“Have you discussed barriers and sexual-health screening?”
My thoughts stopped.
“Barriers.”
“Condoms.”
“Right.”
I had not thought about them.
Not once.
Every conversation about intimacy had focused on consent, fear, pain, and memory. I had never asked what Reid and I had used before the accident or what we should use now.
“You can ask him,” Maeve said.
“I know.”
“He will not think it is strange.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you look frightened?”
“Because every ordinary thing becomes evidence of how much I don’t remember.”
Her gaze softened.
“Then make it a present-day decision. Not a test about the past.”
That helped.
Not enough.
But enough to hold.
By the end of the appointment, I could barely keep my eye open.
Maeve settled me on the couch and placed the new walking pole against the wall.
“Use it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Use it while thinking.”
She left.
I intended to wait for Reid.
Instead, sleep took me before I found the blanket.
Chapter 28
REID
Maeve was waiting at the foot of the stairs when I came down.
