Page 21 of Blade's Return
“Dad’s been worse today,” she says softly, stating the obvious.
“What is it he has exactly, Usdi?”
“It’s called CMT for short. It stands for Charcot Marie Tooth disease.”
“I’ve never even heard of it before,” I respond honestly.
“It’s a hereditary disease that affects the muscles by damaging peripheral motor nerves. It’s complicated, but basically it results in muscle weakness, atrophy, and loss of muscle control in the affected areas.” Her voice shakes, but she keeps talking. “For Dad it began in the muscles of his feet and legs, before spreading to his back, arms, and hands. He drops things now, and he can barely walk without help. It has also affected his diaphragm and lungs—which is why he's on oxygen. He also gets vertigo and numerous other things which is all a by-product of the disease, I guess. There’s no cure—just progression.”
I swallow hard. “Sweetheart …”
She shakes her head, tears glinting on her lashes. “He was always so strong, Blade. I’ve seen my dad lift the front end of a commercial grade, riding mower with his bare hands. Now there are days he can’t even hold the book he wants to read.”
She sits, her body tense and tears glowing in her eyes—refusing to fall. “I keep telling myself he’ll stabilize, but every day he gets weaker. Today’s pain was so bad. The muscles in his calves were drawing and bunching up so bad that you could practically see the knots forming underneath his skin. I don’t know how to help him.”
The ache in my chest burns. I reach across the table, covering her trembling hand with mine. “You’re helping him, Usdi. You’re here. You’re doing everything you can.”
Her lip quivers. “Sometimes I feel like I’m losing both of us at the same time—him and me.”
I squeeze her fingers gently. “You’re not. You are here, helping him through this every day. You might not be able to see it, but you are amazing.”
That makes her meet my eyes—just for a second. And damn, it’s another punch of emotion that hits me hard. There’s trust there, fragile but real, and it’s enough to make me open my stupid mouth. “You need a break,” I say.
“I do?” she laughs.
“Definitely. Bear invited me to a club party tomorrow night. Bonfire, food, music—just some breathing room. Come with me.”
The change in her face is instant. The softness freezes into something guarded. “The Saint’s Outlaws’ club?”
“Yeah. It’s nothing wild. Just family hanging out.”
Her shoulders stiffen. “I can’t, Blade. I’m not comfortable in that world.”
“They’re in the same world you are, baby. I’m here with you. I work with them every day. Bear is a friend. Right now, Livy, you’re being judgmental. Surely, you can see that. You’ve made up your mind, without even experiencing it firsthand.”
She shakes her head, pushing her chair back. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s not my world and I don’t want to go to the party. Now, let’s talk about something else.” Olivia’s words annoy and hurt me—right now, annoyance is winning, however. I guess that’s why I insist on continuing to argue with her.
“Livy, it’s just a party. Nothing will happen. I’ll be right there by your side. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“Maybe not,” she says quietly, “but it’s not my life. It’s definitely not the life I want to build when I find a man to love. I didn’t think it was your life either, Blade.” Her voice hardens the longer she speaks about the club. Bear’s words come back to haunt me, but I steadfastly ignore them.
That word—love—hits me like a load of bricks. “Livy, just think about it.”
“I don’t know why you’re asking me any of this. Why are you pushing for the two of us to go to this party? You’re not a biker. You’re a lawyer. It’s not like you’re part of the club.”
I shove back from the table. “Maybe I want to be one day. I like and respect Bear. He’s a good man, you know that. I don’t see how you can like Bear the way you do—be close to his old lady and still manage to make assumptions about his club. Bear has never given you cause to dislike him. You don’t see what we—they—build, what they protect. That club’s done more for this town than any of the local government.”
“You’re wrong, I do know,” she whispers. “But that lifestyle is not the kind of life I want for my future—for the future of my children. I’m already losing one man I love,” she says, and I know she’s talking about her father. Her words cut like a knife. I look at her—really look—and she’s standing there with her hands wrapped around herself like she’s cold, tears barely held back. “I’m not going to set myself up to fall deeper into whatever this is with you only to lose you, too.”
“Livy,” I start, but she cuts me off, voice trembling.
“Please. Just go.”
For a long moment, all I hear is the low hum of the oxygen concentrator in the other room and the sound of my own pulse roaring in my ears. I could fight her—try to say something to change her mind. I don’t, mostly because I think at this point it will push her further away.
Instead, I nod once, jaw tight, voice dead. “Yeah. Okay.”
I grab my jacket from the chair, every step heavier than the last. For the first time ever, she doesn’t follow—doesn’t say another word.
