The second our lips make contact; she circles her arms around me, keeping me in place. Then she pulls back abruptly.
“Another one,” I say.
And it’s her turn to laugh.
We kiss until we fall on her bed, but I stop it before it gets any further. “You need to rest.”
She rolls her eyes but agrees.
She invites me to stay with her so she has access to everything she needs just in case. Of course, I agree. But I don’t sleep. I spend the first couple of hours watching her like a hawk, and when I’m confident enough that she’s fine, I go to my apartment and get my laptop. I return to her bed and quietly press on the keys, researching everything I can about diabetes, specifically type two, and the medication and treatment needed. Turns out there are four different types of insulin. They all take different times to reach the blood stream and have different durations of effect. I don’t recall her telling me what types she uses, so I go to her bathroom to check the label on the bottle.
There’s a label on there, but it isn’t her name on the prescription.
Mr. Mark Wade.
Who the fuck is Mark Wade?
21
KY I CALL JACKSON and tell him I want to take a few days off training to keep an eye on Madison. He says he understands, but I can hear in his voice that he isn’t happy about it. Then he asks me a question that I knew was coming. “Why didn’t she want an ambulance?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I lie, moving around Madison’s kitchen to make her breakfast.
“Bullshit, Ky. I know you. I saw your face when you got in my car with her. You were rocked.”
I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “Maybe she doesn’t have insurance and can’t afford it. Who knows?”
“You didn’t question it?”
“No. Why would I?”
He stays silent on the other end.
“Just leave it alone, Jax. I don’t need this shit from you on top of everything else.”
“Fine. Have you heard from DeLuca?”
“Not since the club.”
“And you think you’re ready?”
“I will be.”
The bedroom door opens and Madison steps out, her eyes roaming her apartment.
“Babe,” I call out.
She smiles and makes her way over. “I like you in my kitchen,” she says, rising to her toes and kissing me quickly.
“Give me a call if you hear anything.” Jackson hangs up before I have a chance to respond.
I drop my phone on the counter and lift Madison until her ass is parked next to it. Palms flat on the counter on either side of her; I ask, “How are you feeling?”
She rests her forearms on my shoulders. “Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“I’m still a little weak, but I’ll have my insulin and something to eat and we can go from there.” Even though I know she said it for my benefit, it’s the answer I need.
“So...” I start, apprehensively. “Who’s Mark Wade?”
At first, she’s confused, then her eyes go wide with understanding. She sighs and pushes my arm away, then hops off the counter and walks around me. “You went through my stuff?” she mumbles.
“A; you willingly showed me your stuff and B; should we really be talking about who goes through who’s stuff?”
She starts to set the table and speaks to me with her back turned. “Do you know how hard it is to find a doctor when you’re homeless? Or how expensive medication is when you can’t even afford a meal?”
“So it’s not legit?”
“The medication is legit. How it’s obtained isn’t. I don’t know who Mark Wade is—but whoever he is—he helps me get cheap insulin.”
“You need to—”
She turns swiftly, her eyes already narrowed. “No, Ky. I don’t need to do anything! You promised! You said you wouldn’t push me until I was ready, and I’m not!” Her eyes lose focus and she gasps for breath. I get to her quickly and pull out a chair. She practically collapses into it.
I squat in front of her. “I’m sorry.”
“Can you just—I know this is hard—I get that. And I’m sorry that you have to put up with me.”
“Stop it.”
“No, Ky. If this ever gets too much for you—my past, my secrets, and now your need to be overly protective—you know where the door is. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Don’t say that, Maddy, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be—if I didn’t care. I’m just worried—”
“I just feel like you’re interrogating me all the time now. I don’t like it. I just want to go back to—”
“Existing?” I cut in.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
***
When I told Madison I was taking a few days off, she said I was overreacting, but she was happy she’d have me all to herself for a while. We take it easy, only leaving the apartment for a couple of hours at a time. We cook meals together instead of eating out every night, which I’m sure didn’t help with her diet.
It was a give and take. A push and pull. I wanted to take care of her—she wanted the freedom to take care of herself.
But the truth? I loved being the one to look after her—and I think she knew that, which is why she seemed to take a lot more than she gave.
“You take good care of me, Kyler,” she says, stroking my hair as I rest my head on her stomach. She’s watching TV. I’m discreetly on my phone, looking up how to obtain an ID for someone that has no prior proof of identity. It’s important she get the right treatment—regardless of what she says.
“I like taking care of you. It makes me feel important.”
“Is Christine like that? The nursing type?”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t getting anywhere with my online search. I know I have the best resource at my fingertips, but Jackson’s my last resort. It’s bad enough I’m missing training—he doesn’t need to know how truly distracted I’ve become.
“Do you miss her?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I answer, my mind elsewhere.
After a few minutes of silence, and me reading the same websites over and over—I finally cave.
Ky: Hey. I need a favor.
Jackson: Anything.
***
Madison: I need a favor.
Jackson: Who is this?
Madison: Madison.
Jackson: What do you need?
22
KY DOCTOR AROMA STARES at me.
I stare back.
Her eyes narrow a little.
I squirm under her gaze.
“What?” she asks.
I look around the room, wondering if she’s speaking to me because I haven’t said a word. There’s no one else here. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh.”
“Are you okay, Doc?”
“I’m fine.” She pours a glass of water, then downs the entire thing in one swig. Her eyes stay on me.
“Another one,” I say.
And it’s her turn to laugh.
We kiss until we fall on her bed, but I stop it before it gets any further. “You need to rest.”
She rolls her eyes but agrees.
She invites me to stay with her so she has access to everything she needs just in case. Of course, I agree. But I don’t sleep. I spend the first couple of hours watching her like a hawk, and when I’m confident enough that she’s fine, I go to my apartment and get my laptop. I return to her bed and quietly press on the keys, researching everything I can about diabetes, specifically type two, and the medication and treatment needed. Turns out there are four different types of insulin. They all take different times to reach the blood stream and have different durations of effect. I don’t recall her telling me what types she uses, so I go to her bathroom to check the label on the bottle.
There’s a label on there, but it isn’t her name on the prescription.
Mr. Mark Wade.
Who the fuck is Mark Wade?
21
KY I CALL JACKSON and tell him I want to take a few days off training to keep an eye on Madison. He says he understands, but I can hear in his voice that he isn’t happy about it. Then he asks me a question that I knew was coming. “Why didn’t she want an ambulance?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I lie, moving around Madison’s kitchen to make her breakfast.
“Bullshit, Ky. I know you. I saw your face when you got in my car with her. You were rocked.”
I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “Maybe she doesn’t have insurance and can’t afford it. Who knows?”
“You didn’t question it?”
“No. Why would I?”
He stays silent on the other end.
“Just leave it alone, Jax. I don’t need this shit from you on top of everything else.”
“Fine. Have you heard from DeLuca?”
“Not since the club.”
“And you think you’re ready?”
“I will be.”
The bedroom door opens and Madison steps out, her eyes roaming her apartment.
“Babe,” I call out.
She smiles and makes her way over. “I like you in my kitchen,” she says, rising to her toes and kissing me quickly.
“Give me a call if you hear anything.” Jackson hangs up before I have a chance to respond.
I drop my phone on the counter and lift Madison until her ass is parked next to it. Palms flat on the counter on either side of her; I ask, “How are you feeling?”
She rests her forearms on my shoulders. “Honestly?”
“Yes.”
“I’m still a little weak, but I’ll have my insulin and something to eat and we can go from there.” Even though I know she said it for my benefit, it’s the answer I need.
“So...” I start, apprehensively. “Who’s Mark Wade?”
At first, she’s confused, then her eyes go wide with understanding. She sighs and pushes my arm away, then hops off the counter and walks around me. “You went through my stuff?” she mumbles.
“A; you willingly showed me your stuff and B; should we really be talking about who goes through who’s stuff?”
She starts to set the table and speaks to me with her back turned. “Do you know how hard it is to find a doctor when you’re homeless? Or how expensive medication is when you can’t even afford a meal?”
“So it’s not legit?”
“The medication is legit. How it’s obtained isn’t. I don’t know who Mark Wade is—but whoever he is—he helps me get cheap insulin.”
“You need to—”
She turns swiftly, her eyes already narrowed. “No, Ky. I don’t need to do anything! You promised! You said you wouldn’t push me until I was ready, and I’m not!” Her eyes lose focus and she gasps for breath. I get to her quickly and pull out a chair. She practically collapses into it.
I squat in front of her. “I’m sorry.”
“Can you just—I know this is hard—I get that. And I’m sorry that you have to put up with me.”
“Stop it.”
“No, Ky. If this ever gets too much for you—my past, my secrets, and now your need to be overly protective—you know where the door is. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Don’t say that, Maddy, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be—if I didn’t care. I’m just worried—”
“I just feel like you’re interrogating me all the time now. I don’t like it. I just want to go back to—”
“Existing?” I cut in.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
***
When I told Madison I was taking a few days off, she said I was overreacting, but she was happy she’d have me all to herself for a while. We take it easy, only leaving the apartment for a couple of hours at a time. We cook meals together instead of eating out every night, which I’m sure didn’t help with her diet.
It was a give and take. A push and pull. I wanted to take care of her—she wanted the freedom to take care of herself.
But the truth? I loved being the one to look after her—and I think she knew that, which is why she seemed to take a lot more than she gave.
“You take good care of me, Kyler,” she says, stroking my hair as I rest my head on her stomach. She’s watching TV. I’m discreetly on my phone, looking up how to obtain an ID for someone that has no prior proof of identity. It’s important she get the right treatment—regardless of what she says.
“I like taking care of you. It makes me feel important.”
“Is Christine like that? The nursing type?”
“Yeah.” I wasn’t getting anywhere with my online search. I know I have the best resource at my fingertips, but Jackson’s my last resort. It’s bad enough I’m missing training—he doesn’t need to know how truly distracted I’ve become.
“Do you miss her?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I answer, my mind elsewhere.
After a few minutes of silence, and me reading the same websites over and over—I finally cave.
Ky: Hey. I need a favor.
Jackson: Anything.
***
Madison: I need a favor.
Jackson: Who is this?
Madison: Madison.
Jackson: What do you need?
22
KY DOCTOR AROMA STARES at me.
I stare back.
Her eyes narrow a little.
I squirm under her gaze.
“What?” she asks.
I look around the room, wondering if she’s speaking to me because I haven’t said a word. There’s no one else here. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh.”
“Are you okay, Doc?”
“I’m fine.” She pours a glass of water, then downs the entire thing in one swig. Her eyes stay on me.
