My eyes deceive me, flying to his with a fish-out-of-water expression on my face. “How did you—”
“Chase called me earlier.”
I frown at the admission.
“He didn’t think you’d tell me, so he wanted to give me a heads up.” There’s a heaviness to his tone that I can’t fully read, and I’m not sure I want to. It reminds me too much of how Grandpa Al would sound if I did something that upset him. It was never often, thank God, but enough to make me recognize the tone.
There’s quiet between us only for a few moments before I move my head up and down to confirm his suspicion.
The side of his lips kick up. “Then Chase owes me money.”
“What?”
He shrugs casually, walking back over to his laptop and tinkering on it for a few seconds until the music cuts off. “He bet me that you wouldn’t say anything, and I countered saying you would. Got me $100. I’ll split it with you.”
All I can do is stare.
When he turns to me, he’s smirking. “I told him you’d feel guilty for not telling me. I’ve got to admit, I figured you’d blurt it out tomorrow because you couldn’t keep it in anymore, so I’m glad I didn’t specify when you’d come clean, or I would have lost the bet.”
“It isn’t like you’re hurting for it,” I grumble, a little offended they’d use me as a means to gamble.
“Aw, don’t be like that. I’ll give you the Benjamin Franklin when I tell him to pay up tomorrow. He’s out with friends tonight or I’d bother him now about it.”
“I don’t want your money, Garrick.”
“Then what do you want?”
I don’t answer that very loaded question considering my response changes by the day. If he knew how many times I’ve touched myself in the bed he bought, this conversation would turn very quickly. “How would you know I’d feel guilty anyway?”
“Because that’s who you are.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You stole some Swedish Fish from Chase’s stash in the kitchen and then replaced them with a whole new bag.” His eyebrows raise as if to challenge me to argue, but I don’t. “You used the money you got from the article to get something you didn’t even need to.”
All I say is, “Do you have cameras in here or something? I swear, you and Chase always know when I do something.”
“You’re not exactly sneaky, Rylee.”
Well…true.
“I was low on sugar,” I tell him to explain why I took the candy. “I get like that sometimes after my flares. It’s not always as bad as it was that day you helped take care of me but sometimes it can be.”
“Who did you have to take care of you before when it’d get bad? You could barely keep your eyes open, Rylee. You need help.”
I shake my head. “Sometimes Tiffany would come and go, or if she could tell I was really sick she’d stay home instead of going out with her friends. But I never asked her to because it’s not fair to her or anyone who has to deal with me when I don’t feel good.”
“Why not?”
The fact he asks that so genuinely, confusion pure in his eyes, makes the flutters in my stomach rise to my chest. “It’s not anybody else’s problem. That’s why. My parents used to drop everything for me when I was sick. They’d take time off work to go to doctor appointments with me and flex their schedules to make sure one of them was home in case I needed them. In the beginning, it probably wasn’t a bad idea. Before we knew what was wrong I’d lost a ton of weight and looked…not so good. Mom cried, Dad would struggle to look at me, and my grandparents would always threaten to take me to the hospital to get fluids or a feeding tube put in.
“It was hard for them to believe something was going on internally. Most people assumed I had an eating disorder or something. But then the pain would start and the headaches…” Sighing thoughtfully, I shake my head. “When you have a chronic condition, the realization that you’re in it for life doesn’t hit you right away. The right medicines will help, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be days when you’re feeling perfect. As soon as you realize you’re in it for the long haul, you also start understanding that so is everyone else around you who cares about your wellbeing. It’s suddenly not just your life that your disease is controlling, it’s theirs too.”
He lets me take a moment to let that soak in, the words rehashing old thoughts and bitter feelings over what I’ve been handed in life.
I’m lucky. So lucky.
One—they found the psoriatic arthritis early enough that it didn’t cause too much damage.
Two—it only took a year to find the right medication combination to make me feel halfway human.
Three—despite being worried, my family still gives me enough space to breathe without checking in 24/7 like they used to.
“It’s not fair to anyone for being stuck with somebody like me, having to change their plans or cancel them to take care of me if I can’t for some reason. They would in a heartbeat, but…”
“You’re prideful.”
I offer a small “guilty as charged” smile.
“I get it. It’s not easy feeling like you have to rely on anyone.” His words are light. “If it changes anything, I’d cancel plans for you anytime.”
When I look at him, I see someone who is too good to be true, like I’m waiting for the moment it’s going to melt away like an illusion.
Sighing, I fidget with my hands. “Chase says you’d want to go with me to New York. It isn’t like I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d say no. I just know you’re busy. I’ve already caused enough of a stir for you—”
“I already bumped
