Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BEAN

“As far as I can tell, the seizure left no lasting damage,” Dr. Hanley said after studying my MRI for what seemed like an eternity. “But I don’t like that you had one again after being seizure-free for so long.”

I cringed under her stern look. “I may have been stupid,” I said softly.

Next to me, Nash cleared his throat.

I let out a sigh. “I was stupid,” I corrected myself. “I hadn’t slept well all week and wasn’t feeling well from the moment I got up. Instead of respecting the limits my brain and body communicated, I forced myself to keep going.”

She leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “You can’t do that, Bean. I know it’s frustrating, but?—”

“With all respect, Dr. Hanley, but you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like to be constantly betrayed by your own brain. I was a soldier, healthy and in the best shape of my life. And now I’m… I’m this shell of who I used to be, this weak excuse for a man, constantly forced to humiliate myself and admit I can’t do something, always needing to ask for help. I hate it. I hate everything about it. I hate my stupid brain, and I hate that I can’t ever be normal again…”

Tears streamed down my face, my throat so tight even swallowing hurt. It bubbled inside me, this anger, this rage, this fury over what had happened. I balled my fists. “I know I should be grateful I’m alive, that I survived that accident. And I know I shouldn’t allow myself to be this bitter and angry, but I am. It’s so unfair. So incredibly unfair. I did nothing wrong, but because someone else messed up, I will never be whole again. I’ll never be normal again. I’ll always have a crappy memory, and these mood swings and the seizures and the urge to harm myself and God knows what else.”

I turned to Nash. “A year from now, you’ll be sick and tired of me always needing your help, and you’ll kick me out, and then what? Who will want me? Who would ever love someone like me? I’m gonna end up alone, having to move back in with my parents until even they get tired of having to baby me.”

I buried my face in my hands, sobs wracking my body. Nash’s hand landed on my shoulder, firm and steady as a rock. He wasn’t angry with me?

Dr. Hanley pushed a box of tissues forward. “I was wondering if the emotions would ever come out,” she said softly.

I blew my nose and dried my eyes as best as I could, then looked up. Her face was still somewhat blurry through my misty eyes. “What do you mean?”

“From the moment I met you, you’ve been forcefully positive, always stating you didn’t want to be angry.”

“ A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance: but by sorrow of the heart, the spirit is broken ,” I whispered. “Proverbs 3:15: If you allow anger to take root, it will lead to bitterness, and where bitterness is, God can’t dwell .”

Over a decade since I’d been to church, yet the words rolled off my lips as if I’d heard them yesterday. The power of memorization. Or indoctrination, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, it had been strong enough to remain despite my brain injury. Because, of course, my brain chose to remember that.

“Anger and bitterness are not the same thing,” Nash said, his voice gentle. “Anger is a pure emotion if you ask me, and it takes a lot of anger over a long period to develop into bitterness. When something like this happens to you, you’re allowed to be angry, Bean. I’m pretty sure Jesus himself was angry at some point.”

“He was when he kicked those salespeople out of the temple,” Dr. Hanley said. “And there are plenty of examples where God was angry, like when he sent the flood or when his people disobeyed him. I agree with Nash that anger and bitterness are not the same. It takes a long time for anger to become bitterness. However, if you keep repressing your anger rather than allowing yourself to feel it, that can have consequences too.”

“I don’t know how to be angry…” It came out a whisper, but I felt the truth of that statement resonate deep inside my soul. “It wasn’t something that was allowed in our house.”

Nash squeezed my shoulder. “So you’ll have to learn. Maybe your therapist could help you with that.”

“Yeah, but…” I tried to remember what I talked about with her but came up blank, so I reached for my notebook. “My notes say we talk about stuff like how to respond to mishaps or when people get irritated with me.” I looked up again. “The fact that I had to look it up tells you how helpful that was. Kinda hard to apply stuff you can’t remember in the first place.”

“So we’ll get you a new therapist,” Nash said. “One that is able to look past the surface and help you process and express your anger.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “Tameron’s therapist suggested he visit a rage room and beat the shit out of stuff with a baseball bat. It worked for him.”

I snorted despite everything. “He went to town with a baseball bat?”

“Yup. He showed me pics of the before and after. It was quite epic, actually. They had some old TVs, and he smashed them completely to pieces, then let loose on some old furniture. He said it made him feel a hundred times better.”

“I like that,” Dr. Hanley said. “That’s a healthy way of expressing anger and getting rid of that restless energy it can bring. And I agree with Nash that you may need a different therapist. I can give you some recommendations for an anger and trauma specialist if you like?”

I nodded, then jotted down a quick note so I wouldn’t forget.

Dr. Hanley checked her watch. “I’m sorry, Bean, but we have to wrap this up. My next appointment is waiting. I want to see you again next month unless something happens again, okay?”

I bit my lip. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to imply that…”

She held up her hand. “You were right. I don’t know what it’s like. I have Crohn’s, so I know what it’s like to live with a chronic illness and to have severe limitations in what I can do, but it’s not the same. It’s an expression we easily use as doctors, saying we know things are hard, but we don’t. No one does unless they’ve walked in your shoes. So you were right to call me out. I shouldn’t say that so easily.”

“I’m still sorry for yelling at you.”

She grinned. “Most of your yelling was at Nash, so we’re good, Bean, I promise.”

Nash. I stole a glance at him. Was he really not upset? God, the idea of him being angry with me or, worse, disappointed… It brought a heaviness to my belly and a bitter taste to my mouth. I owed him so much.

Nash patted my knee. “We’ll talk in the car, but we’re good, Bean. I promise.”

I said goodbye to Dr. Hanley, and then Nash and I made our way back to the car. Still in the parking lot, I half-turned to Nash. “I’m so sorry for saying all that. I’m so grateful for everything you do for me, and I didn’t mean to imply I’m not.”

“You didn’t, but we’ll talk once we’re driving, okay?”

Once we were on the way, he said, “I’m glad to finally see you angry. Like Dr. Hanley, I was waiting for it all to come out.”

“You never said anything.”

“It’s your journey. I don’t know what it’s like to live in your body, with your brain, so all I could do was wait and be there for you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes all over again. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re my brother, Bean. That’s enough.”

“It’s not a balanced relationship. You do so much more for me than I’ll ever be able to do for you.”

“I’d like to think that being a family means not keeping score, but I understand that’s hard in your position, so let me say this. I know you don’t see it, but I’m grateful for you, Tameron, and Creek moving in with me. You may have actual injuries—some visible and some not—whereas I don’t, but I need you as much as you need me.”

I frowned. What did he mean? Nash was the most self-assured man I’d ever known. What could he possibly need me, need us for? “I don’t understand.”

“I’d be dead lonely without you guys,” Nash said softly. “My grandparents are gone, my parents have rejected me, and you’re all I have.”

His quiet words pierced my soul. How had I never seen this? I’d always considered it a kind of charity that Nash allowed us to live with him, something he was doing for us. I’d never realized he needed us too. Sad as it was, it also made me feel better, as if our relationship wasn’t quite as unbalanced as I had made it out to be.

“I want to be a better friend to you, to be there for you as much as you support me. Tell me how to do that. I know it’ll have to be somewhat forced because I’ll have to write it down and remind myself, but I want to, Nash. I want to be your friend.”

He took his time answering, but that was okay. Nash rarely said anything without thinking it through. “Allow me to take care of you. That’s all I ask. And maybe ask me how my day was every once in a while.”

“Hold up. How is allowing you to take care of me being your friend?”

Another drawn-out pause. “Because I need to feel useful, like I’m making a difference. It may not be healthy, but it is what it is.”

I scratched my chin. “You’re saying that allowing you to take care of me is giving you a sense of purpose?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, that’s the easiest ‘yes’ ever then.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate that, but make sure you mean it. When you had your…episode…two days ago, you said I was coddling you.”

“I did?” I couldn’t remember anything from that day and had barely made any notes, so I couldn’t rely on those either.

“It was your mother’s birthday, so I suspect you may have had a run-in with her earlier that morning.”

Knowing my mother, that was likely. And, of course, already being irritated by that, exacerbated by not feeling well, I’d taken it out on Nash. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”

He patted my knee. “I don’t think you did either, but I need you to promise me that if I overstep, you’ll tell me.”

“I promise.”

He nudged me. “Write that down, knucklehead, before it disappears from that leaky brain of yours.”

Good point. I made some notes, then added what Nash had told me about needing to feel useful. That wasn’t something I wanted to forget. It mattered, probably more than I realized right now, but that was a discussion for another time.

“What you said in there about no one ever loving you the way you are…” Nash said when I was done.

“I can’t help but feel that way. I’m a lot, Nash. You can’t deny that.”

“You should’ve seen Jarek that day. How worried he was for you, how he took care of you.”

“I don’t remember anything from that day. Not even seeing him or what happened at his place.”

“I know, but I’m telling you, he was out of his mind with worry. When he called me, and later when we met, he was deeply concerned for your wellbeing. He cares, Bean. A lot.”

What was Nash saying? “He’s not in love with me. We’re just friends. With benefits.”

“I’m not saying he is. I’m saying he could be.”

My head spun around so swiftly that I was dizzy for a moment. “What?” I managed once I had my equilibrium back. “He’s what?”

“He could fall in love with you. Easily. If you ask me, he’s halfway there.”

My mouth dropped open, and it took effort to close it again. “I told you, we’re friends.”

“Bean, my sweet summer child, what you two have is not friendship. The way that man looked when he was so worried about you was not friendship. How you talk about him is not friendship. None of this is friendship. I know you don’t have a lot of experience in things like this, especially not with men, but trust me on this. You two are more than friends. You may not be ready to acknowledge that, and that’s fine, but you’re not just friends. Not even with benefits.”

Nash was right that I didn’t have much experience. Heck, I was still somewhat baffled that I’d managed to get a girlfriend like Natasha in the first place, and I had no clue how I’d done it. But it was hard to imagine I could be so wrong about Jarek and me. We’d been clear about what we were, hadn’t we?

I flipped through my notebook. Yeah, there it was. I’d had questions about the rules of being casual hookups and then Jarek had suggested being friends with benefits. If he’d wanted to actually date, surely he would’ve said so, wouldn’t he? He actually did have experience, considering he’d been married—according to my notes, it had been a contentious divorce and his ex had cheated on him repeatedly.

“Jarek’s never said anything about wanting more,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sure he hasn’t. He may not be ready for that. But I need you to know and write it down, kid, so you’re not shocked when things develop and head in that direction.”

Okay, I was lost again. “In what direction?”

“Of a relationship. Being boyfriends.”

My heart skipped a beat. “B-boyfriends? You think he wants to be my…?”

“Talk to him, Bean. Sit down with him for an honest conversation. He needs to know what you’re dealing with so he can decide if that’s something he’s willing to sign up for.”

Did Nash really think I hadn’t told Jarek anything? “He knows about my TBI.”

“He needs details, not just the CliffsNotes version. He had no idea what was happening when you had your seizure, and he was out of his mind with worry.”

Ah, okay. I couldn’t remember how much I had told him, but it was possible I’d shared very little. I didn’t like talking about the TBI, and I had no trouble imagining I’d shared as little as possible out of fear of scaring him away. “But how do I even bring up the topic of…more? I can’t come out and ask if he wants to be boyfriends.”

Nash let out a dry chuckle. “Well, you could, but I can imagine that’s a little scary. You could just tell him you want to talk about your injury and what that means going forward. You know, manage expectations. And then pay attention to what he’s saying and what he isn’t saying or communicating with his body language.”

I let out a deep sigh. “It’s getting complicated.”

“Life always is. That’s part of its charm. Or so they say.”

“Right now, I’d settle for a heck of a lot less complicated.”

He patted my thigh again. Nash was such a tactile guy. “You’ll figure it all out, Bean. You have time. It’s not like there’s a deadline on you and Jarek.”

“You’re full of wisdom today, aren’t you? You should put that on a Hallmark card. Make some money off it.”

His laughter rang out in the car, rich and booming. “I’ll take that under advisement. Now close your eyes and take a nap, kid. We still have forty-five minutes to go, so perfect for a little extra rest for you.”