no job.
You know, I really did think that a couple of weeks bumming around in my parents’ house scarfing Mom’s cookies would fix me right up. When it didn’t, when I stayed tired right down to my bones, I truly believed it was better not to tell anyone. They were worried enough about Dad. No need to add me into the mix.
And as soon as Dad was on the mend, Nate announced he was getting married. More distraction! If I hadn’t fainted at the wedding, I might have been able to slide under the radar for a whole bunch longer.
Ha! Who am I kidding? Mom had already spotted that I wasn’t at my best. She knows me too well, being my mother and all. And she’d shared her concerns with Doc, so it was only a matter of time before they staged an intervention. I would have objected and deflected and told half-truths, and everyone would have got super cranky. Then Nate would have piled on. He fights dirty so he’d have brought Dad into it, and…
Okay, so in hindsight, it was a good thing that I fainted at the wedding. Saved a lot of Durant family aggravation, which is several levels above normal family aggravation. And of course, big plus, it meant I got together with Cam.
Cam, who’s coming with me today even though he hates hospitals and doctors’ offices and anything medical.
All we talked about last night was showering and getting up and down stairs—domestic stuff. But what if I have something that means hospitals and medical treatment are a regular thing? How could I dump that on Cam, force him to go through it when it’s so triggering for him? PTSD is a serious condition; what if it got worse because of me? Nothing’s worth sacrificing your mental health for. Not even a person you care about.
I’m a pragmatist and know I’m getting ahead of myself here. But not so far ahead that it’s unrealistic. I’m also a planner—love me a good plan. So how should it play out if the diagnosis is that kind of bad? What would be best for both of us: meandCam?
It’s nine fifteen. I’ve got five and a quarter hours to come up with something. Because right now, I sure as heck can’t think of any scenario in which Cam and I have a happy ending.
ChapterTwenty-Two
CAM
Icollect the Dodge keys from Nate at the office. He hands them over with a grim look and I brace myself. Okay, so Ava ishis sister and technically, I didn’t ask for more time off, but I know this is pushing it. I have responsibilities to Nate and Shelby, too. Don’t want to let anyone down anymore.
“If the news is bad,” Nate says, “can you ignore all Ava’s instructions and call me straightaway?”
“I … don’t know if I can make that kind of promise,” I tell him.
“Then send me a text,” says Nate. “I’ll take the heat if she finds out.”
Shit. I know I’d make the same request if I were in Nate’s shoes. But…
“It won’t be my news to tell,” I say. “Sorry. I know how you feel.”
“Fuck,” says Nate, but I can see he accepts my stand. “Well … encourage Ava to communicate as fast as possible. She’s proud and stubborn and won’t want to, but she’s got a whole family worried about her, so do what you can … please,” he adds after a beat.
Nate tends to bark out orders when he’s stressed. Shelby’s having an influence on him. Like Ava’s having an influence on me.
As neither of us is the bro-hugging type, I nod. Nate hands me the keys. Conversation concluded.
It’s twenty minutes to my workshop from the Flora Valley Wines office if you walk, three if you drive. I pull up at my place at two thirty-one, expecting Ava to be waiting outside in her usual impatient fashion. But the front door is shut and there’s no sign of her. I think about hitting the horn, but her nerves are probably already frayed to the max, so I set the brake and get out. Open the front door … she’s not in the main room, either.
