“What are you talking about?”
“I’m proud of you, your doctors and therapist are proud of you, fuck, everyone is over the moon with your progress. Instead of taking a few minutes to discuss that, you went in hard on the next steps.”
“Of course I did! It’s been eleven weeks. That man controls my fate when it comes to my leg, and he has to see my dedication and sense of urgency.”
He whips into a spot, slams the rental in park, and finally looks over. “Your dedication has never been questioned. But why the sense of urgency?”
“Are you kidding? I thought you understood how much this means to me.”
He gets out of the truck and comes to my side, offering my crutches. He walks ahead, unlocking the door and letting us in. I shuffle by him to the living room and wait for him to join me. The next sound I hear is the slamming of my bedroom door. I blow out a breath and hang my head, unsure of what is happening. There’s no time to go to him before he’s walking back through, fully changed.
“Going for a run.”
“We need to talk about this. Why are you so angry? Because I pushed for intensive rehab? Don’t you want me to get better?”
“Of course I do. You said it yourself, you’re athletic and your muscle memory is strong. You’re already ahead of the timeline.”
“I said that before reality crashed down!” I lash back. “Look at me, I’m helpless.”
“You are far from helpless,” he answers flatly.
“Everyone around me is inconvenienced with having Poppy duty. Annie has a calendar filled with my schedule. You refuse to leave me alone because you’re terrified something may happen. We fall asleep on the sofa and you have to carry me to bed unless we want to go through the hassle of putting this damn boot back on. I rely on others for almost everything. Without you around, I require a chair to shower. Do you have any idea how losing your independence feels?”
“No, I don’t know how it feels, but we see things differently. No one is inconvenienced. Mom has a calendar with your schedule, but if you paid attention, you’d know she has everyone’s schedule. Darby and Ashlyn’s appointments, the kids’ activities, birthdays, anniversaries, special occasions—all of it. You may not drive, shop, or do laundry yourself, but it’s only a matter of time. After next week, you can burn the shower chair.”
“For half of our marriage, I’ve been crippled. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Crippled? How can you say that? What about the things you are doing? Most nights, we eat a meal you cook alone and it’s always fucking incredible. You help Darby in her bakery and she loves it. Everything you did for Ashlyn’s baby shower? Helping Tessa organize my office? Taking over the job of handling the holiday gifts for my clients so she doesn’t have to? Do you give yourself credit for anything?”
“Evin, those things are menial. They have little purpose.”
“Purpose? They have a fuck of a lot of purpose for the others and me. What happened today in that office? I understand the motivation, but it was more. What are you trying to prove, Poppy?”
My name comes out gruff. “I’m not trying to prove anything. This is about me moving forward with my life.”
He flinches, and there’s a flicker of confusion that quickly turns sharp. “Your life? Did I miss something? I thought that is what we were doing. Building our life together, laying the foundation for our future. This isn’t one of your auditions.”
Something in the way he says this hits a nerve, and I have no control over my reaction. “You know nothing about my auditions or the cut-throat world I live in. Dancing is my life! It always has been. It’s all I’ve ever had, even during my darkest times! What is your problem? You should encourage me to push harder, get better, work myself to the bone so I can dance again! You have a fucking mortgage on a building riding on my recovery!”
My mistake washes over me immediately. The onset of raw pain in his eyes claws at my heart, making my legs wobble.
“If that’s what’s in your mind, then you haven’t been paying attention. Let me try to set things straight. You asked if it bothered me, and the answer is no because I’ve never once thought of you as crippled. How you came up with that beats me. When you fall asleep on the sofa, I want to carry you to bed. It has nothing to do with the brace, the boot, or your capabilities. Leaving you alone worries me, but not because you’ll get hurt. You have an unstable and fucking whacked sister roaming around untraceable. She’s been quiet, which could mean anything.”
My head is screaming at me to apologize, but I can’t form words over the lump in my throat.
“You should know this, too. When Darby had her miscarriage, I did everything in my power to educate myself on what she was going through. The physical aspect was all biology, but the mental and emotional complications were terrifying. What I learned helped guide me through. Same thing with Mom. After her fall, I researched her injuries to understand the next steps. Her situation was more physical impairment than emotionally scarring.”
A wave of nausea rolls in my stomach as pain slices through my chest, knowing what’s coming.
“Witnessing your fall, confirming your injuries, seeing the devastation firsthand shook my fucking world, Poppy. You have no idea what helpless feels like until the woman you love mourns for so many losses at once. I did the only damn thing I could do and armed myself with all the knowledge available on your injuries and recovery. Regardless of what you think, or tell Rexwell, I don’t consider myself an expert. My purpose has always been to support and encourage. Today, in that office, it became clear you’re working with your own agenda. Somewhere along the way, my protective nature interfered. He’s the doctor, you’re the patient. This is your body and your decision. Push your limits, prove to yourself and anyone else you’re trying to impress. I already think you’re incredible. I may not know what it’s like to lose my independence, but swear to Christ I’d switch places with you. Especially if it meant you could live out your dream of dancing on that stage again.
“Ryanne and Dante are here if you need anything.”
With that, he’s gone and I’m left staring at the door in conflict. What just happened? Should I go after him? Out of the corner of my eye, there’s motion.
“How much did you hear?”
“Everything since you walked in,” Ryanne answers softly.
“He took everything I said the wrong way.”
Their silence is deafening, and when I dare look at them, it’s obvious why.
“Pips, we love you, but there was no way to misinterpret what you said. How long have you been unhappy?”
“Unhappy? I’m not unhappy. I’m anxious to resume some sort of normalcy without depending on others.”
“That’s why you went to Charleston, to have the support of family around. They want to help. No one considers it a burden.”
“Everyone goes out of their way to do things for me. I miss the freedom of spontaneity. Hell, it would be awesome to seduce my husband and not stop to remove a brace. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, but that’s not what you said. It sounded like he was under the impression your routines and lives were taking shape. He’s thrilled you’re together every night, the improvements and additions to your home, the place you’ve made with his family, and the interest you’ve taken in his business. You flat out told him those things are menial and give you no purpose.”