Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
“Don’t say that,” I breathe. “I love him. He didn’t deserve this. And he doesn’t deserve me abandoning him. Seven months isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things.”
“Babe.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “No, he didn’t deserve to lose the use of his legs. But, you’re loyal to a fault. Not a lot of girls would even hesitate before taking him up on his offer. In fact, a lot of girls might not have stuck around. I don’t know if I could’ve.”
“He’s Adam,” I say, feeling protective over him. “Everyone loves him.”
He’s a good guy. He’s the first person to help someone in a crisis. He’s funny and fun to be around. He’s competitive in a sporty way and the type to encourage others to do their best. A cheerleader and motivator. He was a good boyfriend before all this pulled the rug out from under him. He didn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of it. I’m about to choke up. I push it away.
“And,” I add, “His penis isn’t a sex organ anymore. He has to catheterize multiple times a day. He doesn’t have any sensation in it, doesn’t have any urges whatsoever. He does a daily routine to train his bowels to empty at the same time every day, but he has to wear an adult diaper, Alannah, just in case.”
She winces. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
Everything below the waist is a chore for him. Moving his body without controlling his lower extremities. He even had to deal with colostomy bags in the early days of recovery.
“I’ve been feeling so guilty for the past three weeks about pulling out that vibrator. I’m such an asshole.”
“You’re not,” she tells me, jiggling my hand. “It’s been hundreds of days, Chlo. Your life has been on hold. You’ve lived and breathed for him for all this time. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting handholding and forehead kisses and to be told your ass looks great today, which it does.”
I roll my eyes.
“We both know you, though. You really want him to kiss your forehead just ahead of giving you a hand necklace while railing you against a wall. Or… what was that fantasy you told everyone about that night at the campground? The 24/7 total power dynamic for a weekend thing? And he never did any of that. He looked like he wanted to clutch his pearls when you suggested it. He’s Mister Vanilla. No, more like Mister baked potato without butter, salt, or pepper. Now’s your chance to get yourself a loaded baked potato. Sour cream. Cheese. Bacon and chives. All kinds of butter. The works. I know… join that hookup app for kinky people.”
I snicker derisively. Adam talking about being unable to keep up with me was sobering. And I know he was embarrassed when we went on that group camping trip last summer and played drunken truth or dare around the fire. He muttered, “Grow up, Chloe” instead of getting a hard-on and whisking me to our tent to dominate me. The next day he acted like nothing had happened but from then on, he seemed to get bitchy if I went beyond one or two drinks at a party, occasionally even asking me to remember to have some decorum.
“Imagine what’ll happen to you in ten years when you hit forty and your sexual peak? Imagine having no ability to do anything about it other than dream about it, fantasize about it while being afraid to even do something about it because you don’t want him to hear the buzzing?” Alannah raises her eyebrows pointedly.
I shake my head. “It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I was a little tipsy and I’d been reading something sexy that I wrote years ago on an old fantasy blog of mine, and it was an asshole move. Thinking he’d reach over and want anything to do with helping me come when his parts don’t work anymore? It was selfish. And probably insulting.”
“Stop it,” she hisses. “Don’t do that. You’re not an asshole and it’s not selfish to try to move forward with life after half a year, Chlo.”
I sigh.
“You are not an asshole,” she repeats firmly. “His fingers aren’t paralyzed. His tongue still works, right? He’s working again. He’s working out. He’s hanging with his boys. Playing fantasy football and telling jokes and dropping F-bombs on their Discord chat while playing video games with his buddies.”
“How do you know that?” Adam almost never drops F-bombs around me. He thinks it’s rude to swear around women. I asked him to dirty-talk when we first got together, and he told me it would be demeaning to me.
She shrugs. “I crashed at Craig’s the other night. Woke up at three in the morning and heard them talking on chat in the other room. He sounded like old Adam.”