I shake my head slowly, a smile playing at my own lips. I’m so well satisfied right now I’m not sure I need anything more in this world.
Turning to my side, I shamelessly watch Dax as he moves from the bed to the master bath. He turns on the light, illuminating every glorious inch of him.
He’s a tall man, but most hockey players are. What I didn’t know was how cut he was beneath his clothes or layers of hockey gear. Dax’s muscles bulge as he moves about the bathroom, removing the condom and running a warm cloth over his cock, ass rounded and paler than the rest of his tan skin. His body is an art form.
Dax turns my way, catches me ogling, and gives me a sly wink. When he turns out the light, I force myself to keep my eyes on his face.
He slides into bed, laying on his side to face me. His elbow goes to the mattress, his head to his hand to stare at me. I settle my head into a pillow, feeling a slight bit of shyness as I return his smile.
“I should have asked you about the PNH before we started having sex,” he says, which catches me off guard. So not what I thought our post-sex talk would be.
My eyebrows draw inward. “What?”
“I should have made sure it was okay. That I couldn’t hurt you or something. For that, I’m sorry.”
“But you’re not sorry we had sex, right?” I ask.
Smirking, he taps me on the nose with a fingertip. “Stop changing the subject… what’s your ‘normal’ like now you’re receiving the Salvistis?”
Dax has become educated about PNH. I was impressed what he’d learned from reading up on it before coming to my apartment, and we spent a lot of time talking about how dangerous the disease was before Salvistis came along. I had told him how I suffered horrific abdominal pain, headaches, and extreme lethargy. A mere touch could cause a massive bruise. Sometimes I’d be so fatigued and breathless because my red blood cells weren’t moving oxygen I couldn’t get out of bed. And I couldn’t think. It was like my brain wouldn’t work. Words wouldn’t come, and I’d feel lost and foggy all the time. The extreme dangers were of bleeding out or throwing a clot, and I had to depend on blood transfusions to keep me alive.
Everything had been improved with the miracle of Salvistis, but it was not a cure. We never got into what it didn’t do for me.
“Well, you’ve been around me for the last few days,” I say, letting him learn from his own experiences. “I’m pretty normal. I sometimes get hit with fatigue that comes out of nowhere.”
“What does that feel like?” he asks.
“Sometimes, I’ll wake up after a full night of sleep and won’t feel like I got even a minute. My eyes will be really heavy, and it will seem impossible to get out of bed. And I still have brain fog sometimes. You’ll eventually notice it. I might not be able to finish a sentence because the words will get lost. It’s like being under the influence of cold medicine or something. But that’s pretty much it.”
“You’re doing it again,” he says, and I blink in confusion. “Minimizing things. Like it’s no big deal.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s not a big deal. I’m just so grateful I can lead a relatively normal life now. It’s nice to get up every morning and be able to go to work. Prior to the medication, I might be able to get up and go to work or I might be in the hospital getting a transfusion.”
Dax shakes his head, his expression solemn. “You’re pretty incredible, Regan. And to think you handled so much of this on your own, living out in California while Lance was based in New York.”
“He was there for me,” I say. “We still talked by phone every day and texted more than that. He was a great support, and, of course, I couldn’t have afforded the treatment. Even with his insurance, the out-of-pocket was way too rich for my blood.”
“It’s still unbelievable to me,” he murmurs. “How something can be that far out of reach for so many people.”
“There’s Medicaid insurance. Plus, the pharmaceutical company has private funds it awards to those in need. In fact, I applied to one of their programs right after Lance died and I realized the insurance was gone. I still haven’t heard from them yet, but it takes time to get through the process I guess.”
“It’s moot now,” Dax says. “It can go to someone else who needs it since you’ll have my insurance. Speaking of which, you should be getting your new card in soon. I had you added yesterday.”