Page 151 of When Ben Loved Jace
The surgeon stiffens. “Have you been experiencing suicidal thoughts?”
“No,” Jace says with a humorless laugh. “I don’t want to die. Trust me. Otherwise, I’d be having a grand ol’ time right now.”
“I understand. The reason I chose this occupation is because aneurysms run in my family. Surviving doesn’t mean you get through unscathed. In many ways, that’s only the beginning of the battle, but I promise, you can win this war.”
She provides us with information for various resources. I take particular note of those relating to mental health, because I’m worried about my husband. Especially his demeanor when we make it back to the car.
“How about a burger?” he suggests casually. “And a milkshake. What place has the best onion rings?”
I stare at him. “Are you okay?”
“No, Ben. I’m not okay. I’m hungry.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Oh, you mean this?” he asks, tapping the side of his head. “The ticking time bomb? I’m hoping my broken short-term memory will take care of that. If you see a blank expression the next time someone asks me about this appointment, do me a favor anddon’tremind me. In eight weeks, pretend that you’re taking me out for ice cream, because I’d rather not know. Now seriously, who has the best onion rings?”
“Umm…” I swallow while trying to think, but my mind is fixated on one thing and one thing only. The threat of losing him.
“Start the car!” he snarls. “Let’s go!”
I turn the ignition. Then a whimper escapes my throat and it all comes pouring out. I hunch over the steering wheel while sobbing.
“Hey,” Jace says softly. “I’m sorry. Come here.”
He pulls on me. I lean over, resting my head on his shoulder, and feel him kiss the top of my head. “I’m scared, Jace!”
“I am too,” he replies. “Terrified.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“What every single person on this planet does: Pretend that death is only a distant possibility, when really, there are no guarantees. I might choke to death on an onion ring today. Wouldn’t that be ironic?”
I sit upright and consider him. “I’m more worried about you drinking the milkshake too fast.”
“Oh, now thatwouldbe funny. Death by brain freeze. Can we go? I really am hungry.”
“I need you to kiss me first.”
“To reward me for being a moody asshole?”
“No. I simply hate it when you have onion breath.”
“Fair enough.”
“That, and I’m grateful for every minute we get to spend together, because you’re right. None of them are guaranteed.”
Jace takes my face in his hands, and judging from the tenderness of that kiss, I know he feels the same way.
ChapterThirty-seven
Jace and I are sitting at the end of a dock, an expanse of wooded lake spread out before us. We aren’t alone in these tranquil surroundings. Ducks form a semi-circle in the water, like an audience expecting a performance. Or a small mob who have gathered to demand a free meal. A bag of white bread sits between my husband and me, already half empty.
We needed this. Since learning of the two previously occult aneurysms—as he has taken to calling them—Jace has been doing constant research, picking up so much medical jargon that I often have a difficult time understanding him. Which can be a blessing, considering that he never seems to focus on positive news. I always return home to a darkened living room, the glow of a laptop screen the only light as he delves into medical journals and pores over clinical trials.
That hasn’t been good for our relationship. Steering conversation away to other subjects is difficult, when the only work I’m doing right now is at the hospital. That gives him way too many opportunities to divert back to his favorite topic. After I communicated these grievances to my mom, my parents came to the rescue. They booked us into the little cabin where we’ve been staying the past few days. Even the drive out here was refreshing, offering a literal change of scenery. Best of all, Samson was able to make the trip with us. That’s especially fortuitous, because there are plenty of bugs in the cabin that need vanquishing. He’s a happy boy.
So am I. Jace and I have gone on walks, made love repeatedly, reminisced over our favorite memories, and reconnected while being cut off from the world in the best way possible. We don’t get a signal out here. The cabin only has a landline. That means no internet to prey on our worst fears in the name of increasing ad revenue. Jace still needs frequent naps. So do I. I’ve been carrying around more stress than I realized. I feel much lighter now.
