Page 112 of The Lies I've Told
“Because I’m the one who pushed you, who asked you to keep going. It’s my fault.”
I let out a breath through my teeth. “Believe me,” I said with conviction, “this is not your fault. Do you understand?”
She nodded, but I knew she didn’t agree. A single tear fell from her cheek as she pulled away and shut the passenger door.
I’d done that.
I’d caused that pain.
Because I’d been selfish and kept my secret.
Because I’d lied.
Because you’d stayed.
We didn’t say much as the three of us drove to the airport, Jake tagging along since I was now officially his patient, and according to Millie, he was pretty damn dedicated, so he’d be with us for the foreseeable future.
Just another item to add to my list of things that made me feel guilty—taking a new father from his family for an entire night. Thankfully, Jimmy was already waiting for us when we arrived at the small airport, his tiny plane parked in the middle of the parking lot, like I remembered it from the day I’d arrived here a month earlier.
I hadn’t expected to leave so soon.
I hadn’t expected to leave at all.
“Damn, that looks pretty bad,” he said the moment I stepped out of the car.
“Feels fucking brilliant,” I said, looking over at him with a rather dry expression.
He chuckled under his breath. “Well, at least he still has his humor. Let’s get this poor guy to the hospital, shall we? Which hospital, Doc? Outer Banks or Virginia Beach?”
We stepped onto the private plane, and I saw Millie give a pleading look to Jake before he answered, “Outer Banks Hospital should be fine. No need to take him farther away.”
Millie mouthed the words,Thank you, to her brother-in-law before he gave a quick nod as I settled into my seat, resting my head against the back as I tried to breathe through the pain.
“How are you doing?” she asked, her fingers warm and comforting against my forearm.
“Good,” I lied.
Honestly, I wanted to throw up, but I’d rather die than tell her that and cause her more pain.
There were a lot of things I’d rather do than cause her more pain.
And wasn’t that something to think about?
My brain spiraled, going down a rabbit hole of self-doubt and loathing, as we traveled the short distance up the coast. By the time we made it to the hospital and I was checked into a room, I was sick with fear over my future with Millie.
I was on autopilot as I sat in the room with the nurse, answering questions on medical history, while Millie went to go make calls to her worried family members.
“Is there anything else?” she asked, pulling me out of my funk.
I saw her turn away from the small tablet she had on the counter, and her eyes met me head-on. I swallowed hard, my gaze shifting between her and Jake, who’d been quiet this whole time, waiting to speak to the doctor who was assigned to me.
“I, uh…” My throat went dry. “I have macular degeneration in both eyes.”
Jake’s eyes widened, flickering toward the nurse and back to me.
The nurse just kept typing before she spoke again. “Early onset?”
“No,” I replied, thankful for the small bit of research I had done after storming out of my brother’s office. Often, with many eye diseases, there would be an early onset in childhood, like a warning sign that signaled of the dangerous journey ahead. “No vision problems as a kid.”
