It guts me that she still feels that bad. I would give anything to take this away from her. I know she said there’s no cure, but there has to be something out there. Some treatment that would at least help. There’s no way with all the doctors and medical researchers out there that they would just say to everyone with whatever this disease is, even if it’s some rare disease that I’ve never heard of, fuck you all, you just get to live in agony. There has to be something.
Chapter 15
Asra
“You honestly didn’thave to do all of this.” I pull the straps on my fuzzy robe tighter, staring at all the food laid out on my dining room table.
They stayed.
Even after they saw an attack, one of the worst I’ve had in the last year, they stayed. Even after I told them repeatedly to leave, they stayed.
Once the clinic finally released me, they drove me home. Brendan drew me a bubble bath, and let me soak in complete privacy. Then they both cuddled with me, one scrunched on either side of my queen-sized bed, for hours. They never tried anything, just held me close while I slept until late morning.
I stare at all of the food again in awe. They cooked breakfast for me. No one’s ever made me breakfast, well, except for restaurants. But I’m paying them for that. This is different.
Everything about them is different.
They’re not my asshole boyfriend from college who couldn’t deal with my sensitivity to the sun. They’re not the worthless jerks I tried dating after that, who couldn’t handle my attacks and always disappeared the first time they witnessed even a tiny one.
They stayed.
“Sit, eat.” Brendan pulls out a chair while Breckin places three glasses of orange juice on the table.
“I still can’t believe you did all of this.” I shake my head while sitting down.
“You haven’t tried it yet.” Breckin pushes in my chair, then takes a seat on one side of me. “Breakfast isn’t exactly my forte.”
“Come on,” I snag a slice of bacon that holds its shape, “it’s bacon and eggs.” I take a bite and instantly regret my statement. Even with my mouth closed, I can hear the crunch. A little crunch on bacon is good, but it shouldn’t taste like charcoal and sound like I’m destroying a glass vase with my teeth.
From the other side of me, Brendan laughs. “I think you burnt it, bro.”
I chew a few more times before I can swallow. “It’s not bad.”
My attempt at flattery only makes Brendan laugh louder. “You can tell him it’s shit. I do, all the time.” He snags a stick of bacon and takes a large bite. “And this is bad, even for you, bro.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” I state before I realize that probably only made it worse.
Picking up the bowl of eggs, I plop a spoonful on my plate. They come out in one solid chunk. I purse my lips for a hot second before I school my features. I may be a self-appointed breakfast snob, but it took me years to perfect my skills. I can’t blame someone for not watching hours of cooking shows instead of having a life.Plus, it’s the only meal I actually know how to cook. I can’t grill anything to save my life, even spaghetti is a stretch for me.
I grab a slice of burnt toast and drown it in jelly as both men fill their plates. “So how is it you can cook a steak so well, but . . .” I hold up my half-eaten piece of bacon.
“It’s normally not this bad,” Breckin explains while Brendan just laughs. “I was rather distracted.”
“Distracted?” I scrunch my eyebrows, scooching around to get comfy in my seat.