the day. A nurse announced her vital signs and gave her a few pills. She didn’t ask what pills they were. She didn’t even care. She just wanted to feel better.
Her life wasn’t going to stop because she’d had a stroke. Who has a stroke at thirty-two years of age anyway? The network was probably calling, wondering why she wasn’t in LA, wondering where her script edits were for the second season premiere.
“Getting angry isn’t going to help.”
Avery jumped at the sound of El’s voice, coming from the far left of the room. What was he doing there? She’d asked to be alone, even sent the reluctant Jess home to get rest. “Why are you here?” she growled. “Get out!”
She heard the click of his heels against the floor, but instead of heading toward the door, the steps grew closer to the bed. Then there was nothing. He was still there, though—watching her, assessing her like he undoubtedly did with his patients.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded. “We’re not together anymore. That was my choice for a reason. You don’t have to be here, and I don’t want you here.”
It was the first time she’d felt glad she couldn’t see his face. Her words had to have stung, and she didn’t want to see the evidence of that truth in his eyes. Most of all, she didn’t want him to see her like this, wounded and angry. Because for all of her bravado earlier, for all of her positive thoughts about her life not stopping because of this new development, she was a wrecking ball of emotion. She’d made a good living using her eyes, and knowing that there was a chance she’d never be able to see again ripped her to shreds. The only thing she wanted in that moment was to be alone so that no one could see her torment.
“You don’t have to pretend to care, El,” she added. “You made it perfectly clear at the auditorium that you still harbor resentment toward me for following my dreams instead of attaching myself to your coattails.”
When he didn’t respond or even make a sound of acknowledgment, she let out a shaky breath and tried to burrow her body into the bed.
“Please, go,” she pleaded, her chin trembling. “I’m fine here.”
“You really get on my nerves,” he said finally, with a chuckle. “Your damn mouth always got you into trouble.”
Avery’s mouth fell open, then closed again. She couldn’t even respond to that because she knew it to be true. Even as a child, it had kept her in trouble with her parents. Strong willed, stubborn, whatever you wanted to call it. She was the reason her mother went gray at forty-five.
“I knew the anger would come, Avery,” he said. “It always does when you’re scared. I just wanted to be here when you let it take over, to make sure you got it out and let it go.”
I hate you.
“I’m sure you do,” he countered, to her horror. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Avery apologized. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did. In this moment, you probably do hate me. What you said was the absolute truth. I do resent you for leaving the way you did.” His confession took her by surprise, but she did her best to not show it. “But you’re not going to get better if you keep stressing the way you do. Do you not understand that your blood pressure was so high it caused a neurological crisis in your body? All work, all day, will make Avery a dead woman.”
His blunt truth felt like a fist around her heart. El had always told her to slow down, to appreciate life. He’d warned her that her goals were great, but there was only so much she could do in a day. And she hadn’t listened. Case in point, she’d been going nonstop for weeks, appearing on late-night television, flying from coast to coast for meetings, answering every single phone call, writing until her fingers cramped up.
She didn’t expect him to understand, either. He’d never had to worry about anything. His life was golden, charmed. Born to one of the richest families in Ann Arbor brought automatic approval from the community. Avery had to work for everything she’d ever received. Her parents weren’t wealthy. Both of them had worked, from dusk until dawn to make ends meet, to support her.
“No, we aren’t a couple anymore,” he continued. “But we were friends long before I ever kissed you. As your friend, I need you to get it together You’ve had your angry moment. Don’t let it consume you or distract you from the ultimate goal.”
Avery rolled her eyes and cursed the traitorous tears that escaped. “And what would that goal be?” The sarcasm dripping from her words was intended to be noticeable.
“Rest. Let your body heal and pray your vision comes back sooner rather than later. Then get the hell out of town. That simple.”
“Avery?” Jess said. “Are you okay? El, what happened?”
“Nothing,” she heard him say. “I’m going to go. Make sure she stays calm. I’ll check in on her later.”
His soft, sure steps echoed in the room as he walked toward the door.
“El,” she called.
“What, Avery?” He was annoyed. She could always tell when he wanted to throttle her by the way he said her name, each syllable pronounced with curt precision.
“Never mind. ’Bye.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, she heard the door shut softly and wished she’d kept her big mouth shut for once.
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