“I’m fine,” I grumble.
“You’re not fine!” Ikram counters more harshly. “You’re limping and breathing all wrong!”
“It’s anxiety. I need to find a home for Prue in case—”
“You. Need. To. Rest,” he cuts me off. “We’re done for today. Call them to reschedule.”
My grip tightens around the paper, crumpling it in my fist as another wave of pain seizes my heart.
It’s anxiety. Just anxiety. It’ll be better once I find her a home.
“I need—”
“Jack, you’re really pale. Fuck, I knew we should have stopped at least three houses ago…”
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
From the corner of my eye, I see him glance at me every minute, his frown deepening. His knuckles are white around the steering wheel.
“We’re going home. Evie should already be there.”
Right. We invited her over for drinks… I forgot. Is it 8p.m. already? Did we really spend nearly ten hours looking? Am I the asshole for snapping at him and being pushy about this?
“I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t say anything, the engine is the only sound in the car for a long minute.
“I know you’re worried,” he finally says. “I know you’re in pain. But it doesn’t give you the right to snap at me when I’m simply trying to help.”
“You’re right.”
“The only thing I want is for you to be happy and us to be together. Please, don’t push me away.”
The tightness in my throat intensifies as tears gather in my eyes. I take a few—not deep enough—breath, but the pressure behind my eyes is too strong and a couple of tears escape me anyway.
“I’m sorry. I’m just freaking out because of the list, and I took it out on you.”
“I’m worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard,” Ikram says softly, taking a turn left. “It’s not because you can walk again that you need to run a marathon.”
I close my eyes and let the tears fall on my cheeks, focusing on myuneven heartbeat and short breathing instead. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but it still feels… wrong.
“I know. I promise I’ll be more careful, and save my strength.”
He turns his head towards me, just enough to find and take a hold of my hand. “Thank you.”
His words squeeze my heart. Because this man is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I should tell him I’m not feeling fine. I should let him prepare for what’s maybe not just anxiety.
But I can’t. Because I’m selfish, and I want all of our moments to be free of worries and pity. Because if I tell him, he’ll tell Prue. I don’t want her to know until the very end, until I’m sure she won’t look at me suffer for too long.
I won’t even be able to say goodbye to her anyway. Not if she looks at me. Not if she sees the pain, guilt, and worry in my eyes.
No, she’ll have the hundreds of letters I wrote and kept hidden from her for years. That will be my goodbye. The last selfish thing I do that I hope she’ll forgive.
45
GRATEFUL
Nuri: A little bird told me you and dear old Nate went on a little romantic getaway?
