Page 27 of Fern's Date with Destiny
Not even an hour later, out by the corral fence, he waved to a couple headed out on a trail ride, and his left shoulder locked up like a rusted hinge.He managed a smile for the paying customers, but his brain shrieked in fear.
Back in his cabin that night, he sat post-shower on the edge of his bed.His clean flannel shirt was nearly buttoned, but he’d fumbled the last button three times before giving up.
Cold wind rattled the window behind him, snow hissing across the sill.
What.The.Hell.
His phone buzzed on the mattress beside his knee.Fern’s name bloomed on the screen like a promise.
Fern: You.Me.Leftover pie and a sappy Christmas movie.Tonight.
He should have leapt for that.But his hand jerked when he reached for the phone, the tremor flaring as if mocking him.
He typed carefully, cursing inside as he awkwardly used one hand.
Cody: Rain check.Long day.Early night.
He hit Send and hated himself.
She sent back a pouty emoji and three heart stickers.He almost broke and saidScrew it, come over,but he couldn’t.Not until he knew what the fuck was happening to him.
That night, as the barn lights glowed faint behind the living room window, Cody sat hunched over his laptop, the hum of the cabin heater filling the silence.
He typedhand tremorinto the search bar.Thenhand tremors in men under forty.Thenloss of fine motor control.
Maybe it was stupid, going online, but he didn’t know what else to do.This first, surely.
The hits he got back were quick and clear.Mayo Clinic.Parkinson’s Foundation.Patient forums where strangers poured out stories that tangled in his gut.
The tremor started on one side.Slowness of movement.Progressive.
No cure.
Cody scrubbed a palm over his face, catching his reflection in the dark window.He looked older than he should.Tired.A tightness lingered in his neck now too.An ache that wouldn’t quit even when he rotated his shoulders.
The page blurred.He didn’t realize his thumb was jumping again until he reached for the mouse and knocked it to the floor.It skittered under the bunk like a small, cowardly thing.
“It’s probably nothing,” he told the flickering cursor.
The cursor blinked back, patient, yet unbelieving.
The next morning, he was on the phone with Dr.Sydney Jeremiah’s clinic.It took a couple days before he got a phone appointment, reciting symptoms to her in a voice that felt wrong.Far too confident, far too level.“I’d appreciate you not mentioning this to anyone yet,” he added.
“Of course not.Your body, your choiceapplies to everyone.”Dr.Jeremiah listened.Calm, kind.Promised she’d get him a consult as soon as she could, but it probably wouldn’t be until the New Year.“Try to keep your stress levels low, Cody.We’ll figure it out.”
“Sure,” he rasped, staring out the barn office window at the pale sun clawing through snow-covered pine branches.A cold wind rattled the siding.Horses moved like shadows at the far fence, steam rising from their backs.
He didn’t say anything to Fern because… What was he supposed to say?I seem to be falling apart at the seams.
He dodged her texts for a few days with excuses.Fence checks, extra work with bookings at the ranch, needing extra rest.Every lie left him emptier than the last.He couldn’t bear to open his yap and talk to her, though.
Talking made it feel real.
He didn’t want real.
But not talking to Fern took far too much energy.Not being with her felt as if he had a limb missing, and the irony of that thought didn’t escape him.
Which was why two days later, he scrolled flight options with numb fingers while the wind howled outside the cabin door.
