Chapter 3

three

KASH

“I’d like to run another round of tests.”

Kash did his best not to sigh, but it was difficult. He was pretty sure every doctor he’d seen had run every test known to man. They’d even gone deep into illnesses and diseases that were eradicated by vaccines.

So far, nothing had come back positive.

“What are you thinking?”

“That you may be having some atypical signs of rapid onset ALS. That’s normally a weakening of the muscles, but that and dystonia are so closely related, so I don’t want to rule it out. And right now, that’s what makes the most logical amount of sense.”

Kash nodded, but his ears were ringing. ALS. He knew that one. He knew that one a little too well. That one was terminal. There was a zero percent survival rate—and at best, he’d have a few extra years where he was immobile and completely dependent on caregivers for every single one of his needs.

His heart began to speed up. “I…if that is the case, what would my prognosis be? ”

He appreciated that this doctor wasn’t sugarcoating anything, even if he could have used a little sweet to the afternoon’s sour. He clicked his pen. “Based on your progression of symptoms, I’d say on the low end of five years. Three, maybe four. Some people, with aggressive treatment, can live up to a decade, but…” The doctor trailed off with a shrug like he didn’t want to finish the sentence aloud.

“But you don’t think that’s me,” Kash said. His voice sounded hollow. This whole time, his brain had been telling him it was something terminal. That it was something he wasn’t coming back from.

He’d told himself he could live with no cure so long as he’d live, but this…

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Foy. I know this isn’t news anyone wants to hear. But please don’t panic yet. This isn’t a diagnosis. It’s a hypothesis.”

“So, not even a theory yet,” Kash said.

“Ah, you’re familiar with the scientific method.” The doctor smiled. “No, it’s not a theory yet. We don’t have nearly enough evidence apart from your dystonia, but I’m not entirely convinced this was brought on by your head injury. I’ve been doing this a while, and I trust my gut, and my gut is telling me to have you tested.”

“Is your gut saying this is what you think it is?”

The doctor gave him a level stare. “No. My gut is saying rule it out because the sooner we figure it out, the sooner we can get you on the road to some kind of treatment.”

Even if that treatment was to manage symptoms until he succumbed to whatever illness it was. He kept that thought to himself though.

“Of course.” Kash shifted on the chair and realized his legs were too stiff to stand on his own. His cane was nearby, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to reach for it.

The doctor stared at him for a beat, then said, “I’m going to get you in touch with the company we like to use for mobility aids, and I’m going to write you a script. I think you could benefit from a wheelchair, at the very least, and some better orthotics to keep you on your feet. Even if it’s not ALS, your symptoms are very clearly progressive and unpredictable. There’s no need to struggle if you don’t need to.”

Well. That was something he hadn’t heard very often. He’d grown up believing everything worth having was a struggle. Love, food, money, shelter, friendships. Health, he supposed.

“Will my insurance cover it?”

The doctor grimaced. “Not my area, but there are people to help with that—and financing if not.”

Kash winced. He had some money squirreled away, but not enough to take out a loan if that’s what it would take to get him wheels. He was living on his disability payments from the station, Adele’s good graces, and the idea of his future retirement pension once they figured out what the actual fuck was going on with his body and he was diagnosed with something permanent.

But only if it could be related back to being injured on the job.

If that ended up not being the case…he was pretty screwed.

“I’ll have the desk call you with the testing dates,” the doctor said. He clicked his pen twice more before shoving it into his pocket and rising from his little rolling stool. He grabbed Kash’s cane and handed it over. “Would you like a hand? ”

“I’ve got it.” He would like a hand, but he also had the wild, unrealistic thought that if he needed help getting up, it meant the doctor was right. That this was those three terrifying letters that meant it was all going to be over long before he was ready to go.

And he wasn’t ready to accept that yet.

Luckily, the doctor was probably well familiar with people’s sense of dwindling pride and gave him the moment alone he needed. He closed the door behind him, and Kash pressed the cane tip into the floor and rose. His legs protested painfully and stiffly, but he forced one foot in front of the other as he made his way out.

A wheelchair sounded really fucking nice right then. And better braces for his legs to keep his feet straight when his toes were curling so hard and so far that it turned his feet inward. He made it to the desk as he pulled his phone out to order a rideshare, then smiled at the front desk lady with the pink strip of hair in her black locks.

“Looks like Dr. Marsh wants us to call you to schedule some appointments for testing,” she said.

He stared at her name badge. Kassie. Pretty name. It matched her smile. “Yes, please.”

“No problem. You’re all set for today. Do you need help getting out?”

Kash grimaced. Was it going to be like that everywhere he went? Pity and offers to help him? It was odd that he felt so bitter about it. He’d spent half his life making sure that people he met on calls felt no shame in needing assistance. But here he was, desperate for it and feeling like he was choking to death on what was left of his ego.

“I’m all good. Have a great afternoon.”

It took him so long to reach the doors the ride was waiting for him when he got to the sidewalk. It was a young woman with a sign on the back that read, Thank You For Your Patronage. I’m Deaf. If you need my attention, please tap my shoulder.

Kash had taken ASL right after he’d gotten his job and had his first Deaf patient, who was panicking and unable to communicate outside of sign language. It was coming in handy now that he’d met Frey with his Deaf son, but it felt strange. Almost like that memory belonged to someone else living a life that hadn’t been his.

He felt so damn disconnected from it all. Words were buzzing around his head from the doctor and the weight of the upcoming tests that would determine whether or not his life was going to be long or short. Which, of course, was ridiculous. He could get hit by a drunk driver on his way home and go out that way.

But that didn’t change the weight sitting on his chest. Fuck, he was going to have to face reality. And worse, he was going to have to make everyone else face it as well. It was bad enough he had Adele and Gage on a knife’s edge waiting to know what was wrong with him, but he’d have to call his brother too—the one member of his family he still spoke to—and confess that he’d been hiding a lot recently.

God, he was going to have to sit everyone he cared about down and possibly say the words “I’m dying.”

He felt sick. He shoved the thought out of his head and quickly signed thanks to his driver as he settled in the back seat. She grinned like he’d made her day, and he wondered if he’d feel like that someday. Assuming the doctor was wrong and he lived to see it.

If he was completely disabled, would he be grateful to someone doing the absolute bare minimum?

He supposed so. He felt like that now. Hell, he’d felt like that most of his life. Grateful for friends who tolerated him. Grateful that Adele kept him around this long. Grateful that he got even a little bit of Adele’s attention, though never in the way he desperately wanted.

It wasn’t fair to put that on Adele, however. He’d been an amazing friend, and Kash had watched him purge his life of anything that took attention away from his son after his divorce and subsequent breakdown. He’d been there when Adele was at his worst, and between him and Bowen, they’d pulled him out of the pit.

Adele had been grateful then. And he was such a good man, and he never let Kash forget how much he appreciated his friendship.

In truth, he was pining and feeling a little bitter about the fact that his life was probably going to be cut short and he wouldn’t have time to see Adele get old. It also didn’t help that Kash worried himself to the point of feeling sick that Adele had spent so much time taking care of others that now he was about to have an empty nest and he was all alone.

And if Kash was terminal, if he was going to die in the next couple of years, he wanted to know that Adele had someone to take care of him. He’d seen what happened when Adele’s marriage had fallen apart. He didn’t want to think what would happen if Adele’s son moved away and then he lost his best friend.

He had to sacrifice his pointless fantasy of a happily ever after because that wasn’t going to help anyone. His energy was better spent on making sure Adele dropped his guard and finally let someone close to him.

The thought carried with him all the way home. He signed another thank you to the driver before heading inside, and he was happy that the place was empty. Gage’s best friend, Lucas, was over a lot—not that Kash minded. The kid was a little mouthy, but Kash liked that about him. And he seemed to make Gage happy, which was good because the kid had a quiet, unnamed chip on his shoulder that he never spoke about, and Kash worried about him almost as much as he worried about Adele.

But it was nice to have some peace and quiet. His legs were hurting, and he wanted a muscle relaxer and a nap before the whole dinner thing. Ridge was coming over. Ridge, who was Adele’s new work and dad friend. Ridge, who Kash was starting to think more and more might be a good fit for his best friend.

He hadn’t met him in person. They’d crossed paths at a couple of barbeques, but this would be the first time they were in the same room together for an extended period of time. It would be the ideal moment to assess him and determine whether or not he was worthy of Adele.

Kash would be hard on him, but only because Adele deserved the best.

And maybe that was why the universe saw fit to take him out of the equation. He was a good person, but he wasn’t the best, and he’d probably never be worthy of Adele.

“Your breath smells like toad ass.”

Kash blinked and turned his head to find Adele in the bed with him, spooning his side. He licked his lips and grimaced at the cotton mouth making his tongue sticky. The muscle relaxers the doctor had put him on knocked him on his ass every time.

“Why do you know what toad ass smells like? ”

Adele snorted. “Junior year? Your dad’s weed?”

Right. Yeah. Their bad-boy phase. His dad was a classic seventies stoner and thought he was clever about where he kept his stash. The boys had raided it the night of Adele’s seventeenth birthday and had gotten high with a partially crushed Coke can on the football field. Neither of them could handle their high.

They ended up splashing around a pond in the woods behind the field trying to find frogs, and Adele had gone on a long-winded rant about licking one until Kash remembered that it was only rainforest frogs that were hallucinogenic—but that was after Adele had a fat American toad a centimeter from his lips.

“We’re never supposed to speak of that. I don’t want Gage to find out the shit we did when we were his age,” Adele whispered. “I cannot handle the thought of him screwing around as badly as we did.”

Kash snorted as he stretched his arms out and flexed his fingers. His toes were more mobile too. The pills had done their job, thank God. “I’m pretty sure he knows you had a rebel phase, darling. And I’m pretty sure he was raised to handle things when they go sideways.”

Adele flushed and rolled his eyes. “Uh, he doesn’t know anything about that, and it’s going to stay that way.” He slung his arm around Kash’s waist and hugged him until Kash melted into his embrace. Being held like this felt like the worst tease, but he could never say no. “And I’d rather him stay innocent for a little while longer. I know he’s going to fuck around in college, but let me live in ignorance for a few more months.”

Kash laughed very softly. “Fine, fine. Have it your way.”

He couldn’t resist these moments he was allowed to hold Adele without any kind of reservation. He had no idea how long it would last. If his plan worked, Adele would be on his way to his happily ever after long before Kash was facing the light at the end of the tunnel, and there was every reason to believe his new partner wouldn’t love the idea of Kash and Adele having snuggles in bed.

“Is your friend here?”

Adele shook his head. “He said he’ll be by in about an hour. I figured I’d get you up so you have time to make yourself look pretty.”

Kash rolled his eyes and made no move to get up. “I was thinking about my brother today.”

“Oh yeah? For any particular reason?”

Only that I was told I might have a terminal illness , he thought to himself. But he didn’t voice it aloud. “I haven’t talked to him in a hot minute. He, ah…he doesn’t exactly know what’s going on.”

“Kash,” Adele scolded.

He sighed. “I know. And I’m sure he’ll give me hell about it, but I was waiting until I have some answers first, and I’m not even close to getting those yet.”

Adele sighed and nestled a little closer. “I get it. I do, and he’ll understand too. How is he doing? Is he still an EMT?”

“I haven’t seen him in a while, but last I checked, he was good,” Kash admitted. Colt had gone up north near the university, while Kash had fled across the country. They’d lost touch apart from texting each other memes and videos that reminded them of their weird childhood, but they never talked about anything deep.

“Is he still with, ah…what’s her name?”

The last time Kash had talked to him for more than a minute, Colt had been dating a grad student named something like Jan or Jill. He figured his brother would have mentioned if the relationship had gone south, but then again, Kash was keeping big secrets too, so he didn’t want to assume.

“He hasn’t said, but I’m sure they’re fine.” He bit his lip, then said, “I feel like an ass for shutting everyone out. I…I didn’t know how to handle it all. I don’t even know how I feel about it.”

“I get it,” Adele told him. “You have no idea what’s going on, and the doctors are stumped. Why get people all worked up when you don’t even have a clue what’s going on, right?”

A lump formed in his throat, and Kash was suddenly afraid he was going to choke on it. He shoved that aside and quickly changed the subject. He didn’t want to talk about Colt or anything else that could lead to a more complicated conversation because he was tired of lying to Adele, but he also wasn’t ready to talk about the truth.

“Well, I should hop in the shower.”

Adele waggled his brows. “Want to impress the hot firefighter?”

“You know I don’t shit where I eat,” Kash said, though he wasn’t a firefighter anymore. Not really.

Adele didn’t call him on it. Instead, he rolled off the bed, then stood up with all the grace that Kash would probably never know again and held out his hands. “Come on, your royal highness. Let me help you up.”

Kash took his hands but shook him off the moment he was standing. “I’ve got it, you giant turd. Go clean something…unless you want to wash between my butt cheeks.”

Adele flushed again, and Kash couldn’t help but wonder if he was a little more prudish over the years, having not dated—and for staying in the closet for so long. But that wasn’t really possible. Not working at a fire station. It was second to a tattoo shop and third to a restaurant when it came to being crude on the job, but it was still pretty high up there.

“I’ll let you handle your own butt, babe,” Adele said. He leaned in and dropped a kiss to Kash’s forehead. It wasn’t meant to be patronizing, but he hated that his brain was making it feel that way. “Come to the kitchen when you’re done.”

Kash took that as a reprieve, and it was only after remembering he might have a nasty fall that he didn’t lock the door. Jesus, he hated everything about this. But it was his life now, and he had to figure out how to live it for as long as he had.