Page 98 of After We Fall

Earlier today, I set up an area in the corner of the porch where I imagined we could enjoy our time together. After sweeping, I added decorative Christmas pillows and thick, green wool blankets to the weatherproof cushion of the two-seat glider. A space heater sits in the corner, ready to be turned on, and a soft lamp highlights the Christmas tree—our fabulous felt tree that I moved from my room to the brick wall of the porch.

With slow steps, I plod to the festive corner and flip the lamp and heater on. I sink into the glider and cocoon my body in the blanket.

Even with deliberate attempts to slow my breathing, adrenaline continues to pound out the worsening headache. I’ve overdone it. I’m going to need the heavy meds. Emotion is one of those things my brain only wants in small doses right now. If any emotion, ranging from fury to joy, bubbles over the precipice, my body simply will not cope.

Dr. Ridding assured me this is temporary. Then he drilled me about what number my emotions were when the incidents occurred, and he questioned my awareness. He wanted to know if I caught the escalation in time to make an effort to reroute the pain.

“Well, on a scale of one to ten, we escalated to a twenty-three in about two point five seconds, Dr. Ridding,” I murmur into the night, my breath puffing through the frigid air. Even those quiet words pound the inside of my skull. I draw my hand up to rub the scar at my left temple, but the gift box gets in the way.

I bring the package down, inspecting it from all sides. With great care, I lift the tape from the thick, tightly wrapped paper. I unfold and set aside the untarnished paper and, with unsteady hands, lift the top off the box. Dramatic black tissue paper covers the gift. I take a courageous breath before I lift the paper. This gift is sure to deflate my righteous anger, and to be honest, I’m rather enjoying my righteous anger right about now.

A gentle wind from the east lifts the paper just enough for me to see something shimmer. Maybe sparkle. Slightly.

I don’t have much dating experience. Am I one of those women who allows a jewelry purchase to sedate an argument? That would be appalling.

The door to the house creaks open, but I don’t turn.

“You got me a toothpick holder?” Luke says.

Staring out at the glittering snow, I nod. Not just any toothpick holder. The size of a thick credit card, the silver case is sheathed in rustic mahogany leather and monogrammed with his initials. With my screen time limited, Meredith spent hours on the internet helping me search for the perfect gift.

Four booted steps sound on the planks. He crouches down perpendicular to me, holding on to the arm of the rocking chair. “You hate my toothpicks.”

“I do. I really do,” I say, having to clear my throat after my declaration. I turn toward him, pull my knees up, and tuck my feet under me, pressing my cheek against the back cushion of the chair. “But I really like you.”

He studies my face, shakes his head, then sighs. “You’ve got a headache.”

There’s no point in denying it. I might be able to fool others, but Luke can always pinpoint when I’m in pain. He says the evidence is in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say.

Regret washes over his face, and he slowly closes his eyes. “This is my fault.”

“No, it’s not. This is the fault of a baseball bat, an ice machine, and a block of cement. More to the point, this is the fault of Brandi Willis and Marcus Skelly.” Old wounds and new wounds. Always these two shall meet.

“But I got you worked up,” he says in a quiet voice. “I know better.”

“Are you saying we’re going to be in a relationship where we never fight? I’m new to this kind of thing, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to argue.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was thinking you could just always agree with me.”

I can feel my lips tip into an almost-smile.

“I’m going to get your meds. The big stuff this time?”

Then I do smile. “You are such a good drug supplier. You know exactly what I need.”

“I prefer drug runner. I don’t supply them. I just bring them to you.”

While Luke is away, I uncover the tissue from his gift. An exquisite bracelet stares back at me. Sets of alternating orange and pink gems pattern the entirety of the bracelet. The colors remind me of my mother, but the design is somehow me. Three small orange stones sit with one larger stone beneath it. Next to it, one large pink stone with three small ones beneath. They are all circular in a symmetrical pattern, and I sense they create something, but I can’t quite figure it out.

Luke returns with a water bottle, a box of crackers, and two pills. “I didn’t know if you had anything in your stomach. Would you like some crackers?”

“An all-inclusive drug runner.”

He bows slightly. “At your service.”