by Geneva Lee
The question was meant for me, but Tara answered. To his credit, Dr. Fales ignored her, waiting for my answer.
“Yes,” I said. “They were both after fights.”
Liam’s hand gripped my fingers more tightly. I wished we were alone so I could tell him that this most recent episode was the result of a lot more than our confrontation behind Garrett’s, but I didn’t want Tara to have any more ammunition for her case against him.
“I assumed as much. College can be a stressful time period and dealing with a life-altering illness makes things even more difficult.” The doctor’s words were kind, but I balked at what he was saying.
“So college is making my Parkinson’s worse?” I asked. Tara was going to have a field day with this revelation. There was no way she’d agree to pay my tuition if the doctor told her I shouldn’t be in school.
“Life is,” the doctor corrected.
“Would it be best for her to transfer to a smaller school?” Tara asked. “Maybe one closer to home?”
“I don’t want to transfer.” I glared at her, but she didn’t bother to look at me.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Jillian is going to encounter stress every day of her life unless she spends everyday eating chocolate in a bubble bath.”
“And even then my toes would get all pruney,” I pointed out.
Dr. Fales nodded, a grin creeping over his face. “My point exactly. You can’t escape life. Jillian needs to learn to cope with stress.”
“And how can she do that?” Liam spoke up before my mother could open her mouth.
“Very basic yoga would help. Nothing too trying of her joints and muscles. Very light stretching and relaxation.”
I’d tried to get into yoga before but couldn’t get past sitting around with my eyes closed. No matter how hard I tried my mind was never clear. My head was about as organized as my closet, which wasn’t saying much.
“You’re going to fix her with yoga?” Tara didn’t bother to hide her disdain at this prospect.
“Your daughter isn’t broken, Mrs. Nichols. I’m only looking for ways to help her live her life more dynamically.”
I made a mental note to get Dr. Fales's information before I left the hospital. He was clearly the perfect choice for my care. He listened to me, and refused to take any shit from Tara. It was a win-win.
“I can help you with yoga,” Liam said. He smiled reassuringly at me, but I had to smother a giggle. He rolled his eyes as if to say dirty girl.
“There’s no medication that you can give her?” Tara asked the doctor, turning the conversation back to what my mother saw as practical solutions for my problem.
“I’m getting to that.” Dr. Fales kept his voice even, but there’s was an edge of assertiveness to his words. Yet another reason to take him on for my full-time care: he knew how to handle Tara as well. “This needs to be a holistic program if it’s going to benefit your daughter, but I would like to try a new drug. It's still in preliminary trials, so we'll have to apply for it."
"You mean it's untested?" Tara's voice pitched up, showing her disapproval.
"It is, but the results we're seeing are astounding, especially with Jillian's age group. It can slow the progression rate to under 20% of the average rate."
I perked up a little. I wasn't eager to start a new drug, but none of the ones I'd been given held such promise. "I don't mind being a lab rat with stats like that."
"I mind it," Tara said in a firm tone. She planted her hands on her hips, daring me to question her.
But I wasn't about to roll over on this one. "I assume it's my decision if I want to take the drug, Dr. Fales?"
"As an adult in charge of your own medical care, yes."
He just had to add the in charge of my own care bit. I wouldn't put it past Tara to get a court order to oversee my care. tk
"Regardless," he continued. "We'll need to apply to the study. It could take a few weeks. Until then I'm changing your prescriptions slightly, adding an SSRI, and advising you seriously consider yoga or meditation."
Liam rubbed my hand, and I looked to him, my eyes meeting with an encouraging smile.
"I can do that," I said. I could. It would mean less time going out, but I'd already significantly reduced my partying this semester, and going out wasn't going to be any fun if I wound up locked up on a bathroom floor every night.
"Then I suppose my opinion on this doesn't matter?" There was a hint of bitterness in Tara's tone. I couldn't help but think that she was less concerned over the suggestions of Dr. Fales and more upset that she wasn't the one making the decisions.
"It actually doesn't," I said. My hands clenched into fists and I tried to keep myself calm, but anger was rising hot in my chest, and I wasn't going to be able to keep my words from growing fiery if she didn't drop this soon.
"I will not be spoken to like this, Jillian," she warned me.
"And I won't be treated like a child. I've been managing this disease for two years." I was getting louder and I didn't care. If she was going to treat me like I was still ten years old, I would show her I wasn't. "I can make these decisions."
"And what proof do you have of that?" she asked me. "Because you're in the hospital! I don't think you're up to taking care of yourself."
"I just need to be doing more," I argued. "I haven't tried yoga or SSRIs yet."
"I don't think they'll make much of a difference."
Now she was just being petulant. "I'm the one who has to live with this," I yelled at her. "When the doctor talks about disease progression, he's talking about my body!"
Dr. Fales stepped between us. "I understand that this is an emotional decision—"
"Do not condescend to me," Tara snapped.
"Mom, he is a doctor. Maybe you should listen to him."
"Jillian is in her because her stress level exacerbated her condition," Dr. Fales said in a smooth, soft voice. "As her physician, I need to manage her care. I will have to ask you to leave if we can't have a calm discussion of her options."
"There's no need to ask me to leave." Tara stooped over the edge of the couch and grabbed her purse. "I can see I'm not needed here."
I didn't make a move to stop here and even Dr. Fales stepped aside as she stormed out of the room. But even though she left, a heaviness settled over my chest making it hard to breathe. I tried to force the air in and out of my lungs but with each inhale it became harder to exhale.
"Calm down, Jillian," Dr. Fales ordered. He moved to my side and brought an oxygen mask to my face. "This is exactly what we need to avoid."
I nodded, letting the oxygen seep into my lungs. A deep calm settled over me slowly. Liam kept his hand knit through mine tightly, whispering reassurances into my ear.
"Is she..." Dr. Fales hesitated as though he wasn't sure he should ask this question. "Is she the reason you had the episode?"
I shook my head. It would be easy to blame Tara, and she'd certainly contributing a fair amount of crazy to my life, but I would be lying if I laid it all at her feet.
"She doesn't help," Liam said for me. "But Jillian's had some trouble with school, and we had been fighting."
"All couples fight," Dr. Fales said. "You two should take a communications class or talk to a couples counselor. It will help you learn to work through your arguments without it causing too much stress—for either of you."
Liam smirked a little as he nodded. "I know just the person to talk to."
I made a mental note to tell him there was no way I was going to spill all of this to Markson, especially when I was currently failing his class. But I also knew that Dr. Fales was right. I was going to have to learn to not get so upset or risk hurting everyone around me, even myself.
"I'll leave you two alone," Dr. Fales said. It was well-past visiting hours, but he merely smiled at Liam as he made his way toward the door.
"Doctor?" Liam called. "When will Jillian be released?"
Fales stopped at the door and considered the question
. "I see no reason we can't let you go in the morning. It will take a while to get approved for the drug trial, but I'll want to see you once a week while we work these new medications into your schedule. I'm sure you have coursework you need to deal with"
I nodded even though just the thought of facing the real world and my professors was enough to set off my stress level again. I pushed the panic down and focused on the fact that I would be home soon. The rest I could deal with later.
"Here that, chicken?" Liam whispered in my ear. "I'm taking you home."
I liked the sound of that.
Chapter 25
Liam treated me like glass when we reached my apartment the following morning. I’d been living with my disease for years, and I was well aware that no one was going to break me. Still this was hardly knew. Jess and Cassie had tiptoed around me after the diagnosis. My mother acted like I might shatter at any moment. It was like they thought it was helping me somehow. But all it did was make me feel as though I really was broken. If everyone thought I was weak, was I? I’d answered that question for myself long ago with a resounding hell no. But here I was at square one again. This time with Liam.
“Let me,” he said, grabbing my purse and juggling it with my hospital discharge paperwork, a pharmacy bag, and our take-out order.
“I’ve got it.” I took it back and ran up the stairs before he could offer to carry me, too.
I knew his concern was coming from a good place, which was the only thing keeping me from screaming.
The apartment was quiet. Jess was out, and the place was relatively clean. It looked suspiciously like she cleaned while I was gone.
“Whoa! Is this your place?” Liam said as he dropped various bags and folders on the kitchen bar.
“Apparently when I’m not here the house elf comes,” I said.
My room was another story. It was still a disaster from the night we wrecked it getting ready for girls’ night. There was a pile of scarves on the bed. Boots strewn across the floor along with bras and underwear.
“I don’t think the house elf likes you.” Liam came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Remind me to give him a sock,” I said. I turned in his arms, happy to finally have him alone. The hospital really wasn’t the best place to kiss and make-up. I brought my lips to his, but I sensed hesitation as I tried to deepen the kiss.
“You need to rest,” he said in a soft voice as he withdrew from me.
“I have literally done nothing but sit on my ass for most of the week.” I stuck my butt out at him. “It’s probably gone flat.”
“I assure you that’s not the case.” Liam bit his lip, but then he shook his head. “Lie down and I’ll bring in the food.”
“Screw the food,” I said. Ever since we left the hospital, I’d felt frenzied, so full of energy that I thought I might explode. “We can eat later.”
“It will get cold.” Liam backed up and then rushed out of the room.
He wasn’t going to give up on this resting thing, which was very bad news. The good news was that I had secret weapons of my own. I pulled off the t-shirt and jeans I was wearing until I was down to boy shorts and a sports bra. Not terribly sexy. Tugging the bra off, I had just enough time to find a thin white tank top. The ensemble had the benefit of making me look innocent as though maybe I was going to heed his advice and climb into bed. But there was also no way he was going to be able to resist it. I didn’t feel bad for my trickery. After all, I’d made Jess haul up a razor, shaving cream, and waxing strips just for this homecoming. I wasn’t about to let Liam derail that with unnecessary concern.
But when he came in carrying boxes of Chinese with chopsticks sticking out, he barely seemed to notice that I’d changed.
“I told you that I don’t eat in my bed,” I reminded him even as I climbed in and propped a pillow behind my back.
“I thought I very successfully broke that rule,” Liam said, handing me my order of Lo Mein.
“I will allow you to make your case one more time,” I said in a solemn voice. A small shiver ran up my spine at the thought of ice cream in bed.
“Eat your food,” he said with a laugh. “I can’t believe you don’t have a t.v. in here.”
“Once again, bed is for sleeping in.” I outlined a square in the air with my chopsticks as I spoke. “And for sex.”
“And for eating,” he added.
I groaned and threw a noodle at him.
He caught it in his mouth, saving my sheets. “No wonder you don’t eat in your bed.”
I was getting nowhere with him unless frustration was an actual point on a map. It had the unwanted effect of allowing my mind to wander to all of the things I had to deal with starting tomorrow, including begging Professor Markson to let me drop late from Interpersonal Communications.
“I have to talk to Markson tomorrow.” It felt better to say it out loud like I was working through the stages of acceptance. I had to accept it was going to be awkward and embarrassing.
“I’m sure he’ll let you make up your work,” he said. “He’s a cool guy. He asked me about you.”
“Oh yeah, what did you say?”
“The usual—you broke my heart, you were amazing in bed, I wanted to make you waffles every morning for the rest of my life.”
Professor Markson wasn’t even here and I wanted to crawl under a pillow and die.
“I’m kidding,” Liam said, chuckling at the horrified look frozen on my face. “He asked why you were skipping class.”
“And you said?”
“I told him I didn’t know.” Liam shrugged, but there was a note of apology in his voice.
“It’s cool. I have doctor's notes.” But that wasn’t entirely true. I had doctor’s notes that explained my last week of absences not the ones leading up to it. I wasn’t sure if I should lie or just admit to Markson that I was struggling with seeing Liam after my episode. It was all medically related after all, but I knew deep down that I’d been skipping classes for reasons that had nothing to do with my Parkinson’s.
"You just need to go in and talk to him," Liam said.
"I will," I said, but I didn't even convince myself. "If he lets me make it up, will you still be my partner or did you find someone else?"
"I'm chuffed that you asked," he said. "There was never anyone else."
His words were husky, and I seized on the moment, spurred not only by what he had said but also the delicious ache spreading through my chest. I wanted to feel it explode through me as I shattered against him. Liam could break me in one way, and he was the only one who could put me back together. I set my noodles on my bedside table. He watched me warily as I climbed onto his lap and pushed his food away.
"I've had enough food for now," I said, drawing his face up to mine.
"You've barely eaten anything." But his eyes closed as he spoke, and I knew I'd won.
Our lips crushed together. His breath was spicy and mine was hot as our bodies entwined. Liam's hands slid under my shirt, cradling my back. My hands looped around his neck and I clenched my fingers into his hair. I wanted more of him. I wanted all of him. I was hungry for this moment as though it was the first time for us. For me. There was a desperate rawness to our kiss that spoke of discovery.
Even when I was with him before, I was only half in, but all that had changed now. There were no secrets left between us now and that liberated us as we clung to one another, exploring each other. Liam tugged my shirt over my head and I felt vulnerable and safe in the same moment. His eyes stayed on my face as he ran his fingers from my shoulders to my stomach in languorous strokes.
"You're perfect, chicken," he said bringing his mouth to trace whispers over my breasts.
Even though I knew the exact opposite, the truth of it broke over me and for a split second I could see myself how Liam saw me.
"Not to argue with you, but you're the perfect one." Liam had told me plenty of times that I was beautiful, but I'd never actually reciprocat
ed. I'd never really admitted to him how much he meant to me.
"Competitive much?" he said with a sigh.
My attempts to give compliments were as clumsy as my ability to accept them.
"Liam." I paused, lowering my eyes as I tried to find the rights words. But ultimately they were there all along. My eyes fluttered back up to his. "I love you."
He pulled me to him so that are noses were nearly touching. "I love you, Jillian Nichols."
And then I was on my back as he brought his body over mine. There was a fumble of clothes and kisses and whispered promises until we came together slowly. We lingered in each other, and I was aware of every slight movement. How his breath hitched after a low moan. The soft stubble curving along his jawline. And his hands on my body—safe and steady.
Liam shifted onto his knees and drew my legs around his waist as he pushed deeper into me. The pleasure bordered on pain, but I didn't want him to stop. In this moment, I was certain that we were closer than anyone in history. Splayed across the bed, I stared at him, marveling at the cut of his body, the taut coil of his muscles as he held me firmly against him.
This was the man I loved, a fact that trembled up my limbs and set fire to my skin. The love—the realization of it—shattered across my body in quivers that built into a torrent. His skin on my skin, his hands on my hips, his name on my tongue.
We collapsed together in a heap of slick skin and tangled limbs, but neither of us pulled away. We laid there, entwined with each other. In this moment, I lived a lifetime.
After a few minutes, he pulled away long enough to draw my sheet over us. It was ordinary gesture, but it felt like more. It felt like comfort and home and promises. I turned into him, and we laid, watching each other, not quite touching, without speaking.
A million questions flitted through my head, but I ignored them. I'd spent the last two years of my life trying to escape the future by pretending to live in the moment. I'd be running for so long that I didn't even see it until now. This precise second was the only one that mattered.