Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JAREK

“Why are you rushing out of here?”

I looked over at the sound of Ivy’s voice to find her hovering in my doorway with a cup of coffee in her hand and a smirk on her lips. I was definitely busted. “I have plans.”

“Mm. Adorable, former Army man plans? The one you can’t stop talking about and can’t stop thinking about, but definitely isn’t your boyfriend?”

My cheeks heated as I turned away from her and finished shoving my laptop into my carrying case. “He’s not my boyfriend. We’re…”

“If you say friends, I’m going to fire you.”

I clamped my jaw shut.

“Good boy,” she said, walking over and giving my cheek a pat. “So, it is him, right?”

“Maybe.” I hesitated, then sank back into my chair as she propped her backside against my desk and stared down at me. “He’s teaching me to cook.”

Unfortunately, she’d just taken a sip of her coffee, but I managed to roll back and avoid the spray as she spit the mouthful out. “ You ?”

I swiped a tissue over the edge of my desk to mop up the mess. “Yeah, me.”

“Did you warn him that your one skill is not in the kitchen?”

I scowled. “I have more than one skill, thank you. And he believes in me.”

She stared for a long beat, then let out a short breath. “Oh shit .”

“What?” I looked behind me quickly to see what had startled her.

“No, just…oh shit.” She set her coffee down and grabbed my hand. “You’re in love.”

“No, I’m not! Don’t be ridiculous.” But the word pierced my chest. It was one of the many words I’d been avoiding for a while now. Still, it was far too soon for that, wasn’t it?

And even if I was in love, it wouldn’t matter. Bean wasn’t mine to have.He was just sort of mine for now.

“Jarek…”

“I’m serious. It’s not like that, okay? We’re friends, and we’re having fun. I like him,” I admitted, pulling my hand away and closing it into a tight fist. “But that is all it is.”

“I see.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Ivy sighed and shook her head. “I doubt that, babe. You’ve always been kind of a fool with your heart—which is part of your charm. But I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I repeated, mainly to convince myself. It was getting harder and harder to watch Bean leave every time he came over. It was harder and harder not to invite him to stay more often or to leave bits and pieces of himself around my place.

And it would be worse when I moved, which was coming up soon. Andrei had texted me with the timeline now that I’d replaced my working hands with a pile of cash, and the date had moved from a year to just a couple of months.

When it was my place—when I made myself a home there, it would be damn near impossible not to want Bean to leave his mark.

But that was my problem, not his.

“Oh, this is going to be a disaster,” Ivy said. She stood and grabbed her coffee. “You know I’ll be here for you, right? When it all goes to hell?”

“I know.”

“But for what it’s worth, I hope it does work out. He makes you smile in a way I’ve never seen before. I know you don’t buy my woo-woo bullshit, but I’m pretty sure that has to mean something.”

I didn’t let her words get to me. I couldn’t. Hope had no place here. The only thing I was allowed to embrace was the reality of our situation: that this was temporary, and what I had now was all I was ever going to get.

Bean was waiting for me outside the bar in the employee parking lot. He looked worse than the last time I’d seen him—dark circles under his eyes and his mouth drawn down at the corners. He gave me a sweet, lingering kiss when he slipped into the car, but he was quiet the whole drive back to my place.

“Do you want to cancel and do this another night?” I asked as I turned the corner onto the rental’s street.

Bean blinked, then frowned in confusion. “What?”

“The cooking lesson?”

He licked his lips slowly. “Oh. We’re cooking.”

“Oh, sunshine, we?—”

“No,” Bean said in a rush. “No, it’s fine.”

“Look, I don’t know if this is such a good idea if you’re?—”

“Don’t patronize me,” he interrupted again, his tone like I’d never heard it before. I reared back. “I’m not a child.”

“I wasn’t implying that, okay,” I said. We fell quiet until I pulled into the driveway and put the car in Park. I didn’t move yet, and neither did he. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just noticed you look tired and seem off.”

“Yeah, well, you try getting blown up and having your brains scrambled and tell me you’re not off sometimes.”

I knew this wasn’t his fault. He’d warned me mood swings and personality shifts would happen from time to time, but I had no idea how to navigate it. I didn’t want him to be here if he’d rather be somewhere else, but I had a feeling telling him that would only set him off again.

“I took chicken out,” I said softly.

He blinked. “For what?”

I bowed my head. “Dinner.”

“Can you cook chicken?”

I couldn’t help a smile in spite of the fact that it was obvious his memory was giving him hell. “No. But I was hoping, with your help, I could come up with something edible.”

He smiled a little, cocking his head to the side. “I can do edible. Do you have anything ready to cook?”

My heart sank as I turned off the car and reached for the door handle. “Yeah, sweet thing. We have chicken.”

I followed behind him and noticed his steps were more shuffled than usual. He didn’t seem lost, though, so I didn’t let myself worry too much. Obviously, he’d dealt with this kind of thing before, and I would take his lead.

The moment I got the door open, Bean made his way to the bathroom, so I went to my walk-in closet to change into something more comfortable. When I was in sweats, I found Bean sitting on the couch staring at the TV, which was off. He didn’t look up at me as I lowered myself beside him and reached for his hand.

“I was thinking we could order a pizza.”

He looked over at me. “How long has that chicken been out?”

Oh. He remembered. “Just a day. Not on the counter the whole time,” I added with a quick wink. “I’m bad, but I’m not that bad.”

He laughed and shook his head, then blinked rapidly before focusing on my face. “Jarek.”

“Rhymes with Derek,” I parroted back.

He smiled and leaned in, offering me a kiss I happily took. He hummed against my lips, then pulled back just far enough so he could knock our foreheads together. “I don’t think I’m up for sex stuff tonight.”

“Me either.” That hadn’t been true earlier in the day, but it was true now. I just wanted to be near him. “How hard is chicken soup?”

“Not hard,” he said. “But how about chicken and dumplings? I have a really good recipe we can make up quick.”

I took his chin and kissed him before standing and offering him a hand. “That sounds amazing. Lead the way.”

It didn’t take long for him to have a small pile of dough to be rolled—which I was doing—and some chopped carrots, celery, and onions in the pot browning with the chicken. He called it some French word I’d forgotten to write down, but I figured I’d ask him again when his focus was better.

He was going through all the motions, but as time passed, his words began to get lost. He was struggling with his aphasia—getting lost midway through sentences, and he kept frowning and rubbing his temples.

It was starting to scare me a little, but I didn’t want to set him off by asking.

In that moment, I wished I’d had Nash’s number so I could at least ask what to do. But that also seemed like I was babying him, and that was the last thing I wanted. I only regretted not having some kind of game plan for when something like this happened.

“You’re not paying attention!” he snapped, dragging me out of my thoughts.

“Bean,” I said slowly, cautiously.

He held the knife at me, then suddenly flung it into the sink. “No! Why am I doing this if you’re not going to pay attention? I told you over and over, and now we’re here with this turkey trying to have a nice…a nice…” His words dropped from a shout to a whisper.

“Honey?”

He looked up at me, but I swore he couldn’t see me in that moment. His right hand flew to his temple. “I need to sit down.”

I grabbed him before he fell over and half-led, half-carried him to the couch. Arranging the pillows with one hand, I eased him down and knelt beside him, pushing the hair off his forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I whispered.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut. “Something doesn’t feel right.”His words were slurred.

Oh god, was he having a stroke?From the little research I’d done, I knew people with a brain injury were at risk for those. “What do I do?”

“I’m…I…” His mouth opened and closed like he was trying to find the words. Then, suddenly, he went completely still.And then he began to shake.

My heart leaped into my throat as his body trembled. A seizure?

Panic overwhelmed me, and I did the only thing I could think of and ripped my phone off the table, dialing 9-1-1 with shaking fingers as I hoped I was quick enough to save his life if it was really in danger.

“Well.” The first responder—who wasn’t an EMT if the title on his shirt was anything to go by—said as he stood up. “I’m not a neurologist, but I’d say this was most likely a seizure.”

Bean was awake but not quite with it. His eyes were still glazed, and he hadn’t said much since he’d stopped shaking. The call to 9-1-1 had yielded an ambulance and this guy in the SUV with the fire department logo on the side. He’d arrived about four minutes before the ambulance and had managed to get Bean to respond to him before the paramedics walked in through the door.

He was calm too, which helped me stop freaking out that I was about to lose him.

“Do you know much about his history?”

I shook my head. “Just that he has a TBI. He was in the Army, and there was an incident. I don’t know a lot about it,” I confessed, feeling foolish that I had no real answers.

The guy smiled at me and set his hand on my shoulder. “You can relax. He’s going to be fine. These things happen, and I’m not even going to recommend transport to the hospital.”

“Really?” I was a little shocked at that.

“He has a medical alert card,” the guy said, pointing to the contents of his wallet that I’d emptied. “There’s an emergency number on there you can call. It looks like a friend or family.”

Well. Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that. Not that I’d ever been in a situation like this before, but still. Doing this with Bean, I should have known. I should have asked.

“I’m a terrible boyf—uh. Friend ,” I said.

The guy raised a brow at me, then grabbed the card off the table. “Why don’t we call this number together while these guys finish checking him out?”

That sounded like a good idea, even if the last thing I wanted to do was be away from him. “I’m Jarek, by the way,” I told him as we walked into the kitchen, where the half-done chicken and dumplings were still on the counter.

He grinned, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. If I wasn’t in such a state and completely enamored with Bean, I might have processed how good-looking this man was. Because he definitely had the silver-fox thing going for him with his salt-and-pepper beard and gray streaks in his hair.

“I know,” he said, winking. “I heard you on the call. I’m Dayton. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Is it?I’m not your worst call of all time?”

He chuckled and laid his hand on my shoulder again. “Not even close.You did well. Not everyone can think calmly or rationally when they’re as scared as you were. Don’t beat yourself up because you didn’t think of everything.”

The low rumble of his soothing words helped, and I was able to take a few breaths before grabbing the card from him. I looked at the name and felt an instant rush of relief. Nash was listed as the contact.

Putting his number in my phone, I dialed and said a small prayer as it rang and rang. And rang.I braced myself for voicemail before a rumbling voice picked up.

“Yo, this is Nash.”

“Hi. Uh…you don’t know me. My name is?—”

“Jarek. Yeah, I got you in my phone. Bean asked me to save your contact info. Everything okay?” Nash’s voice was short, clipped, and matter-of-fact without being cruel or accusing. But he sounded worried.

“Bean had an incident. I picked him up from work and he seemed a little off. We were cooking, and he just, ah, kind of lost it.”

“Lost it?” Nash was quiet for a beat. “Did he hurt himself again?”

My ears rang. “What do you mean hurt himself again?”

“I take that as a no.What happened?”

“We were cooking, and he kind of lost his grip on the present.Then, the next thing I knew, he was unconscious and shaking.I figured it was a seizure, so I called 9-1-1.The paramedics say he’s okay, and they showed me his medical alert card with your number on it.” I felt entirely out of my depth. I knew Bean—really, I did. But there were also things I clearly didn’t know and probably needed to figure out.

“Ah, hell.” Nash groaned softly. “He hasn’t had one of those in a while. Are they transporting him?”

“No. Though if you think they should?—”

“Nah. Not necessary. They’re non-epileptic seizures. They come with his migraines,” Nash said. “He needs meds, which are at our place, but I’m an hour outside the city.”

“Oh. I can take him,” I said quickly. “I’m more than happy to. I just wanted to check in. I didn’t know what to do, and I was worried.”

“I bet,” Nash said with a gentle chuckle. “Just breathe, silver bear.”

I flushed hard. Obviously, Bean had been talking about me—about us. “Ha. Yeah, thanks.”

He laughed again. “I’m going to text you the address, okay? And where to find the meds. He can take them without food, but make sure he gets in plenty of water. If he doesn’t remember where his room is, it’s up the stairs and two doors on the right. No one’s home now, but at least one of us will be soon.”

“And you’re sure he’s okay for me to drive him home and skip the hospital?”

“Absolutely. I’d rather not have him deal with the stress of the ER on top of everything else.”

I breathed a little easier. “Thank you for this, Nash. It was really good to talk to you.” I felt almost sick with relief. A migraine and non-epileptic seizure. I could deal with that. As long as he was okay, that was all that mattered.

“Talk soon,” he said, then hung up.

“We good?” Dayton asked.

I nodded. “As long as you guys think he’s okay, I can drive him home.”

“I think that’s best. Rest and getting his meds are the best things you can do.” Dayton led the way back to the living room, where the two EMTs were packing up their cases.

The blonde woman smiled at me as I walked over. She made room so I could kneel next to Bean. He looked up at me, and while he wasn’t smiling, he seemed a little more coherent.

“How long have I been here?” he asked, his voice raspy.

I leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I picked you up after work. I just got off the phone with Nash, and he asked me to take you home. You okay with that, sunshine?”

“Mm. Need meds. Pain’s starting.”

I kissed his forehead again, then looked over at the strangers in my home and while they had calmed me down, now all I wanted was for them to leave. “Anything else?”

“We’re all good,” Dayton said. He ushered everyone out as I showed them to the door, and then he stuck out his hand and shook mine. “You’re a good friend .” The way he emphasized that word told me he hadn’t missed my near-slip. “He’s lucky to have you.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I was damn well going to try to be worthy of him. Maybe if Bean saw that, he’d realize what we had was worth the risk.

I hadn’t realized how far Bean lived from the city until we were on the road and my GPS told me it would be over an hour with the traffic. I’d set him up in the back seat with pillows, a blanket, and a lavender sleep mask I had left over from my insomnia nights right after the divorce.

I didn’t know if he was sleeping, but he was quiet, and for the first time that day, the silence was a comfort. This was a lot—in a good way, but I was also starting to question whether or not I was the right man for this. I’d panicked because I hadn’t known what was happening or what to do, but would it have been the same even if Bean had told me?

Gio had required a lot of attention but in a needy, spoiled way. He wanted all my attention while giving me none of his, and he balked every time I suggested we find a middle ground to make us both happy. It was what led to the open marriage and to the affairs after we closed it again.

It was different with Bean. It felt like so much more was on the line with him—so much more of my heart, anyway. But what if I failed to be the man he needed, just like I’d done with my ex?

The thought plagued me all the way to his place, and I pulled into the driveway of a very nice two-story unattached house, which was rare these days. It had an old-world look that I loved, and as I got Bean through the door, the charm followed me inside. The floors were worn and well-loved, the walls covered in photos, and the smell of recently used spices and shower gel permeated the hallways.

I led Bean up the stairs and two doors down to his bedroom. It was very much him—neat, orderly, covered in Post-It notes with instructions. He had a small dresser with medications lined up along the edge, and after getting him beneath his covers, it only took me a moment to find the one for his migraines.

“I’m going to get you water,” I murmured against his ear.

He grumbled, then reached for me, and I let him cling tightly until his body relaxed. When his breathing evened out, I made my way downstairs and found the kitchen. It was as tidy as the rest of the house but definitely lived in.

I could be comfortable there—maybe not permanently. I wanted my own space. But I also found myself wanting to be part of this too. To be invited to stay.

The craving stayed with me back up to Bean’s room, where I fed him the pill and eventually got the whole glass of water in him. He settled into his pillows, and I knew he’d be out for a while.

I turned off all the lights, determined to leave and speak with him when he was feeling better, but as I reached the front door, it opened, and I came face-to-face with a very tall, very good-looking man about my age.

“Jarek,” he said.

I recognized his voice. “Hey. Bean’s upstairs. He got his meds and water. I was on my way out.”

Several faces peered around his shoulders, and I figured they were the other guys. I fought the urge to laugh because it didn’t seem like the time, but they were like eager puppies trying to get a look.

Nash rolled his eyes. “I’ll walk you out. Heathens, go inside and don’t bother anyone.”

They filed past, the last one stopping, and I recognized him from the beach. “I knew I’d be seeing you again,” he said with a wink.

“Heath,” Nash warned. Heath gave him a mock salute and followed the guy with the shortest hair, closing the door behind him. I let out a chuckle and Nash sighed, beckoning me toward my car. “Sorry about that. They’re in everyone’s business.”

“I’m not offended. I’m actually glad you all came home. I didn’t want to leave him, but I also didn’t want to hang around your place without an invite.”

Nash’s mouth twitched as we stopped by my car. He gave it a look and a raised brow, but he didn’t ask about my situation, which I appreciated. “Thank you for getting him home safe.”

Bowing my head, I nodded, staring at my feet. “It was terrifying, I’m not gonna lie. I thought he was having a stroke or something at first.”

“His seizures are fewer and farther between now, but they were bad at first. And his memory would be completely fucked when he came out of it.” Nash folded his arms, and his gaze moved off toward the horizon. “We’ve all got a lot going on.”

“I know.” I had a feeling this was his version of the shovel-talk.

“It takes a lot of patience, and Bean’s the sweetest one here, but he can also be the most difficult. He gets these brainstorms, and he gets angry. He can get a little mean?—”

I interrupted with a laugh. “Sorry, no. I sort of saw that today, but his version of mean is like my ex on a good day.” I hesitated, then asked, “So, what you asked me before when you said something about him hurting himself…?”

Nash glanced toward the house like he didn’t want to meet my gaze. “It’s not something he does intentionally, and it was worse when he was first discharged. Traumatic brain injuries are like onions.”

Was this man really quoting Shrek right now?

His lips lifted into a smile. “Yeah, silly reference, I know, but it is a good one. There are a lot of layers to injuries like his. Bean had to learn to walk and talk again after he woke up. Then, he had to figure out who everyone around him was with the complication of his retrograde amnesia and face blindness. He was…frustrated,” Nash said slowly, like that wasn’t the word he wanted to use. “He was angry. He still gets angry at himself for being different, which sometimes overwhelms him.He can spiral and hurt himself if he’s not careful.”

I swallowed thickly.“That sounds hard.”

“It is,” Nash said, “but he’s been working on it since he was discharged from rehab.He has a therapist and coping techniques he uses.It’s just…” He hesitated for a beat. “Sometimes they don’t always work.”

“So what do I do when that happens?” I asked.“How do I help him?”

“Listen to him. He’s been real good at advocating for himself and telling people around him what he needs. If he needs space, give it to him. Don’t push. If he does start hurting himself, use your words to calm him down. Don’t grab him. That’s a good way to take an elbow to the eye.”

He spoke like he knew firsthand, which was fair.

“Have I scared you off yet?” Nash asked.

That startled a laugh out of me. “Do I seem scared?”

He studied me for a long beat, and then his face broke into a big smile. “I guess not.You’re a good one. You know that?”

“Don’t give me too much credit.Giving someone what they need feels like the bare minimum, and Bean deserves to be taken care of. And between you and me, I feel like he doesn’t get enough credit for how well he takes care of everyone else.”

Nash went soft all over. “You get him.”

I did. It was terrifying because it was creating feelings I wasn’t ready to face, but knowing these things about Bean made me feel a little more emboldened to be there for him. To be a steady rock when everything else felt like a stormy sea. “I like him. Nothing you said is going to scare me off.”

Nash’s lip twitched, and then he chuckled. “Good. He needs people in his life who are willing to understand and stick around when the going gets rough.Because it will get rough.That’s something that will likely never change.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not unless he asks me to.” I knew I probably shouldn’t be saying much, but frankly, I needed to say the words. “He deserves the best.”

Nash swallowed thickly, then nodded. “You get home safe, okay? And now you’ve got my number, so you call me if you ever need anything.”

The words sounded like he meant them for more than just Bean’s troubles, and I had no idea what to do with that. So I just nodded, then reached for my door handle and got inside. I waited until Nash was back in the house before I started my car, and I could see a couple of faces peering from behind curtains.

I smiled and waved, and they disappeared.

Maybe I was a dipshit for wanting this, but I did. I had no idea how long I’d be allowed to stick around.