Page 18 of Not Catching Love

“I didn’t know you were thirty-five.”

Hint, hint. Xander, I’m too old for you. I know he’s twenty-eight, but if I hadn’t been given that information, I would have assumed early twenties. Seven years is still too much of a gap. For us, anyway.

Xander links a delicate finger around one of the straps of my harness, and the feel of his skin against my midsection sends ripples over my body. It’s not like I’ve never touched him before, buthe’snever touchedme.

“Onequickdance,” he pleads.

I deserve a fucking award for staying strong. “Ireallyhave to go.”

Xander snatches his hand away like he’s burned, and I hate that I’ve put that deadened look back in his eyes. “Fine. Go. There are plenty of other men who’ll want to dance with me.”

Looking like that? I have no doubt.

The thought of other guys dancing with him doesn’t sit right, but there’s literally nothing I can do about it. If this is Xander hitting on me, he’s going to have to deal with that rejection and find someone else to have fun with. There’s no way I’ll be able to look him in the eyes or not get overinvolved next time he’s having a panic attack if we hook up, and that’s if I forget the whole code of ethics I have as a nurse. Which I can’t.

So as much as I want to believe this is us hanging out and chatting, that the suggestion to dance is a friendly one, I’m getting the distinct impression that’s not what’s on his mind.

And when it comes right down to it, I can’t go there with someone I view as breakable. Vulnerable. I want to makeeverything right for him and protect him from his demons, but the real world doesn’t work that way.

Which is exactly why there are rules about medical professionals getting involved with patients.

No matter how many times I try to tell myself that it’s only triage and breathing exercises, that excuse doesn’t hold water. When he’s having an episode, I’m the one he seeks out.

And I always make sure I’m available for him.

In some ways, I’m enabling him more than his brothers do, but it was never supposed to be this way. It started and then … never stopped. So here we are, locked into an endless loop that’s getting worse instead of better.

I know what I need to do. The constant availability is giving him a crutch, and cutting off the supply—or at least stepping back gradually—needs to happen. The feeling has been sneaking up for a while now, but even after years of being at his beck and call, I can’t do it.

I’m a hypocrite.

I lecture his roommates about them not wanting to help him, and here’s me, also too weak to actually do what he needs. I keep telling myself I’m that last line. They have the power to help make sure Xander doesn’t get to the stage where he thinks he’s dying, but none of them will do it.

I don’t have a choice.

Which is bullshit because we all have choices.

I need to start making the right ones.

Chapter Seven

Xander

The whole way home, my mood is infecting my friends. There’s that little voice telling me I need to cut it out before they get sick of me, but I can’t. The sourness in my limbs is biting. I wish we’d never gone there and that Derek had been free to hook up with that asshole who was pawing him. At least the two of them look like a pair that makes sense. A pair who can have a fast and dirty encounter in a public bathroom before going their separate ways, whereas me and Derek? There isn’t a world in any multiverse where I make sense being with him.

“Sorry, Xander,” Madden mutters. “I saw the club post that video of him and …”

And what? Thought it would be a good idea to rub my face in what I can’t have?

I’m not going to snap at Madden though, no matter how infected I am. Seven is the one who gets that side of me, and Iwon’t share it with anyone else. No one else can handle me like that.

Though I’m getting the impression lately that Seven doesn’t want to deal with that side of me either. The irrational side that I know is wrong, but whenever that side comes out, I don’t want to control it. I want to feed the gross, slimy feelings until I feel exactly as pathetic as I am.

Words are bubbling up in my chest, and I keep swallowing them back down again. It’s like acid, the way they’re burning their way to my lips.

The bus pulls up, and we climb out, then make our way home. Molly is cuddled into Seven’s side, where I always used to be, and I know I could attach myself to the other, but I don’t. I let the crappy feelings creep in deeper. Give them complete consent to ruin me. To make my heart feel like it’s being flayed.

I’ll never deserve a love like they have.

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