Page 69 of The Devil You Know
Ryan nods. I feel his eyes on me as I pull out my phone from my purse. I discover that I have three text messages from Ben that I missed. The first is from two hours ago and says:Leah used the princess potty! She’s really proud of herself.
The second, from an hour ago, says:Can we talk when you get home?
The third says:I’m really sorry. Please come home, Jane.
I swallow hard as I stare down at the words on my phone. Ben’s sorry.
“Is the text from Pip?” Ryan asks.
I nod. “I’m sorry,” I say for what feels like the millionth time.
He pushes himself up into a sitting position on the couch. “Don’t be sorry. I knew you wouldn’t really cheat on your husband. You’re too… moral.”
My cheeks grow warm. “Well, I did let you kiss me.”
“Yeah, I’m shocked I got that far.” He shrugs. “I’m too late. It’s okay—I get it.”
“Maybe if you had gotten tested back in residency, it would have been different.
He manages a crooked smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I button up the two buttons on my shirt that Ryan managed to undo, grateful I didn’t let him get any further than that. I regret even those two buttons. I feel the burn of Ryan’s stubble on my chin, and I’m overcome with guilt that I actually allowed another man to kiss me. It’s Ben’s fault—how could he have said all those things to me last night?
Ryan gets up from the sofa and stretches in a way that emphasizes that the muscles in his arms and chest are just as tight as they were ten years ago. He’s really managed to keep in good shape. I genuinely don’t know how he does it. He’s even sexier than he was back then.
He throws his scrub top back on, which helps me to think straight again. The tie on his scrub pants has come loose, and I watch him cinch the waistband. And just as he’s tying the blue drawstring, I see it happen:
His right hand jerks away.
My breath catches in my throat. I didn’t just imagine that. His arm moved in a way I’d never seen before, at least not in a normal person. Maybe if this were someone else, I would have been able to ignore it. But this isRyan. Whose father died of a degenerative disease that causes jerky, involuntary movements of the arms and legs.
“What was that?” I ask.
He lifts his blue eyes to meet mine. I had expected him to look as freaked out as I feel, but he doesn’t. And that’s whatreallyfreaks me out.
“What was what?” he says.
“The way your arm moved,” I say.
He’s quiet for a moment. Finally, he says, “I don’t know. Nothing.”
“Ryan…” I look into his eyes and all I can see is sadness. And that’s when I know for sure. “How long have you been having symptoms?”
He sighs and drops down onto the sofa. He leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “A year.”
“Ayear?”
Oh my God, he’s known about this for a year. An entire year. So that means…
No wonder he came to work at the VA. He probably couldn’t keep up the pace of private practice. I can’t believe I thought he came here because ofme. I’m such an idiot.
“Have you gotten an official diagnosis?” I ask him.
He nods slowly. “Yeah. After the symptoms started, I knew I had to be tested. And… big surprise. I’ve got Huntington’s disease. Just like my dad and my brother.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. I can’t believe this. Despite everything, Ryan always seemed indestructible. I can’t imagine him degenerating the way his father did. But he will. It’s in his genes. Stupid genes.
As I watch him run a shaky hand through his hair, something occurs to me: “Are you safe to operate like that?”
