Page 104 of Never Too Late

I press a kiss to his lips, pulling back saying thank you gently, before going back in for another.

“I’m ready to go inside now, it’s getting cold.”

He stands. Pressing a kiss against the top of my head, and he holds out his hand. I take it and we walk inside, hand in hand. Together.

I carefully placed the tin of letters into the same drawer Jae told me he’s been keeping them in all along shortly after we got back inside last night. I feel comfortable knowing they’re there.

They are safe. Protected.

After spending the rest of the night on the sofa, we came into the shop today. Jae left shortly after getting here once he made sure we didn’t need any help. Since he’s started helping Bernie out at the florist, I’ve sensed a happiness I couldn’t feel before. I know he is happy with me here, but being there, it’s different. I was worried how him no longer being in the army would affect him. He joined long before he met me, all his friends and family are still there. But after witnessing the art he creates with flowers and the freedom it allows him to express, I think it’s evident it’s where he’s always belonged.

But he’ll always be my soldier.

Tyler has been on and off the phone all morning. We’re closing early because he’s helping Novah at their family bar, Prancing Pony, which her sister Jazz currently takes care of. I haven’t told Jae I’m finishing early. I want to make sure I surprise him instead.

I’ve been spending more hours of the day thinking about talking to him and Ty about an assessment. I’ve written endless lists on paper, created multiple lists in my mind. I’ve tried to think of all the pros and all the cons, and each time, I’m led back to the same answer: if getting an assessment will help them and me, what’s to lose?

“You okay, D? What are you thinking so hard about?” He stops what he’s doing, turning to face me.

No, I feel like I’m suffocating. I’m scared a diagnosis will change everything. I’m worried you’ll stop wanting to be around me. I’m terrified no one will love me anymore. I’m scared I’m going to lose myself.

“I’m fine.”

He puts down the phone, giving me his full attention.

I hate it when he does this. I hate how he knows how I truly feel.

“Please talk to me.”

“I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He’s worried.

“I’m scared that the doctors don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m scared that there’s more to me that we don’t know.” Instead of shying away and holding my head in defeat, I lift it up to look directly in his eyes. “I’m scared I’m going to lose who I am and I’m scared no one can help.”

And the fucker smiles at me.

He actually smiles at me.

“Why are you smiling?” My eyebrow arches, I can feel my face turning sour at how he’s finding this funny.

“Because you didn’t shy away. You didn’t attempt to escape. You told me how you felt while looking at me.”

I crumple the blank piece of paper in front of me, throwing it towards him. “Prick.”

“Why are you really scared, D?”

“What if seeing a doctor doesn’t help. What if we’re getting our hopes up, maybe I’m just depressed? Nothing more. Nothing less.”

He sighs, letting out a deep breath. It’s a movement he’s done more often with me recently. I’m exhausting him.

“Nobody is just depressed. Depression can hit anyone at any moment. We lost our mum, depression is normal. It just isn’t spoken about enough.” He coughs. He looks uncomfortable with his confession, and his hands move to fidget with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. I know he’s uncomfortable because it’s exactly what I do. “Instead of bottling things up, we need to talk about them. We can’t run from things. We need to face them. Maybe you only have depression, but maybe you don’t. Maybe you’re autistic, maybe you’re not. If taking you to see a doctor helps in any way, I think we should do it. You’re not alone in this, I’ll be there every step of the way. No matter what the doctors say, you’ll still be my brother. You’ll still be Dax. And you’ll still be the person your boyfriend is in love with. I don’t care. We don’t care. We just want to help.”

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?”

I try to maintain the confidence he noticed I had, but before I can speak, I look towards the ground. “I’ll do it. I’ll go for a meeting with the doctor. I’ll go for a second opinion.”

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