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Noah nodded, her expression relaxed with acceptance. "Kitchen counter."
Chapter Twenty-Four
Noah
After three hours in a waiting room and an x-ray, I learned that if I hadn't stopped drawing last night, I might have caused permanent damage to my nerves. The doctor was shocked at how I managed to still hold a pencil, let alone draw, when my carpal tunnel was the worst he'd ever seen.
"At least I'm for sure winning in something," I'd joked. The doctor wasn't impressed, and neither was Sage—who I thought would at least crack a smile. I was trying to take her approach to this problem; as long as we were in the doctor's office, anyway. Back in the car, though, I gave into the silent tears. Sage murmured words of comfort the entire ride home, but I was overwhelmed with regret and fear about my future as an artist, embarrassed Sage had to find me like that. Instead of going back to my place, she took me to hers so I wouldn't be alone.
"Did you tell Tyson about the new chapter?" I asked before being able to lie down. Talking about work provided an escape from my more pressing issues.
"I did," Sage said gently as she tucked my twists over my shoulder. "He's got it all under control. I'll finish whatever line art you didn't get to."
"It's only two panels," I assured her as I climbed into her bed. "I saved them to our shared drive."
"I'll get to them, Pastel," she promised. "Now, rest."
“Shit," I said abruptly and squeezed my eyes shut.
“What?” Sage's hand was on my shoulder in an instant.
“I didn’t finish the line art for my last chapter. It’s not ready to post. I’m so close to kraken, but without the votes for a final chapter, I don’t stand a chance," I rambled.
“Noah,” Sage begged. “We will figure that out later. Please, lie down.”
The worry in her gaze made a new flower of guilt grow inside of me. Sage looked like Amaya when she found me in my dorm after multiple all-nighters. She didn't know what to do or say to me, and I didn't know how to explain to her that I was trapped in a cycle of getting stuff done or being afraid of never doing anything.
I nodded at Sage, deciding to follow her instruction. Still, I already felt the dread bubbling in my core. Once I closed my eyes, I’d think about Inkmic, about how long the doctor said I couldn’t draw or even hold a pencil. What had I done to myself? Pushed so hard I broke. The worst part was, I still feel like I’d failed in some way, like I wasn’t supposed to crack under unrealistic pressure.
“Thank you,” I said before Sage could leave.
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“You’re the reason I didn’t pick up a pencil today.” I was genuinely about to try and draw again. I’d been ready to risk everything.
“I’m pretty sure the pain wouldn’t have let you even if I didn’t show up.”
“No.” I stared into the distance. “I would have pushed through until it was too late.”
Sage was quiet for a moment before sitting on the bed, blocking my staring contest with the wall. “What’s going on up there?”
“I’m going to be a better partner than this.” I met her gaze, determined. “I swear. Things have been so…much. I’m sorry that I didn’t take care of myself.”
“Do not apologize about that.” Sage frowned. “Don’t apologize for any of it.”
I looked down at my hand for a moment. “The last thing I want to do is be an anchor in your life.”
Sage cupped my chin and nudged me gently to meet her gaze. “I have never and will never see you as an anchor. I wouldn’t have lasted another week at Harpy without you. You made me want to be better to impress you.”
“I thought it was to beat me,” I teased.
She shrugged and laughed a little. “That, too. Point is, you're allowed to have your own shit going on, your own hangups and struggles when coming into this relationship. We both need to work on asking for help and slowing down. We need to understand that we can't do everything.”
I smiled. “You don’t say.”
“It’s going to be a hard change. It's not going to be overnight or linear. Regardless, I’m glad I get to heal with someone who knows how it feels to be torn apart.”
My eyes were stinging again. I didn't think she'd pull away, but I had expected to be handled with kid gloves, like everyone did. When Sage looked at me, she didn't see someone who couldn't handle themselves. She saw an imperfect woman who—though had a lot of issues—could make it to the other side.
