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Anton’s fired up about the rumors and stories posted about us online. He thinks the reporters have unfairly characterized me. They’re accusing me of “trading up” to a Blaze player with a higher salary and better standing on the team.
But me? I don’t give a shit what they say. I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time—maybe ever—and that’s all that really matters. Anton and I have had several dates now, and the closer we get, the more I want to be with him. In two weeks, I have school finals, and then I’m looking forward to a summer spent with Anton.
When I walk past the security guard and into the apartment, the scent of cooking veggies and eggs fill the air. Anton’s making omelets.
“Hey,” he says, giving me a quick kiss as I walk into the kitchen.
“Cranberry muffins,” I tell him as I set the bag from the bakery on the counter. “Dix’s favorite.”
“He actually wanted to lie back down after he got up this morning.”
I pour myself a cup of coffee and give him a concerned look. “Is he feeling okay?”
“He said he’s okay, that he’s just tired.”
“I’ll heat his food up later.”
Anton slides three perfect omelets from their pans onto plates, and the two of us sit down to eat.
“I might have to stay an extra day in New York,” he says. “My agent emailed me this morning and said he’s trying to book a meeting for Thursday.”
“We’ll be good here.”
He looks at me across the table, his blue eyes bright in the morning light and his hair still damp from the shower. I love these moments, when our eyes meet for a few seconds and I can feel his warmth seeping into me.
“Lindsey and Alexei said they’ll both come for four days next month to hang with Dix so we can go on a trip,” he says.
“A trip?”
He nods. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go?”
“Maybe somewhere with a beach.” I bite into a cranberry muffin, which is admittedly much better than the muffins I make.
“Done. I’ll call my travel agent later today.”
He’s leaving after breakfast for New York City, where he has a few days of business meetings scheduled. I know I’ll miss him, though I’m planning to keep busy with Dix. I found a restored movie theater in the city that plays old westerns. That’s my plan for today, plus dinner at a pub he likes.
Anton kisses me several times before leaving, his roaming hands making me wish we could sneak off to the bedroom for a few minutes.
He groans with disappointment as he finally pulls away.
“Don’t wanna miss your flight,” I say, my fingertips skimming over the bulge in his pants.
“I do, though,” he says, his gaze dark with desire. “I really do want to miss my fucking flight.”
“Go.” I smile and kiss him one more time. “I need to check on Dix, anyway.”
Anton leaves, and I find Dix sleeping soundly when I peek into his room. I sit down at the kitchen table to order groceries on a tablet, and then pay some bills on my phone. I start some laundry and it’s almost done drying by the time I see that Dix is awake when I look in on him.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I say, coming into the room.
He just looks at me silently. I walk across the dark wood floor and open the blinds, letting the morning sunlight pour into the room.
Dix still hasn’t responded, so I approach his bedside.
“You feeling okay?” I ask him.
“I…dunno.”
Something’s not right. His words are much more slurred than usual. My heart beats rapid fire with worry as I get his wheelchair from the corner it’s sitting in and push it to his bedside.
“Let’s get you in here,” I say, pulling down his covers.
He’s looking at me like my grandpa sometimes does—with no awareness at all of who I am. I need to get him to his doctor as soon as possible, but I’m afraid to drive him in the van Anton keeps in the parking garage to transport him and his wheelchair. I don’t want to leave his side.
I rush to the kitchen and grab my phone, texting Anton. When he doesn’t respond right away, I check the time and realize his plane is already in the air.
Dix’s condition is unchanged when I return to the bedroom. He lets me get him into his wheelchair, but I sense it’s because he couldn’t object even if he wanted to. I hope I’m not overreacting as I dial 911. I can tell by the blank look in Dix’s eyes that he’s in bad shape.
As we wait for the paramedics to arrive, I crouch down next to Dix’s chair and talk to him.
“We’re going to watch some western movies today. And I got you those cranberry muffins you like. When you feel better you can have one.”
