Chapter Twelve

Gage

" T here you go, all finished," Doc Green says with a satisfied smile, rising from his seat.

"Thanks, Doc. How much longer do I have to keep coming here? The specialist has discharged me."

During my visit to Lady Margaret's last week, the specialist examined the burn and concluded it was healing nicely, so surgery wouldn't be required. The memory of the fire will stay with me, a physical reminder etched on my arm in the form of a long, slightly ragged pink scar.

Although I'm grateful that my arm has healed so well, it's still a struggle for me to look at the thick, wavy line that has taken over my forearm. Fortunately, the skin was successfully knitted back together with no complications, such as an infection. The blackened edges of my skin, which were a cause for concern, have completely disappeared. The wound is still very tender, and I have to be cautious to avoid accidentally bumping or scratching it. According to the doctor's advice, it may take up to a year for me to fully recover, and the pink pigment might never fade, so I'll have to accept this and adapt to the visual on my body.

"You've made great progress. We've gone from changing the dressing every three days to once every seven days to minimize infection risks. Maybe next week, we can try leaving it uncovered for an hour or two. How does that sound?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan, Doc."

"Great. So, is that everything for today, or is there anything else you'd like to ask?" He smirks at me, probably recalling my questions concerning my dick. Well, Doc, call off the troops. Problem solved.

Scratching my beard, I hesitate for a moment before finally saying, "Well... I'm sure you've heard the news, but, uh, the new guy is staying with me!"

He grins. "You know nothing is sacred in this town. So, of course I've heard."

"Yeah, well… you know how I thought I had a problem downstairs?" We both checked out my package. "Good news: it's not a problem anymore. Now, I'm facing another issue."

"And what might that be?" Doc raises a brow questioningly, the smirk remaining.

"Well... being around Ash—that's his name, by the way—triggers something in me. A strange tingling sensation that permeates my entire body. I think I might have to get some sort of pill for this. Now, I know I said the same for the last issue, but I really feel like this needs to be treated. Maybe I'm having some sort of allergic reaction. It's possible, right? To be allergic to another person?"

Doc sits back down in front of me, looking all serious. I can already tell he's about to lay some heavy news on me. Bet he's gonna say that once I hit 40, I'll start falling apart. Oh God, I can picture it now. I'll be pulling a pint of beer, and my arm will drop off. Just like that. No arm. I'll have to use my other hand to jack off.

"How often does this happen?"

"Every time I'm near him, but definitely if I make any kind of physical contact with him. When he handed me the salt last night, a jolt shot up my arm. Literally the moment his fingers made contact with mine." I recall the sensation and shiver involuntarily.

"Let me understand this correctly," Doc says, and you gotta hand it to him, because he looks very serious. "Does this occur every time you're in his presence?"

Nodding, I croak, "Yeah."

"How about if he glances in your direction? If he's in the same room but you don't make physical contact, does anything happen?"

"Yeah, Doc. It's like this indescribable prickling washes over me. My heart races and my body heats up, but I can't quite pinpoint why. Did the smoke inhalation screw up my heart, so my pulse is out of whack now? Am I gonna die? Is this where you break the news to me that I've got some incurable disease? No need to sugarcoat it, just tell me. I'm dying, right?" With my hands pressed against my temples, I mentally prepare for the weight of his diagnosis.

He rests his hand gently on my shoulder. "I'm sorry to break it to you, Gage, but you have a mild form of... feelings ."

My head jerks upward in surprise so quickly I'm sure I slipped a disk. "What?"

"I understand that it's a lot to process, and as time goes on, your symptoms may worsen, potentially impacting your entire body, possibly taking over your life. There's no need to be alarmed, though. You're not on the brink of death. It happens to people all the time."

I frown. "You're pulling my leg again, ain't ya?"

Doc erupts into uncontrollable laughter, a deep and hearty belly laugh. "Gage," he says with a warm smile. "You are truly one of my most favorite patients."

"That's it." I get up with an indignant huff. What a goddamn quack. "I ain't coming here anymore. I'll let Sherry know you're a jerk and I wanna see someone else." I'm aware I'm acting like a petulant man-child again, but where does he get off on telling me I have feelings? That's not a professional medical diagnosis. That's just… an opinion—and a wrong one to boot. Pouting and crossing my arms, I realize my mistake as I unintentionally aggravate my scar. "Fuck." I wince.

"Careful," Doc says, his voice filled with concern, as he comes over to me. It's only now that I notice his tie, which is adorned with bananas today. The kids he treats must get a kick outta seeing them. Not me, though. I don't like the doc very much today.

"I'm sorry for teasing you, but what you're going through is a normal reaction when you feel attraction for someone. Don't tell me you've never had that fluttering sensation in your chest for a partner?"

"Well, I've had my fair share of romantic encounters, but this feeling is on a whole different level. It's like nothing I've felt before," I admit reluctantly.

Doc's eyes widened in surprise. "Hmm, perhaps this new guy is someone special, then?"

Nah, that can't be the answer, can it? How is it possible for someone to make you feel so light and giddy inside with just a single glance? "Are you sure I don't require any sort of exam or pill?"

"Believe me, there is no test for this. I'm not an expert in love, but I can say with certainty that when the right person enters your life, they can make you experience emotions and physical sensations you've never felt before. Are you aware of his sexual orientation? Have you had a conversation regarding this matter?"

"Well, to be honest, we haven't really had many conversations about anything. I've been trying to avoid him because of the strange tingling. I've been afraid that I'd break out in hives or grow a horn on my forehead if I stayed close to him for too long." Doc shakes his head, chuckling patiently.

"Well, I think it's important you prioritize getting to know him since he'll be living in your home. It's essential to establish a connection before considering the possibility of falling in love, as he may not reciprocate those feelings."

"Doc, I'm not in love with him," I protest. "We just met, and besides, I've learned my lesson about commitment. It didn't work out before, and I'm not going down that road again."

"Don't let one bad experience taint your expectations for future ones. Just go with the flow and take the time to get to know him. Spend some quality time together and build a friendship. I heard he came to town with bruises, but I expect you already know that. Perhaps he could benefit from someone to talk to."

Bruises? I hadn't seen any on him, but he did arrive while I was at the lighthouse. It had been a couple of weeks since my last visit to the store when we first crossed paths. A powerful feeling of protectiveness courses through me at the thought of someone hurting Ash.

"Well, have a think about it," he says. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Lost in thought as I walk back to the bar, I replay every word Doc said. Feelings my ass. But there is something about Ash that makes me question everything I thought I knew about myself. Usually, I'm outgoing and confident around guys, but with him, I'm reserved and quiet, and that's not me. I'm also surprised I haven't been told about the bruises, with the way this town gossips. Maybe it's because I've been holed up, tending to my own wounds and cleaning my apartment that I've become inactive in my community.

Well, that stops now. I'm gonna embrace Ash and the damn tingling he evokes, following the doc's instructions and get to know him better. It's important for me to get back to my normal self when I'm around him and to stop avoiding him. I haven't even had the chance to listen to him play his guitar yet, so maybe I'll begin with that. I'm also gonna figure out the steps to fix up and open my bar again. Maybe I'll look into selling some feet pics; they're all the rage right now.

Filled with a renewed sense of optimism, I pull out my phone and send a text to Max, asking him to come over. It's been some time since I last saw him. Wonder what's been keeping him so busy?

The moment I walk into the bar through the main doors, I can almost hear the clinking of glasses and the buzz of excitement that will hopefully soon fill the air when it reopens to the public. I open some windows to let the air circulate, collect the mail, and then go upstairs. The silence suggests that Ash is probably working. It's funny how I'm already adapting to having someone in my personal space, even though he hasn't been here long. Dropping the letters on the counter, I feel the weight of them in my hands as I prepare to sort through them. Letters have a way of bringing me bad news, particularly in the form of bills that I find myself unable to pay.

The first one is junk, the next one trash—no I, don't want to change suppliers. With a sinking feeling, I open the next envelope to find my medical bill, and my heart skips a beat when I see the exorbitant total. How on earth am I going to find the funds for this? The next one is even worse—it's a scathing letter from the town's Business Owners Association, berating me for my irresponsibility and insisting that a public house should meet the highest standards for the people. I deserve the reprimand; every word they say is true. They've given me an ultimatum to either fix the place up within thirty days or they'll strip me of my business license.

All my positive energy dissipates. My legs buckle and I slide down the counter until I finally collapse onto the floor. Pulling my legs up, I rest my arms across them. With my head buried between my knees, a devastating flood of emotions takes over and I can't help but fucking cry.