Page 103 of Ellie Hayes and the Himbos
“What can you do now?” Ian asks.
“What?” We’re on the bed, my legs across his lap, Ian holding me to his chest. I don’t know how long we’ve been like this, but when I sit up, my ear has left a pink imprint high on his left pectoral.
“You plan.” He says it plainly, but his voice is strained. There’s tension in his face, too, pain in his eyes. He’s fighting to keep it together for me. His chest rises in a long breath, but it takes him a moment to continue speaking. “So, what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”
“I’m…” My mind churns. Canes. Fatigue. Memory loss. Urge incontinence. Paralysis—
“What can you do, Ellie?”
I shake my head, trying to disrupt the spiraling symptoms. None of that is up to me. What can I control? What can I do? “I have Dr. Hartman’s cell phone number. It’s on his card. I have that in my wallet. He told me to call him if”—I suck in a sob, and Ian’s hold tightens—“this happened.”
“I’ll get your wallet. Then what?”
“I don’t know. A lot will depend on when I get in with him, and then what he says—” My throat closes around the rest. But there is no rest. That was it. One thing. I could only come up with one fucking thing. There’s nothing else I can do.
My breathing starts to pick up, my body going tense—
“Okay.” Ian runs his hands over my back, and something crinkles against me before he releases it to the bed beside us. It’s thecoffee filter. He came to me so quickly, he hadn’t even put the damn thing down.
He cares.It’s a given. Not presumed, or taken for granted, but as much of who he is as his strength and his eyes and his capable hands. He cares so much, about so many people and things. It’s what he does. It’s what made me fall in love with him.
But it’s too much. I don’t want this for him.
“What else can I do?” he asks. “What do you need from me?”
Not “Now what?,” but “What can I do? What do you need?”
The questions break me and mend me in the same breath. I need him here, but I don’t want this. Not for him. I don’t have a choice, but he does.
I stare into his face, his exceptional eyes watching me, forehead marred with worry. My head shakes. Or my whole body does. The thoughts start to spiral again. I shouldn’t have gone to him that night. It was selfish and shortsighted, and I knew better than to hope. It isn’t fair. It—
One of his hands goes to my cheek, but I keep shaking. I can’t get it out. I can’t let him go, but I can’t let him stay. Not for this.
“Speak to me, Hayes.”
“I don’t want this for you!” I force it out on a sob. Tears fall down my face, heavy and hot. “I don’t want you to have to do this. This is why I told you to go. Because I knew you would never leave over this. But I—” I squeeze his hand, and I know I know I know I should let go, but I can’t. I’m too greedy for him. “This is too much. I don’t want you to have to take this on.”
He cradles my face in both hands now, thumbing away the tears. “It’s part of you,” he says, his voice unsteady but firm. “If it’s part of you, I’m taking it on.”
“I’m going to need you too much.”
“There’s no such thing.”
I grab his other wrist but still can’t make myself move either of his hands away. “You don’t know that! We don’t know what this means! We don’t know what it’s going to end up looking like. I already—” I halt, hating the question I haven’t even braved asking yet. “What about kids, Ian?”
He blinks. “What?”
“Have you even thought about what being with me will be like long-term? What it could really mean. What I already probably can’t do. And now this—”
“We’ll figure it out,” he rasps, brushing away more of my tears.
“You’re already doing too much! You’re supposed to be coaching!” I remind him. “But you’re here instead. Because ofme.”
“Because I’m not going anywhere. I told you that.” His hands leave my face, but I don’t let go. “The class will be fine. Tom and Babs know the door code. You wrote the workout on the board before we came upstairs last night. I’ll call one of the guys and they’ll be here before five a.m.’s even finished the warm-up.”
The fear has its claws firmly in me, but damn it all, that was a competent response. I want to climb into his skin.
A gentle hope softens his eyes. “Did that kind of work for you?”
