“Tell me,” I said quietly. “Tell me next time. No matter what.”
“Okay,” he whispered back. “I will.” His gaze stroked a path from our hands, up my arm, and finally to my face. “It was a mistake not to. I see that now.”
I see you.
God, I believed him. I just wasn’t sure if I was proud of what he was seeing. If he saw the whole picture, would he look at me like that?
Only one way to find out.
“The first facility I handed Dad over to almost killed him.”
His thumb stopped stroking, only for a beat, thenpressed down lightly, the smallest encouragement to keep going.
“I found somewhere close to the dance studio, to my apartment. A place most convenient forme.” I kept my gaze on our hands. I didn’t want to see his reaction to this. Not yet. “That seemed the best, right?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from me. “That memory-care facility didn’t have a bad reputation, but it didn’t have a glowing one either. But I thought I could just keep my studio, my life, almost exactly as it was, and just tuck him away nearby. Nice and tidy.”
I shook my head. At some point, he’d restarted the strokes of his thumb, but I barely felt my own body. “I thought I had a village there, in our hometown. But Dad burned some bridges before we got his diagnosis, alienating people in his life. I was too busy to notice. And when I finally got him to the doctor?” I glanced at Adair, then back down. “They’d already written him off. And sometimes… I think I wasn’t much better.”
Adair made a noise of dissent but didn’t interrupt, which was good because now that this was coming out, I didn’t want to stop.
“The week before Christmas, I got busy. We had several recitals and performances around the community, and I didn’t go see him like I should have.” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “But they said he was fine when I called, and I took them at their word.”
Finally, I looked at Adair. Looked at the man who took care of everyone around him like it was easy as breathing. “On Christmas Eve, I finally found time to visit. He was filthy, and there was nothing behind his eyes. He was just… blank. They were giving him sedatives to keep him compliant. He’d lost weight and didn’t recognize me at all when Igot there. Not even a flicker. I fucked up so bad, Adair. So bad.”
There was a sheen in his eyes, his expression matching the devastation I felt, barely tempered by the six months that’d passed since it happened.
“Come here, Indy,” he said gruffly, tugging my hand.
I wasn’t strong enough to resist the comfort. Not from him. Carefully, I moved into his side, leaning into his warmth. He released my hand and draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.
The relief was instant.
And when he took my hand again and kissed the top of my head? I’d never felt so broken or so put together. Like I’d exposed something that’d been quietly festering, only for him to give me just what I needed to repair it. And he hadn’t even needed to say a word.
But he did anyway because that was who he was.
“You’re here now,” he said quietly. “And Beck is too. You’ve done so well.”
Closing my eyes, I leaned my head on his shoulder, breathing in his words, his pine scent. “You have too,” I said eventually. “Good use of those ten minutes.”
He laughed, and I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, but eventually, I felt him tense under me. Leaning away, I watched as he shifted restlessly, his jaw flexing as if he was holding back a grimace.
“Due for your next round of meds?” I asked.
He played with the ends of my hair even as his shoulders slumped and he deflated, looking so run down. “I want to lie to you and say no,” he said with a small, strained smile. “But I think I’ve learned my lesson.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, squeezing his hand softly.
His fingers trailed down my leg as I stood up, and my breath caught as I met his eyes.
Something in my lower stomach roared to life, making itself known. Instead of walking away to get his meds like I’d planned, I held out my hand to him, letting the challenge to prove what he’d just confessed show in my eyes.
Take my hand. Let me help.
I see you, too, Adair.
One heartbeat later, he eased his foot off the pillow tower and grasped my hand. My heart raced, and I wasted no time helping him to his feet.
He grabbed his crutch, and I walked him back to his bed, going through the same motions as last night.
