36. Wise Words

36

Wise Words

Brighton

Tuesday, June 6 th

12:13 a.m.

There's a literal and figurative way to look at almost anything. And when it comes to Dax, I can never decipher what to do with him. He's a hurricane of demands and expectations, sweeping aside all boundaries like a force of nature. He's so damn pushy. And I literally can't say I expect anything less.

He grins at me as I open the door, inviting him in.

"Don't get any ideas. I want to go over something."

His grin grows. "I'm up for anything."

"Not that sort of something."

He waggles his brow with a sly grin. "Like I said, up. For. Anything."

I promised myself I wouldn't let my frustration get the better of me when I saw him, and I'd stay in control of my emotions. I should have known better. Being around him makes me forget why I was mad in the first place. And I have every right to be angry.

A moment of panic sets in. Did I say something I shouldn't have? Did I take things too far?

I sneak a peek at him. His returned gaze says the complete opposite. He seems a little smitten with the situation he's found himself in. He glances around the foyer and past me into the hall.

I snap my fingers, drawing his attention back to me as I grab my bag and pull out my laptop, trying to fend off his presumptuous attitude. "If you had the chance to understand what Liam's going through, would you take it? Or do you prefer to settle for sidekick?"

A frown creases his lips, and a deep V settles between his brows. "I'm not the sidekick."

"You're going to have to prove it." I offer him my laptop, and he hesitates to take it. I can't say I blame him. I'll have to explain a lot, but this may open his eyes. And I need him to get this. I didn't get this opportunity with Grady, and I don't want to leave Dax with any chance of regret.

His eyes bounce from one side of the screen to the other and back again. He traces a line with his finger and scrolls up on the page. I give him a couple of minutes to process what he's reading. I'm going to have to fill in a lot of blanks.

All the color from his face vanishes as his eyes leave the screen and meet mine.

"Do you know what this means?" I ask.

He shakes his head, swallows, and pinches his brow. He glances over at me. "Is this bad?"

"It could be worse."

The white tone of his face changes to an ashen color, and his eyes gloss over. I take the laptop from him and slide it back into the bag next to me on the stairs, grabbing his arm and leading him into the front room on our right.

"I had a feeling he wasn't being completely honest with you."

Dax crumples onto my leather sofa, burying his head in his hands. I've always been a firm believer that one can tell a lot about someone by the way they handle bad news. But I'm not sure I'm getting the correct read on Dax. His resolve from last week seems to be a front for how he's really doing.

"I'm telling you this from experience: don't wait until it's too late."

"Isn't it already?" He clears his throat and pinches his eyes closed.

"No. Absolutely not. But we need Liam to hang on, not give up. And that means you take part of his burden and carry it, so he doesn't have to. Get him to his appointments. Help him with his meds. Make sure he eats. His only focus should be on healing. That's where you come in."

I don't want to give him a false sense of hope, but there's still a chance for things to turn out fine for Liam, and I want Dax to hold on to that chance with everything he's got.

"He doesn't tell me anything and keeps me out of the loop. I want to be there for him, but if he won't talk to me . . ." He trails off like no word in the world describes the dire situation. His shoulders slump forward, but at least a little of his color has returned.

"We can handle this one of two ways—give up and let things take their course or—"

He cuts me off. "Stop being the sidekick."

I smile. "Sure, I was gonna say put on our big boy panties and handle our shit, but you could stop being the sidekick too."

"We—I like the sound of that."

"I told you I was in it for the long haul. I'll give this all I've got and expect you to do the same. You asked me if I could give Liam the best care possible."

He nods, remembering.

"I told you I couldn't promise more than that. But I won't let you two squander the opportunity Liam has for the best outcome."

Dax drops his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm here for it. Tell me what to do."

I sit beside him on the sofa, keeping a cushion between us. I don't want him to get any ideas. The need to reiterate the patient-doctor boundary is at the forefront of my mind.

"A lot of pieces need to fall into place to get Liam headed in the direction we need him to be. We're on a strict timeline, and I need you all in. Can you do that for me? For Liam?" My tone is a little harsher than I intended. While I'm irritated about how the situation yesterday played out, I'm no longer mad at Dax.

He drops his gaze and swallows, nodding.

"Liam's results aren't the best. Things are about to get worse. His side effects are farther along than expected, considering how early we are into treatment, but that doesn't mean we're going to give up. Got it?"

I'm unsure how to read what's going on between them with the way the last twenty-four hours have played out. From what I can tell, Dax wants to answer yes without question, but I'm unsure if he's strong enough to say the words out loud. Something has made him build a wall on the Liam topic, and I'm not sure how to get through it.

It doesn't take long for him to answer. "What else do I need to do?"

A surge of relief washes through me. "He's going to get sick. He's going to lose his hair. He's not going to want to eat. He will want to stop coming in. You can't let him do those things. You have to be his feet when he doesn't want to walk, his determination when he's lost his resolve to keep fighting. You can't let him stop. Do you understand?"

"Anything else?" he asks.

"You need to do another HLA test."

He goes to protest, but I hold up a hand. "It's non-negotiable. Findings from the original test were inconclusive on the DNA." I don't mention that it's missing, and that's the real reason we need it. "It's a quick swab. I explained this yesterday to Liam. He didn't mention it?"

He drops back onto the cushion and covers his face with his palms. "Nope."

"It's a quick mouth swab. From here on out, you can come straight to me. We have the signed HIPAA waiver, and he doesn't have to be the middleman anymore. If you have questions, ask. If you need more information, ask. Come to his appointments. It's that simple."

"Got it." He pushes to stand, all his enthusiasm and emotions drained. His eyes cloud over from exhaustion and defeat.

I wish I could take some of his load and hold it for him. I would do anything to take the weight off his shoulders. When words falter and actions fail, the most genuine way to support someone lies in the simple act of sitting with them in their darkness, ensuring they are never left to face it alone. And I hope he knows I'm willing to do that for him.

I walk around the coffee table, heading for the front door. Dax follows me but stops in the hall. He stands there, waiting for me to say something, but I'm all out of words. I try not to speak in absolutes, but things aren't looking good for Liam.

He gazes between me and the door and leans against the wall behind him. An awkward silence permeates the air. I struggle to come up with a lighthearted topic since we've only been dealing with the heavy, but my mind is blank. His dark eyes scan over me, and heat rushes up my neck as I tear my gaze from his.

"I pictured being in your house for the first time going a little different." He chuckles and stuffs his hands in his pockets as his eyes roam around what part of my house he can see.

"I can't say I pictured you in my house at all."

"Ouch," he says as he pretends to stab himself in the heart.

"Point."

His eyes narrow. "Does that make us even?"

"I'm ahead." I smirk and grab the handle of the front door, pulling it open. The rain has become a steady stream in the beam of streetlamps across the street. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"

Dax glances past me. "Nah, I need to think."

"In the rain?"

He hangs his head. "Guess it doesn't matter. I need to figure out which direction Central Park is, and I'll go."

I didn't fully believe showing up at my door was by chance, but maybe I was wrong. A crack of lightning lights the sky, and I jump, the boom of his laughter echoing the crack of thunder.

He takes a couple of steps around me and stops on the landing. Within seconds, his gray shirt clings to his skin, outlining the contours of every muscle.

"You can't walk home in this."

He looks at the sky and holds out both hands as he closes his eyes. "It's refreshing. I'm not scared of getting a little wet."

I refuse to acknowledge his play on words. He already got one point tonight. I'm not affording him the pleasure of another.

My eyes stay fixed on him, curious about his next move. He cocks his head toward his shoulder, and a smirk lifts the side of his mouth. Somehow, I always get it wrong. I can't comprehend how he can be so spontaneous and haphazard about everything. I saw a glimpse of this part of his personality the last time we ran into each other, but it's more exaggerated than I remember.

I shouldn't care about how enchanting he is or can be. The zing of electricity between us as his fingers graze my hand reminds me that touching is not a good idea. And I don't have it in me to tell him. I take a step back, creating a couple of feet so I can breathe.

Rain drips off his lashes, a teasing grin spreading across his face as he offers me a hand and asks, "Wanna dance?"