19. Dez knows

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Yeah, Dez was going to murder me in my sleep.

~Austin~

I checked my phone.

An hour had gone by.

I'd figured Dez would have stopped by my room already to yell or throw things or punch me in the face.

I expected him to at least send me a nasty text message about not keeping my promise.

A knock sounded on my door.

Smiling, I opened it expecting to see a large fist flying towards my jaw. Instead it was Ethan and James.

Ugh. I'd rather be punched.

"How is your day progressing?" James asked sounding oh–so-mechanical and ridiculous.

"Fantastic. I've got a date for Homecoming." I sat on my bed and glared.

"Do you normally have trouble getting dates?" Ethan laughed.

"No." I scowled. "This girl's special."

James shifted on his feet. "Not to bring up a sore subject—"

"Then don't bring it up," I snapped.

"—But," James continued. "Do you think it's a smart move to get a girl involved in your life at this point? You've refused to take any tests until the day of your surgery. You have no idea what is going on in your body, and you want to involve someone as innocent as that girl?"

"Look—" I swear my teeth were gnashing together. "It's not your business. So stay out of it."

"It is my business." James tilted his head. "I'm your shrink. Your father hired me to look after your well being."

"My father hired you because he doesn't want me to lose my shit and commit suicide like my brother. You aren't my surgeon, and you sure as hell aren't my friend. I'll do what I want — with or without your permission."

Ethan heaved a sigh. "Austin—"

"Do you need anything else?" I interrupted.

With a curse, Ethan pulled out his notebook.

"I just need to document how you're feeling today. You know the drill. You get the drugs that cost a fortune and haven't been tested by the FDA yet, and we have to write it down. I don't do this to torture you. I'm not your doctor, I am your friend, and I've been your bodyguard since you threw your first football, so for the love of God, just tell me how you feel."

I felt guilty as hell. Ethan was right. He'd been there through it all. It was the only way I could even stand having James around. Ethan was family to me, and I was treating him like shit.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice hoarse with too much emotion.

I let out a sigh and began talking about my symptoms.

"I'm losing feeling in my right leg. I'm not sure if it's because I keep getting tackled or if it's the medicine. I throw up almost every morning, my chest doesn't hurt as much as it used to, and the nightmares have started to slowly go away. I'm not feeling depressed, just anxious, like God has this giant ass timer in his hands and is just waiting to hit end."

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