10. One Foot in Front of the Other
10
One Foot in Front of the Other
Dax
Wednesday, May 10 th
6:43 a.m.
As I run, the cathartic high of my feet pounding against the pavement drowns out the lingering depressing thoughts from my pointless conversation with Liam about his appointment.
For a few seconds.
Maybe I'm making a bigger deal out of this than it is. But probably not. Liam is a liar. A damn good one at that—always cold, strange appetite, sleeping all the time— How did I miss the signs?
The torture of not knowing what to do is killing me. By Monday, we'll have more answers. And he can't hide from me anymore.
I repeat the mantra to the succinct rhythm of my footfalls.
Can't hide. Can't hide. Can't hide.
My mastiff, Axel, pulls on his leash as we round the last familiar bend before our cooldown. The amber hue of the sun cresting over the skyscrapers drowns out the morning haze as it filters through the canopy of trees.
Axel gets a second wind when our bench comes into view, pulling me the last hundred yards to rest. I unlatch his leash, and he barrels into the pond beside us, lapping up the water. He had no idea what type of torture he was getting himself into when he joined me for our morning run.
I push myself to the point of exhaustion. Every day, rain or shine. But today is different. It's not helping like usual. No matter the torture I put myself through, it does nothing to clear my mind. The more I try to ignore it, the more it suffocates me. I pace around the bench, hopping from foot to foot as I shake out my hands. The thrumming in my chest warns me to chill out before my heart explodes.
And I ignore it because I'm running out of creative ways to punish myself.
Bad things happen for a reason. And when it comes to Liam, I am the reason. My choices. My mistakes. I brought this on us. My thoughts aren't rational, but there's something about how trouble seems to follow me that ends up bad for anyone involved.
Being myself is exhausting.
No one to remind me of my failures and lack of awareness.
Self-loathing can keep a person busy, especially after all I've put Liam through and his concern over how I react to things.
I lie on the bench and shield my eyes with the back of my arm. I gasp for air while my muscles scream in protest.
Stars swim behind my eyelids. And I'm relieved by the momentary escape from reality.
The muffled ring of my phone brings me back from the brink of a blackout. I let it ring again, trying to get a hold of myself before I answer.
I bring the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"What the actual fuck?"
I figured it would be my manager, but there's no appeasing Bree, so I don't try. "I forgot."
"To call me?"
"Yes."
"That's no excuse."
"I was busy."
"With what?" There's the telltale rustle of what could only be a bag of her favorite cereal—Lucky Charms.
I think back to the last time I was with a friend and how easy it was to use her body as a distraction. The fact that my run didn't clear my mind like it usually does is a bit of a disappointment. "Who?" I correct, knowing damn well she hates when I tease her like this. I instantly regret it, knowing I'm an idiot and need to make better split-minute decisions before I speak.
"Let me stop you there," she says, with an eye roll I can hear through the phone. "I don't care. Why are you breathing like that? No, never mind, I don't want to know."
I bite back a laugh. "Running. I was fucking running."
"That makes me feel better." There's a hint of relief in her tone. "I swear you only think with the head between your legs."
I drop my feet to the ground and yank my tee over my head, using it to wipe the dripping sweat from my face. When I pull it away, a petite blonde I've never seen before jogs toward me, trying to catch my eye. The sight of a pair of bouncing double D's catches my attention as she draws closer. I watch, in awe and give her a tight-lipped smile. I need a distraction, and I'm sure her body could do wonders to take my mind off things, but I'm not in the mood to make nice. She grins and I drop my gaze.
"—one simple task. Are you listening to me? This isn't funny."
My brain screeches to a halt. No, I'm not. And no, it isn't.
Axel shakes, and water sprays all over me before he circles several times and sprawls into a wet lump beside the bench.
"Yes, damn," I lie. Better to go with the flow than get my ass ripped. I don't have the energy to figure out what Bree's talking about. When she's on one of her rants, I stop listening.
"If you don't show up, they'll stop requesting you."
Work. Of course it has to do with work.
"I'll be there." I have no idea where there is, but if I listen for long enough, Bree will tell me again. It's not about the end of the month photoshoot, but she always has something new on the horizon. I tune out a good part of our one-sided conversation as I plot the route to the nearest water fountain. My legs refuse to cooperate, and I stay seated.
"What are you going to do?"
That's a good question. One I've been thinking about since Liam told me . Wait. What are we talking about?
"I'll be there." I go with the last thing I remember. Definitely my safest bet.
She groans into the phone. "You already said that. You're not listening."
"I'm a selfish asshole. We know this."
"That's beside the point. Focus, Dax. Switch gears—We're moving to Liam ." She enunciates his name, each syllable rolling off her tongue. She doesn't miss a beat and tells me what she thinks we should do, like it's a goddamn superpower.
It hits me. She knows far too much. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Dumb question." The sound of fingers flying across a keyboard gets me to focus. "You better not complicate things."
"What are you talking about? I would never risk Liam."
She chuckles. "Need me to spell it out?"
"I'll behave."
"I've heard that before."
"This is different." I have no interest in fucking things up. "I wouldn't risk anything that has to do with Liam."
She coughs and sputters. The sound of a drowning person replaces the slurping noise Bree was making before as if she were searching for air.
"You okay?"
"Fuck you." Comes out as fragmented garble as she tries to get control of herself.
"I'll take that as a yes." Now that I don't feel like I'm going to pass out, I get Axel back on his leash and walk the last mile out of the park. Going to the apartment is faster than backtracking to the nearest fountain.
"I don't get it . . ." She trails off. Once again, I've lost track of the appropriate response to our one-sided conversation.
I'm sure this is one of those moments where I can stay quiet, and it would be the smart move, but her comment piqued my interest. Something tells me it has to do with my supposed magnetism for disaster.
True to form, I take the bait. "Get what?"
"Why do you guys act like it's no big deal to hook up with anything with legs?" She once again switches gears, and I wish I hadn't asked.
"That's an insult." I'm not sure when our conversation took a turn for the worse, but my sex life is not a topic she gets to breach.
"It's the truth."
"I'm selective."
"Lies."
Axel knows our route with no need for guidance. He leads me to the sidewalk outside the park. We stop with the crowd at the intersection.
"You need to give me more credit than that. I'm not Garrett." Why do I always get lumped in with him? He's the one with the bad reputation. Sure, girls throw themselves at us like candy, but only Garrett takes them up on every offer. She expects us models to play nice, but having Garrett around is never an imposition. He may be a disrespectful asshat when it comes to women, but he's had my back for as long as I can remember. He's also gotten me into more trouble than I care to remember.
"I think it's a model thing." She ignores my comment, trying to make sense of why us guys only tend to think with our dicks.
"Or it's an asshole thing."
"That too." She is paying attention.
The crosswalk light changes and Axel leads us through the crowd, always needing to be in the front. "It hurts that you think so little of me."
"You don't have the best track record." She once again slides in a quip about my lack of favorable statistics when it comes to my sex life.
I Google more about Dr. Fields while I halfway listen to Bree and stop at the next intersection. The top links lead to rave reviews and recommendations. The third page I click on describes the cancers she treats. I scan through the paragraphs.
A humming fills my ears as I stare at the list of things to expect with some of the worst cancers imaginable—the ones Dr. Fields specializes in—and the words blur. I have a new appreciation for the urgency of getting Liam's chemo started. But are we ready for this? My eyes glaze over the same paragraph again when Bree clears her throat, pulling me from my one-track mind.
"I'm being serious."
"Me too." I don't have the energy to deal with any more of her shit.
"The last thing we need is for you to fuck this up. Liam needs the best. Don't even think about getting involved with his doctor."
"I won't." I press my finger on the screen to end the call while trying not to crush the phone.
I. Don't. Want. To. Think. I crave the silence.
Inhale. Exhale.
Nothing but nothingness.
Shit. I came to run my thoughts away. Forget how the last few days have changed my life, and end up frustrated, confused, and insulted.
Axel drags me to the entrance of our apartment, and I gaze at the massive tower. I'm not ready to see Liam. I need to get control of myself.
What are we going to do?
Not having answers proves I've already failed him. And it's only the beginning.
The apartment complex doors glide open as a couple comes out, smiles, and continues with their day as if they don't have a care in the world. Our lives are crumbling around us, and the rest of society gets to go on with their life like nothing is happening.
Why do bad things happen to good people?
The sound of the doors opening again draws my attention, and I get a megawatt grin from Liam. I wish there were a way to bottle Liam's optimism and sprinkle that shit on myself like confetti. The dark cloud of guilt hovering over me isn't his fault but seeing him act like everything's normal messes with my head.
Bane, his bulldog, wiggles his way over to us, excited about his brief escape from the apartment.
"It's a nice day." Liam's exaggerated play on nonchalance doesn't go unnoticed. He claps me on both shoulders after ruffling Axel's ears, and the two dogs start to wrestle. "Figured Bane could use some air. We're headed to the park so he can stretch his legs. Wanna come?"
"I'll catch you in a little bit. I need to take care of some things, take a shower."
"You okay? You're looking a little pale." He averts his gaze and walks backward toward the intersection, shielding his eyes from the sun with Bane in tow. Axel yips as they back away, pulling at the leash because he hates to miss out on anything.
"I need water." I step toward him, watching the do not cross sign flash above his head.
See the car.
Liam grins. "You sure you don't want to come?"
Words freeze on the tip of my tongue.
His mouth is moving, but I can't make out what he's saying.
Blood rushes through my ears.
He takes another step backward.
There's screeching.
And I crumble to my knees.
The second Liam notices the car is one second too late.
One second too late for me to react.
One second too late for me to make sense of what I see.
One fucking second too late.
They say your life flashes in front of your eyes right before you die.
But I don't think it's true.
It's confusion. Disbelief. Fear. Liam trying to make sense of what's going on.
My vision blurs, my head spins. Extra saliva coats my tongue. Hot, sticky moisture prickles over my skin. There's a flash, and everything goes black.
The next thing I know, Liam is staring at me. My head is in his lap, his hand slapping my cheek.
"Fucking-A. You okay?"
"What happened?" A group of concerned faces hovers above me.
I wipe my hand across my cheek as Axel's tongue assaults me a second time.
"You passed out." Liam helps me as I try to push onto my elbows.
"Just now?"
"Yeah." He hooks a hand under my arm, and someone else helps him drag me to my feet. "I was walking to the intersection, asked you to join us, and your face turned white as a sheet."
"But you stepped in front of a car." I try to recall what he's explaining but see things playing differently in my head.
He scowls. "I wasn't anywhere near a car."
Someone offers me a bottle of water, and I guzzle it before splashing the rest over my head. "But I saw you . . ."
"Your perception is off. I was only a couple of feet away. How do you think I got to you so fast?"
"But you . . . I saw . . . the screech . . . Bane was over by—the car." I point to the intersection. It is farther away from us than I thought. I'm a dumbass.
A nerdy-looking man in glasses and scrubs confirms Liam's story, filling in a couple of blanks. "A sudden lack of oxygen caused by decreased blood flow to the brain, and you pass out. Were you holding your breath?"
The crowd loses interest in my collapse to the sidewalk. And I wish I could recoup some of my dignity and disappear with them.
Liam pulls my arm over his shoulder, leading me toward the arched entry of the building. "You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go upstairs, get some water. Do some research."
"Everything's going to be fine." Liam averts his gaze and drops my arm, steadying me on my feet before he leaves me on my own. My not having to explain what I mean shows Liam knows exactly where my mind is at the moment.
"Why'd you talk to Bree before me?"
"Wanted some backup." He follows me inside, hangs his head when I turn, and makes eye contact.
I jab a finger into the elevator call button and grab his arm before he can run off. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
I step on as the doors slide open, waiting for his response. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, refusing to make eye contact as he stays outside of the elevator.
"Liam?"
When our eyes meet, the look I get says more than any words. His chin quivers as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. The elevator doors glide together. He takes a few hesitant steps backward, his eyes never leaving mine. "Bane and I will be back in a while." He gives me a cautious smile.
I step forward, our eyes meeting. "Liam, what the hell?"
"I don't want things to go the way they did when Mom and Dad died." His lips part as the words tumble from his mouth. "No matter what happens, I will always protect you."
The doors glide shut.
The sound of his faded groan breaks me.
"Liam, dammit! Liam!"
I dive at the closed doors, ricocheting off them as I pound my fists, needing to get off and get to him. A blind rage scorches through my veins. Choices in my past make him feel like he has to be the one to take care of me, but it's not what he said that has me concerned. The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.
I slide to the floor.
His tremor of disappointment will always be branded into my brain.
Liam pretends I'm the parent figure, even though he's always the one taking care of me. Maybe he doesn't believe I can help him. Or that I can be there for him. I've let him down one too many times. I can't say I'd blame him. Fuck, he'd be right. He can probably sense I'm in no position to help him because of how I've acted in the past. No wonder he told Bree before me. He's always having to guess how I'm going to react and have a way out, just in case.
And that makes it worse.
I'm a pathetic excuse for a brother.
I have a chance here. A chance to redeem myself—in a hell of my making.
I've let him down before. And I bet he expects it to happen again.
But this time, he's wrong.