Page 42 of Lighting the Lamp
Unable to support my weight any longer, I drop to my side a second time, curled and trembling on the tile. This isn’t just a flare or something that will pass in a few moments like before; this is a goddamn freefall, and I’m alone. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper. My hand twitches. My ribs spasm. My pride twists around my throat and chokes me.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure who I’m talking to. “Make it stop.”
My voice breaks, and it feels as if my body won’t be too far behind. I don’t even know who I’m begging—God, the universe, myself. I just need it to end. I feel pathetic and completely powerless. A man twice broken by this unbelievable pain and my pride.
I close my eyes and tell myself I’ll get up in a minute. Crawl to the couch, take something, and just ride it out. But I don’t move. I can’t. My breath comes in shallow bursts; every twitch sends lightning bolts up my spine. My right hip is on fire. My fingers are numb. And the worst part? I’m still fucking conscious.
A wave of nausea surges, choking me. I try to roll, to push up on my elbows again, but I can’t. My body’s locked, frozen in place like it’s given up on me completely.
“Beau?” Alise pounds loudly on my door. “Beau, I know you’re in there.”
The second I hear her banging on the door, calling my name like a war cry, panic coils in my chest.Shit.No, she can’t be here. Not when I’m like this. Not when she might see. I clutch at my shirt, fingers trembling over the patch like I can hide it, press it flat enough that it disappears. I try to speak, to push out a weakI’m fine, but all that comes is a hoarse grunt and another wave of nausea. I don’t want her to see me like this.
I screw my eyes shut and pray she’ll go away. That she’ll take the hint, decide I’m being an asshole, and storm off the way she always threatens to when I push too hard. But Alise Moore doesn’t walk away, especially not from people she loves.
“I swear to God, if you don’t answer this door, I’m coming in. You don’t get to shut down and disappear. You don’t get to be a coward!”
Her words slam into me harder than the pain, but not because she’s wrong. It’s because she’s right. I push my face further into the floor, trying to muffle the sounds coming out of me. She can’t hear me like this. She can’t.
Another knock. Louder. More frantic. “Beau, please. Open the door.”
I dig my teeth into my arm, trying to stifle the whimper that rips out of my chest, but it comes out louder than you wouldthink. The next thing I know, the front door flies open, and her footsteps echo down the hall, sharp and furious.
Shit. My heart thunders in my ears, the monitor recording every stutter of it.
“Don’t—” I rasp, but it’s too late. She’s already seen me and starts rushing forward.
I turn my head just enough to see her drop to her knees beside me, eyes wide, hand covering her mouth.
“Beau?” she breathes, like saying my name might change what she’s seeing. “Oh, my God. Beau!”
Her hands are on my shoulders, my face, her voice high and cracking and full of terror.
“What happened? Jesus, what happened? You’re burning up. You’re—why didn’t you call someone?”
I can’t answer. I try, but all that comes out is a gasp. Her hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I can hear the fear in her breath, the rising tide. It’s thick in the room now, like a storm brewing.
“Your back? Your hip? What do you need?” Her voice cracks. “I don’t know what to do—please, just tell me what you need.”
“Everything hurts,” I croak. “My back locked, and I can’t move my legs. It’s—I don’t know what this is, but it’s not normal. It’s worse.”
Her breath catches on a sob. “Oh, my God.”
I blink, and her face swims in and out of focus—pale, stricken, like she’s physically hurting just looking at me. Her lips tremble. She’s trying so hard to keep it together, but I see her unraveling, thread by thread, and it guts me. I can’t let her stay. I need to make her leave. I clutch my shirt tighter, fingers digging over the monitor like I can shield it from her touch.
I summon what little venom I have left and mutter, “How did you get in?”
“You’re the fucking idiot who leaves his key under the mat,” she snaps. “That’s dangerous, you know. Anyone could come by and let themselves into your condo.”
“It’s for Darius,” I whisper. “Safe place.”
She pauses, her expression shifting. It’s not soft exactly, but sharp in a different way. It’s like she’s not just looking at me but seeing me, seeing the cracks I’ve kept hidden. But she also knows what Darius has been through, what we’ve all been through. She knows what it cost him to ask for shelter, even from me.
Alise closes her eyes and nods. “Okay, that makes sense.”
And just for a second, I think maybe she’ll let it go, but then her voice cracks. “But you don’t get to do this to me. Not today.”
I flinch as she pulls back, tears streaking down her face. “You don’t get to lie here in agony and try to push me out like that’s some kind of mercy. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re trying to make me mad so I’ll leave. So you can be in pain alone.”
