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Dr. Turner stood. “Well, that’ll be all today. Everlee, let’s go ahead and get your pump attached, and I can walk you through how to use it.”
I nodded. He told us to stay there, and a few minutes later, he returned. The entire time, Tripp and I didn’t say a word. And what could he possibly say to me? I was furious he was taking away my right to decide, and he refused to change his mind.
After a few minutes of learning how to work the machine, something Tripp also paid close attention to, I had the instructions down. Tripp walked through the machine after I did, just so Dr. Turner was sure he knew how to use it, too.
Finally, Dr. Turner stood back and lightly clapped his hands together. “Alright. I want to see you keep your levels between 70 and 140 to start, so we can work on getting your A1C lower. I’ll see you again in two weeks, and we can reassess. You take care of yourself, you hear?” I nodded. He looked at Tripp. “See Amy on your way out. She’ll be the one settling the bill with you.”
He left the room, off to see his next patient of the day. Tripp looked down at me. “You want to stick with me, or do you want to go sit in the truck?”
I stood and pushed my fingers through my hair. “I’ll go sit in the truck,” I quietly told him. It was the first words I’d spoken to him since the house.
He handed me his truck keys, and when I moved to brush past him, he grabbed my hand in his, stopping me. I looked up at him, chewing nervously on my bottom lip. I hated the sad look in his eyes—hated it with every fiber of my being—because it was softening me toward him. And I didn’t want to forgive him for this.
“I know you’re upset with me,” he said quietly, “but I’m extremely worried about you, Everlee, and I never want to experience the panic I felt yesterday when you collapsed.”
I swallowed thickly. “Me neither,” I whispered. But that didn’t make the decision he was making right.
Then, I pulled my hand from his and quietly left the room, unsure how I was supposed to feel.
I blew out a soft breath as I stared at the courthouse in front of me. I wasn’t ready to do this, but if Tripp was ready and willing to give up his freedom just so I could be healthy again, then I needed to stop whining and complaining. I needed to just suck it up and appreciate what he was trying to do for me.
“You promise if I want a divorce in a year, you’ll give it to me?” I asked him once he was standing next to me.
Tripp flinched but nodded, looking like he regretted ever saying those words to me. “Yeah,” he rasped. “I swear I will.”
I nodded once and folded my hands together in front of me, drawing in a deep breath. “You ready?” he asked quietly.
I swallowed thickly and shook my head. “No, but I’ll never be ready.” I blew out a soft breath and stepped up onto the sidewalk that led into the looming building in front of us. “Let’s go get married, I guess.”
Reaching over, he separated my hands and grabbed my left one in his. Tingles rushed up my arm. He looked down at me. “I hope one day, we won’t have to get divorced, that maybe one day we can learn to love each other.”
I forced a small smile onto my lips. It was hard to do when my stomach was rolling with nerves and my heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest.
“Maybe,” I said quietly. Right then, I was still too upset with him to even think of a solid future for us. “But for now, we start this as friends. And Tripp,” I said when we started moving forward again. He stopped and looked down at me. “Thank you for what you’re trying to do. I don’t one hundred percent agree or like you taking my choices from me, but I know your heart is in the right place.” I stubbornly set my jaw. “If you ever do something like this again, I will run. And you will never find me. Clear?”
The corners of his lips tilted up the tiniest bit, and he nodded once. “Let’s go get married, Everlee.”
With my heart lodged in my throat, I quickly followed him, his hand still wrapped around mine.
I just hoped we weren’t making a huge mistake today.
CHAPTER 4
Tripp
Ranger stomped his hooves at me and snorted, shaking his head as I made my way into the barn. He was my newest horse, and I’d rescued him a couple of weeks ago from an abusive owner. They couldn’t ‘tame’ him and claimed he was too temperamental, unable to be trained. So, they’d beaten him and had been ready to put him down before I came in and purchased him.
Then, I reported his previous owners to the proper authorities. They were facing animal cruelty charges, and I hoped they got jail time for what they did to Ranger.
“Easy, boy,” I murmured. I held out a carrot in my palm. “I just want to brush you. Can I do that?”
He snorted again, but he didn’t stomp his hooves this time. I took a tentative step closer, my hand still held out. He eyed me warily, but he was quiet. Still as the dead, only his eyes moving as he tracked every move I made. He had yet to eat out of my hand, but I was hoping today was the day he would. He was getting better with me.
My brothers teased me by calling me the horse whisperer. But honestly, I’d spent a lot of time studying horses and learning their behaviors, learning how to make them trust me.
I just wished the same tactics would work on my wife. We had a tentative truce going, but she didn’t say much to me anymore. Two weeks had passed, and while the doctor had assured us her sugars were getting better, they still weren’t great.
She still had a ways to go. Things would be a lot easier to navigate if she’d just talk to me and say more than a couple of words at a time.
