Just Physical

by Jae

  Jill shook her head. When the nurse walked away, she watched the steady drip of the clear liquid and imagined what it would do to her body. What she’d heard about the side effects of corticosteroids wasn’t too promising, but she’d deal with those if it meant she could walk out of here without having to rely on a wheelchair.

  “First time?”

  A voice from the recliner next to her made Jill look up and into the friendly face of a young girl. She barely looked old enough to have her driver’s license, but there was an expression in her eyes that told Jill she’d already seen and endured more than others twice her age.

  “Uh, excuse me?”

  The girl smiled over at her from her reclined position. “Is this your first time for that?” She nodded toward Jill’s IV pole.

  Jill nodded. “First—and last, hopefully.”

  The teenager lifted her water bottle. “Here’s to that. Carol,” she pointed to a middle-aged woman across the aisle, who was trying to knit without moving her hand with the IV too much, “calls it ‘PMS in a bag.’”

  Jill had to chuckle. “Why’s that?”

  The girl just grinned. “You’re about to find out.”

  “Hi, Mom,” Crash said, trying to sound cheerful as she picked up the phone.

  “What’s wrong?” her mother asked immediately.

  Tears sprung to Crash’s eyes, and she dashed them away with her free hand. Great. You’re supposed to be a tough stuntwoman. But she didn’t feel very tough right now; she felt helpless, worried, and hurt. “It’s Jill,” she got out. “She relapsed.”

  “Oh God. I’m so sorry, Kristine. How is she doing?”

  Crash snorted. “I wish I knew. I haven’t seen or heard from her since yesterday. She’s not even answering the phone.”

  “Is she in the hospital?” her mother asked.

  “No. She’s getting steroid treatments for three days, but she’s allowed to go home after each one,” Crash said. “I wouldn’t even know that if Lauren—her best friend’s girlfriend—didn’t keep me posted. She’s totally shutting me out.”

  “Maybe that’s just how she deals with things. Your father is like that too when he’s sick.”

  “This is MS, Mom, not the flu! She can’t deal with it on her own.”

  “As hard as it is for you to accept, it’s her choice,” her mother said.

  Pressure constricted Crash’s chest and made her temples pound. She barely resisted the urge to hurl the phone against the wall. “But I love her, dammit!”

  Only silence filtered through the line.

  Shit. She hadn’t meant to reveal that, knowing her mother viewed her interest in Jill with a wary eye. “Mom…”

  “It’s okay,” her mother said. “It’s not like I didn’t already suspect. Normally, when you call home, all you talk about is the exciting stunts you get to do. But in the last few weeks, you couldn’t stop talking about Jill.”

  Crash rubbed her heated face. Had she really mentioned her that often?

  “Believe me, I know what it’s like to be in love. It can be the most wonderful feeling in the world—but also the most awful one, if the person you love doesn’t return your feelings…or if she’s not doing so well.” Her mother sniffled. “I don’t want you to keep getting hurt whenever she has a relapse.”

  “I can’t help it, Mom,” Crash whispered. “It’s not like I can just shut off my feelings.”

  A sigh reverberated through the phone. “No, I guess you can’t.”

  Crash let her head rest against the back of the couch and stared at the wall. “Jill apparently doesn’t have a problem shutting off her feelings. I really thought we were beyond that. After the wrap party on Saturday, she finally agreed to give a relationship with me a chance, but now she’s back to not accepting my help, much less talking about any future we might have as a couple. I think she wants to end it for good.”

  Her mother was silent for several seconds; only the sound of her breathing could be heard. “So that’s it?” she finally asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re just going to accept her decision and give up? That’s not the kind of daughter I raised.”

  Crash jumped up from the couch and started to pace the length of her studio apartment. “What am I supposed to do? Kidnap her and make her listen?”

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “I thought you were against me getting involved with Jill?”

  Her mother sighed. “I have nothing against Jill. She’s a great actress, and I’m sure she’s a wonderful woman, but I’ve seen what MS can do…not just to the people who have it, but to their caregivers too.”

  Crash dropped back onto the couch. “I know. But that wouldn’t matter to me. I mean, it matters, but not as much as being with Jill.”

  “That’s why I’m telling you to fight for her.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, Crash nodded to herself. Her mother was right. She was done honoring Jill’s feelings and letting Jill push her away. Now it was time to get Jill to listen to what she wanted. “I will,” she said. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Anything for my favorite daughter.”

  The old joke made Crash smile. “I’m your only daughter.”

  “That doesn’t matter. And, Kristine? Keep me posted.”

  “I will.” Crash ended the call, already thinking about how she could make the most stubborn woman on earth talk to her.

  Jill found out why the infusions were called “PMS in a bag” on the second day of the treatment. Good thing she wasn’t driving herself. The way she felt, she would have gotten out of the car and strangled several of the drivers in the dense LA traffic on her way home.

  The mood swings she experienced were worse than PMS. Earlier today, she’d felt energized, almost giddy, and had talked the poor nurses’ ears off. Now, as she sweated in the backseat of a cab despite its air-conditioning and stared at the stop-and-go traffic behind a haze of car exhaust, she was so grouchy that the cabbie had stopped trying to talk to her. Her nagging hunger didn’t help her mood either.

  Apparently, that was another common side effect of the corticosteroids—she was so hungry that she immediately devoured every bit of food in sight, despite the awful metallic taste in her mouth.

  Well, at least the steroids’ more desired effects had also begun to set in. Her left foot was still dragging a bit, but she could make her way around with the help of a quad cane and no longer needed the hated wheelchair or a walker.

  When the cab approached her house, she pulled the remote control for the gate from her pocket and then frowned.

  An SUV was blocking the gate.

  Who the hell…? Wait a minute! She knew that midnight-blue SUV! Her heart started to beat faster. Oh no. She didn’t want Crash to see her like this—barely getting by on her granny cane with its four rubber-tipped feet, her face flushed and puffy from the steroids. But she couldn’t stay in the cab forever.

  “Just let me out here.” She pressed the fare and a generous tip into the cabbie’s hands.

  He got out and opened the door for her.

  It was a bit of a struggle, but she finally climbed out of the car.

  As the cab pulled away, Jill tightened her grip on the four-pronged cane and hobbled toward the gate, hoping to make it past the SUV.

  No such luck. The driver’s side door opened, and Crash got out.

  Seeing her brought a mix of emotions, pleasure and pain. She longed to sink into her arms and cry, but Jill shoved those feelings back.

  Crash approached Jill slowly, almost hesitantly, and held out a bottle like a peace offering.

  “What’s that?” Jill heard herself ask. No. Don’t talk to her. Send her away.

  “Chocolate milk,” Crash said with a hint of the grin Jill loved so much. “According to George, it helps with that metallic t
aste in your mouth. Lauren said they put you on corticosteroids, so I asked George about the side effects. Lauren also told me when you’d be back from the infusion center.”

  Great. Jill gritted her teeth.

  “Don’t be angry with Lauren. She and Grace are just worried about you. And so am I.” The expression in Crash’s eyes was so soft and tender that Jill had to look away. “So? How about that chocolate milk? I also have some lemon drops. I hear they help too.”

  Jill bit her lip and hobbled past her without accepting the bottle. “No, thanks. I don’t have a metallic taste in my mouth.”

  Crash followed her. “Okay. Then I’ll drink the chocolate milk while you tell me how you’re doing. I called you yesterday and this morning, but you didn’t pick up, so I had to resort to this.” She gestured at her SUV blocking the access to the house.

  Jill paused in front of the wrought-iron gate. She kept her gaze on the number pad and didn’t face Crash. “Please, Crash, go home. I want to be alone right now.”

  “Is that really what you want?” Hurt and doubt vibrated in Crash’s voice, nearly making Jill turn around and hug her.

  She braced herself. “I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Look at me.”

  Willing herself not to look at Crash, Jill struggled to focus on the number pad. She reached out to tap the security code into the panel, but her fingers were trembling too much. Damn.

  Gently, Crash gripped her shoulder and pulled her around, keeping one hand on Jill to steady her. With her free hand, she reached up and ran her knuckles down the side of Jill’s face in a caress so tender that it made Jill ache much more than the steroids or the MS ever could.

  She leaned into the contact for a second, then pulled away and desperately shook her head. “Don’t you understand, Crash? I’m not a person you should get involved with. It was foolish to think otherwise, and I’m sorry if I gave you false hope.”

  Crash didn’t move an inch. Her blue eyes were stormy like the ocean during a wind-whipped, cloudy day. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. I don’t care about the MS.”

  “But I do, dammit!” She shoved Crash back with all her strength, nearly falling in the process. At the last moment, she caught herself with one hand on the brick wall next to her and the other clutching the cane. “Go, and don’t come back!”

  She whirled around, not wanting to see the expression on Crash’s face. It broke her heart—both their hearts, probably—but it was better to end it now, once and for all, instead of prolonging the hope and the pain. She remembered only now that she still had the remote control in her pocket. With one press of the button, the gate sprang open. Jill stumbled through. A sob rose up her chest as she reached back and pulled the gate closed, forever shutting Crash out of her life, but she choked it back. Inside. Not here.

  She didn’t dare peek through the iron bars to see if Crash had left. It would hurt too much to see her standing there—and even more if she’d left already.

  Maybe it was a blessing that she needed all of her focus to make it down the uneven driveway without falling.

  Something—someone—landed on the gravel next to her.

  Jill whirled around and lost her balance.

  Crash caught her and pulled her against her chest, steadying her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jill shouted, caught between wanting to hit her and wanting to hug her.

  “Climbing your wall. I heard Grace and Lauren did it once.”

  She took a tighter grip on her cane and pulled away from the tempting heat of Crash’s body. “That’s not funny!”

  Crash shook her head, her expression sober. “I’m not trying to be. I don’t remember ever being so serious about anything in my life.”

  Tears burned in Jill’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Please, Crash. You have to go. I can’t do this.”

  “I will,” Crash said. Her voice was rough. “But first, I want to cash in that rain check you owe me.”

  “What? What rain check?”

  “Remember that day I helped you out of the stunt harness and you invited me to Greek takeout in your trailer? Okay, I invited myself, but we had a nice conversation. You asked me about my real name and how I got into stunts, and you promised that I’d get to ask you two questions in return. Well, I never got to ask that second question.”

  Jill squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “I remember.” Only too well, actually. She could still feel Crash’s fingers on her as she’d opened the stunt harness’s Velcro straps, and she could still see how warm Crash’s blue eyes had been while she talked about her parents and her five brothers.

  “You gave me a rain check on that second question, and now I want to cash it in.”

  The only thing Jill wanted was to escape into the house, but she owed Crash that much. Her throat was raw with pain, so she said just one word. “Ask.”

  Crash gently touched two fingers to Jill’s chin and tilted her head up so they were looking into each other’s eyes. Her fingers were clammy and trembled. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid,” Jill said as if out of reflex, but even to herself, she sounded like an actress who had over-rehearsed her lines—not convincing at all. For the first time, she admitted that yes, she was afraid. Scared to death, actually.

  “For once in your life, forget your pride and tell me the truth,” Crash said. “I love you, dammit, and I think you love me too, so why do you keep pushing me away?”

  They both froze and stared at each other.

  Now the tears Jill had been trying to hold back spilled over. One ran down her cheek. She had known or at least suspected for a while that Crash loved her, but hearing her say it took her breath away. If they had met two years ago, those three little words from Crash would have made her jump into her arms and cover her face with kisses, but now they wrapped around her heart like a fist and squeezed painfully.

  “I didn’t mean to say it now, but I’m not taking it back,” Crash said, her posture rigid and her head held up high.

  “Don’t do this,” Jill whispered. “Don’t do this to yourself. I don’t want you to have to go through this too.”

  “Don’t you see? It’s already too late. I’m in this with you, heart, body, and soul. There’s no such thing as keeping things just physical when you’re in love.”

  Jill stared at her through the veil of tears.

  Crash—the woman who fearlessly jumped from buildings—was trembling. Jill’s throat tightened when she saw the tears glittering in Crash’s eyes.

  “I’m in love with you too,” Jill whispered. Maybe it was cruel, but she wanted to say it just once. When Crash reached for her, she struggled backward, heavily balancing on the quad cane. “But that doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s all that matters,” Crash said. “We agreed to give a relationship between us a chance, and I’m not letting you back out now.”

  “That was before…” Jill gestured down at her leg. “Before this damn relapse.”

  “The way I see it, the MS is like a fire stunt. Okay, you got burned. So what? I know it hurts and you’re afraid of it happening again. But you can’t let it stop you from getting back on the proverbial horse, or you’ll live in fear for the rest of your life. You have to plan ahead for everything bad that could happen, but then trust your team and take the leap.”

  Jill dashed the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her eyes. She sank onto a nearby aluminum garden chair, no longer able to stand. “Don’t you think I want to? But I can’t do it. I have no right to be in a relationship.”

  Crash looked at her. “What about my right to be in a relationship?”

  Jill squeezed her eyes shut, unable to look at the pain on Crash’s face. “Crash…”

  Gravel crunched, and then Crash lightly touched Jill’s knee—the one on her good s
ide.

  Hesitantly, Jill opened her eyes.

  “All this time, I let you be the one to make all the decisions. But if you want to be equal, you can’t have all the power. You don’t get to make the decisions alone. I made my decision. I know I won’t be any happier without the MS if it means I’ll be without you.”

  “That’s what you think now, but how can you know that’s how it’ll always be?”

  Crash shrugged. “I can’t. The future doesn’t come with any guarantees—and that’s not just true for people with MS. That’s where trust comes in. I have trust in us to make the best of whatever life throws at us.” She tilted her head and studied Jill. “But maybe that has been your issue all along. I don’t think you ever trusted anyone enough to really let yourself need that person.”

  Each word pierced Jill like painful little darts. She shook her head to stop them, but they kept coming.

  “That’s what you’re so afraid of, isn’t it? What if you let yourself rely on someone and then that person one day walks away?”

  Abandoning her tight grip on the cane, Jill put her elbows on her thighs and covered her face with her hands. But she couldn’t stop the sobs that shook her or the tears that kept falling, no matter how often she wiped her eyes.

  Crash shoved the now free-standing cane out of the way, knelt on the gravel, and wrapped both arms around her. One of her hands came to rest on the back of Jill’s head, cradling her protectively, while her other hand rubbed soothing circles along Jill’s back. She held her close without saying a word, not telling her that everything would be fine or that she should stop crying.

  Not that Jill could have stopped, even if she’d wanted. It was as if Crash’s words had put a hole in her chest, and now all the bottled-up pain came spilling out, like an unstoppable flood.

  Her tears soaked Crash’s shirt where she had her face buried against Crash’s shoulder. It was a bit humiliating, but mostly it was freeing. She clung to Crash until the storm of her emotions passed and she became aware of how uncomfortable their positions were.

  Sniffing, she pulled back. “God, I hate crying. I need a tissue.”