SEVEN

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The moment I stand up two days later is the moment his guard slips down, and he yelps. It's always been that way with us: when one is down, the other is up. This time, it's more literal than metaphorical. Without words, he shows me his hand. I don't need him to say anything to know he's stiffened up, and it's painful.

Another day, another symptom.

"Joel, it'll be okay," I coo. I stand beside the hospital bed and stare at him with heavy eyes. The blue chair I've got may be made of leather, but it doesn't make it any less hard to fall asleep in. I shouldn't even be staying, but when it got to eleven, and I was already half-asleep, the nurse told us she saw nothing if I stayed quiet.

He's trying hard to fight back the show of pain, but I can see it etched in his forehead and the slow, hard movements he tries to make with his fingers. His dark eyebrows pinch together, his grimace, the way he avoids my eyes.

'A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.' I want to say it, but I know he'll just scold me for quoting bible passages at him.

He takes a moment, but he recovers. I know it's still giving him trouble, though. He doesn't want me to see him like this: he's in pain, he's suffering, and he wants to save face. Joel always keeps his guard up, no matter what.

I remember when we held Gabriel for the last time; despite us both knowing that it was for the best, I couldn't stop my heart from smashing into pieces, and the tears wouldn't stop. Even then, Joel kept a straight face and an even complexion. He knew that one of us had to stay strong. He never wants to be the one to break down in front of me because he thinks it'll make him look weak when, in fact, I wish he would break down. Maybe if he didn't feel the need to be strong all the time, he may have opened up to me about his Huntington's disease.

He was my dark-haired, stubbled angel who swooped in and saved me from my mother. How did that change?

Oh yeah, they forced us to get married.

"I'll be fine for an hour while you go and shower," Joel insists.

"I'm not leaving you like this," I retort.

He moves his hand down and I know any moment we were about to have is over. "I'm fine, Aspen. I'm in the best place. Have a break."

"Joel," I reply. He just stares at me for a few seconds before I sigh. "Okay, but I'll just go and make a cup of coffee. Compromise, huh?"

He chuckles through the pain. "You're impossible."

"Some might say... stubborn," I retort. "Do you want anything?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"I hate leaving you like this, Joel," I admit.

He shakes his head again. "Aspen, I had to fight you to go home and sleep the other night. Go and get some food, do something for yourself."

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