Page 28 of The Lies Always Told

“Birth defect. Stop deflecting, please. That was scary.Too scary. Please….please explain.” I’m not above begging at this point, even though I can see in his eyes he doesn’t want to share. He doesn’t want to tell me, but I need to know. I bring my hand up to cup his face and softly rub his cheek. “Please.”

He lets out a breath before adding, “I had a flare up.”

“A flare up? What are you talking about?”

“This is such a long conversation, Nellie, and I don’t know if I have it in me to have it right now. There’s so much to what happened today that would take me longer than a few hours to explain, and I feel like you need to hear it all. You say you need facts and answers, and I don’t have the energy to give them all to you today.”

Hedoesn’t have the time to explain? How dare he? I’m the one who has been here thinking he would die and I’d have to explain to everyone what the fuck happened. Here I was, thinking the first man I’m interested in sharing more than a few nights with might die on my watch.

“I’m not asking you to give me your entire medical history. I want to know what that was and why it happened. You scared the shit out of me, Gus.” Petrified me is more accurate.

“It scared me too, but it’s my own damn fault for forgetting my meds. I have a hereditary condition that produces inflammation. Sometimes, it’s mild, and sometimes, it’s drastic. Today’s attack, or flare up, was bad. I forgot my maintenanceandmy rescue medication back in the villa, and I didn’t think anything of it. I must have had a few triggers, and it just unraveled after that.”

Triggers? Hereditary? Rescue medication?

“Rescue medication? What sickness?”

“It’s not a sickness. A sickness would imply I can get healthy again, and this, well, this is for life. It’s a condition, something I have to live with forever, something that has changed the way I live. I take medication every day to maintain it; I just didn’t take it the last two days.”

“What is it?”

“It’s called Hereditary Angioedema.” He’s spitting facts, answering each question without hesitation, like I’m conducting an interrogation. Zero emotion. Zero lies. Each word a death blow. Each word building a guard around my heart, protecting it from potential pain.

I wish I could control my need for information, but I can’t,and it will trump any emotional response until I have all the facts. “How long have you had it?”

“All my life? But my first flare up was five years ago.”

Hereditary angioedema.Hereditary.“Hereditary? So do your siblings have it? Does Cara know?”

“They don’t, fortunately, and I’m not sure. Maybe? We all share similar heart conditions, but this one is all mine. I’m the lucky one, I guess.”

What the hell? Heart conditions? They’re so young. “Heart conditions? Gus, please, can you just give me more context?”

He sighs as he sits up straighter. “I have issues with my heart and with my autoimmune system. It sucks. I’m twenty-six years old trapped in the body of a seventy-year-old with the will of a twenty-year-old. It’s lovely here.”

“You don’t look like there’s anything wrong,” I say, trying to dissect all the information he’s throwing my way, trying to decipher it, to understand. But my words cause the opposite effect. I’m trying to understand. I’m trying to be here for him, using my curiosity to show him I care, but my fear is that I’m coming off as an examination.

“That’s the thing about a lot of chronic illnesses. You can’t see them. I look healthy. I feel healthy, but I live with these every day. I live with the fear that something likethatmight happen at any given time, all the time. Today, unfortunately, you were there to witness it. I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Is he sorry? And damn it, I should’ve known. All the facts and useless knowledge I have in my brain for so many situations, but when I need to understand something major, they just seem to disappear? All my neuron connections short-circuit when my emotions and cognition mix. Empathy. He needs empathy, not questioning right now.

“Why areyousorry? I should be the one sorry. I just grilled you to share information after the day you’ve had. I’m sorry you have to deal with this. It was terrifying for me, but I can’timagine how it feels for you.” My emotions are all over the damn place.

“It’s okay,” he adds, bringing his hand to mine and tracing soft circles on my wrists. His fingers are so delicate on top of my faded scars. His eyes soften as he looks at me, instantly grounding me. This is the moment when I know nothing will ever be the same. I can see myself falling in love with this man, but he won’t let me, and if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t know if I should.

Somebody knocks faintly on the door, breaking the spell. It’s Nadia, the nurse from earlier, and she’s wearing a soft smile.

“Your ride is ready.” She looks at me and smiles before turning back around and leaving us alone.

“I’m stable now, so we can leave. Let’s go home.” Gus lets go of my hand and swivels his legs off the hospital bed to stand, walking over to the chair with his clothes and dressing quickly. I sit on the bed, watching him move effortlessly, and I almost lose it just thinking about how bad it could’ve been if the paramedics were late or if the reaction would have happened in the water. I jokingly said I could rescue him, and I meant it, but looking at his sculpted body and remembering how his weight felt on my body, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to. What if it happened in his sleep, and we didn’t notice? How does he live like this, knowing that at any time, his throat can swell?

“Ready?” he asks, standing by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. I snap out of it and walk up to him. He pulls me into his arms, wrapping around me, and I tense under his embrace. I’m on the verge of losing it, and the hugs might take me there.

“Stop overthinking it, Nellie. I’m okay. I promise. It’s not the first time it has happened, and it won’t be the last. I was irresponsible, and I should’ve carried my medicine. You—” he brings his hand to my face, caressing it softly,tilting it back so my gaze meets his. Where mine is probably full of worry, his is calm. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Hear that. There was nothing you could’ve done, and being here is more than I could’ve wished for. Thank you.” He brings his lips to my forehead, kissing it gently, and holds my hand as we walk out of the hospital into the vehicle taking us back to the villa.

NINE

USE ME ANY WAY YOU WANT

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