Page 21 of Stevie
“Did you eat at Nuts? Because you didn’t eat when you got here.” I ask softly while halting my movements, not wanting her to freeze up anymore.
“No,” she mumbles while shifting.
“That means you haven’t eaten at all today.”
“I did eat something,” she smirks, and I roll my eyes.
“Ha ha,” I state sarcastically.
“My medication makes me nauseous. It’s fine, I’ll eat tomorrow.”
“Are you going to tell me how to help with the pain?”
“I didn’t expect you to have this type of backyard.” I roll my eyes at the subject change but let it go and turn my head, trying to stare at my yard through her eyes. I don’t have grass. I find it boring. Instead, I transformed my yard into a tropical oasis. Trees and palms line the property and act as a natural privacy fence. My yard has a gravel path leading to a large pond with a waterfall with massive monsteras and philodendrons growing up the sides. The yard and trees are full of giant pothos of different variegations, begonias that are bold and brightly colored, and massive agave. I guess it isn’t something one would expect from me.
“Yeah, most don’t,” I say while sitting in the free chair. “Years ago, I went through a dark time,” I admit, hoping that by opening up, maybe she won’t be so tense around me. “I was really bad off, and the therapist I saw told me I should try to find something to do that demanded my attention. I think she meant a pet,” I chuckle lightly as I look around the yard. “But one day after therapy, I was walking around in this high-brow area of the city and came across this plant shop and, I don’t know, I walked in, and this woman was super nice and talked me into buying this tiny basket of pothos,” I say before pointing to the leaves crawling up the trunk of a tree that must be over a foot long. “I nearly killed it and was more upset than I thought I would be. I went back, and she helped me figure out watering, shading, and all that. Shortly after, she closed the shop, but I was obsessed with how much I was getting my plant to thrive. Within a year, I had turned my yard into this.”
“I can’t imagine you being in a dark place,” she breathes, eyes never leaving my pond. “You always seem so put together.”
“Years of therapy and a really good mask. Plus, I have to be put together.” I shrug, looking down at my dirt-covered hands. “No one wants personal security from a man with major depression and PTSD issues.”
Stevie rolls her head to glance at me. “Why?”
“Why what Peaches?” I ask softly as I stare into her pretty eyes.
“Why wouldn’t someone hire you? Having an illness or disorder shouldn’t make you less hirable.”
I chuckle, “Peaches, my job is to be hyper-aware of all possible threats to my client. Having anxiety, being startled easily, and experiencing days where getting out of bed is a chore isn’t safe for me or the client. It’s why I do more office work and don’t do many live-in positions.”
“Can I ask what happened?” I think of all the times I’ve been asked this and how I’ve told them all to take their questions and shove it up their ass. But it’s Stevie asking, and I would tell her anything… everything. Even if it’s the part of me, I never share with anyone.
“It’s not a pretty story,” I warn. She shrugs slightly while resting her cheek on her fist.
“Are they ever?” Giving her a light smile, I run my hand over my beard.
“So, I have four sisters: Leah, Spencer, Scout, and Tyler. I’m the eldest, and Tyler is the baby. I’m sixteen years older than her. I’ve always been protective over my sisters, but after the accident it became… bad.”
“Accident?” She asks, and I nod slowly.
“Before Knuckles, I was a firefighter and medic, so my hours were twenty-four on, forty-two off. It was late, and I was sleeping at the firehouse before taking my time off because it had been a long day. We got a call, and a few of the other guys had food poisoning, so I told them I would go.” I clear my throat, trying to clear the lump forming. “We arrived on the scene of a car accident; the driver had a heart attack and lost control. The car went head-on into the barrier and then spun and rolled. The driver was dead on our arrival.” I sniff and try to ignore the stinging in my eyes. “It was my dad,” my voice cracks as the scene plays in my mind. The flipped-over family car that Dad had taken such good care of. His body suspended in the seat, bleeding onto the roof of the vehicle.
“He and my sister, Tyler, were on their way home from looking at a college she was touring.” I can feel her gaze on me, but I know I will break if I look. “They were ten minutes from the house,” I whisper, looking at my hands. “Tyler was ejected from the car. It’s a fucking miracle the impact didn’t kill her. All we can guess is that she was relaxed because she was sleeping, which helped with the impact. She broke both her arms, her legs, and her spine. She’s in a wheelchair now, which is good. It’s a manual one. She spent a long time in an automatic one because she didn’t have the mobility in her arms or the strength. She likes baking and decorating cakes. I think you would like her.” I try to give her a small smile. Looking at her, I see the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh, baby, no, don’t cry.”
I move to her, kneeling between her legs and cupping her cheeks. “Please,” I whisper. “Stevie, you’re breaking my heart.”
“That was so fucking sad!” She cries harder as she pulls me into her chest.
“I–what’s happening? Am I supposed to comfort you or?” I’m so fucking confused. She’s sobbing while holding me.
“Is that why you’re so anal about everyone’s safety?” Stevie sniffles while pulling away to look at me. “Because you’re scared you won’t be there in time?”
“Yes,” I confess plainly. “I obsess over my sisters and mom… and you.” I watch the flush appear on her cheeks, and she looks away. “So, now you know why I no longer like doing too much fieldwork. I fear getting attached and something happening because my guard was down.”
“But you are now,” she points out, and I crack a smirk and nod.
“Well, I’m already attached to you, Peaches. I lost that battle a long time ago.”
Stevie
