Page 24 of Dark Truth

I stared at her, stunned. “He’s not from the club?”

“No, but he knows what I do. He’s fine with it.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked away. “He’s great, Emily. I think you’ll like him.”

“If he makes you smile like that, Roxie, I know I will.” I took her hand, happy for the woman who needed to be loved so much more than she ever let on. I hoped she’d finally found it.

Emily

“Roxie has a boyfriend,” I said that night as Dylan and I changed the bed linen. “She’s really happy.”

I’d had the other woman on my mind since she’d left earlier in the day. I really was happy for her and wanted her to experience what I’d found with Dylan. Alright, our beginning hadn’t exactly been perfect, we’d struggled against each other, but we’d finally come to terms with who we were and what we needed to do.

That hadn’t been easy, but we’d managed it. We still had an issue or two to work through, I thought as I felt a pang of hunger growl in my stomach, but I thought we could handle it all. Together, we could handle most things.

Dylan had shown me that as he accepted my family into his life. He didn’t have to do that; he could have just dismissed them, refused to meet with them, and refused to allow my sisters-in-law to come here. He’d known I needed my family and had not only accepted it, but made an effort to be part of that group of people.

It mattered to me, I thought as I smoothed a flat sheet over the fitted sheet and then reached for the pillows.

“Oh? That’s great. Is he a boyfriend-boyfriend or an Elmo’s-boyfriend?” I knew he wasn’t judging Roxie, just curious. He looked up at me, his eyes curious and I thought, not for the first time, how handsome he was.

It made my heart squeeze sometimes, when I looked at him. It was love, I knew that, but still, we hadn’t said those words. One day, we would. Maybe not tonight. I remembered he’d asked me about Roxie’s new boyfriend after a moment and made a goofy face at myself.

“Sorry, you distracted me with that handsome face of yours. He’s a real boyfriend. You should see how she looks when she talks about him.” I sighed and pulled a pillow into a pillowcase. “She looks like a fairy princess or something.”

“You always look like that, Emily. Or like a little nymph.” He came over to my side and grabbed me to tickle me. With a laugh of joy, we fell to the bed. Only Dylan wasn’t laughing when we hit the mattress.

In fact, he was very, very quiet. I turned around and pushed him back, afraid that I’d somehow hurt him. “Dylan? What’s wrong?”

“Emily, my…” He looked terrified, and his hand gripped at his leg frantically. His eyes caught mine, and I could see stark fear in their depths. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“What?” I was too stunned to take it in or panic too much. He couldn’t feel his legs? Why not? What had I done? “What have you done?”

“It’s, fuck, call an ambulance, darling. Hurry, please.” He fell back against the bed, his face scrunched with some emotion, fear, pain, I didn’t know, I just knew he’d asked for an ambulance, and he wouldn’t joke about that.

I picked up my phone but urgency suddenly made my fingers misdial 911 two times before I got it right. I held my breath until a voice answered in a calm voice.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My boyfriend, we were making the bed, and well, he just fell over. He can’t feel his legs now.”

“Okay, ma’am, do you want me to send an ambulance?” I could hear the sound of keys being tapped on the other end of the line.

“Yes, please.”

I gave the woman at the call center our address and explained that I didn’t know what to do now.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” she asked softly, and I took a deep breath that calmed me a little.

“My name is Emily. His is Dylan. Is there something I should be doing? Put ice on it?”

“No, Emily, just wait for the paramedics. Don’t try to force him to move or anything. Just keep him calm for me, alright?”

“Of course,” I answered but felt useless as I reached over to touch Dylan again, just to reassure myself he was alright.

Dylan was having a hard time breathing, and I was afraid that whatever was wrong would make him stop breathing altogether. “Dylan, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t really explain,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “Here, while we’re waiting for them to get here, call this doctor for me. Tell him my name and that I need him out here, tonight. Cost is of no importance. Just tell him to get here.”

He handed me his phone from the pocket of his t-shirt, and I did as he told me, while he kept the 911 dispatcher informed about his condition. A man answered the phone, and I explained who I was and what Dylan had said. The doctor promised he’d be on the next flight out and hung up. I stared over at Dylan, afraid, confused, but most of all, stunned at how the playful moment had changed into this.