Page 83 of Perfect Guy
Madelyn
Regardlessoftheway I left Canaan’s house the other day, I continue to stop by every day and make sure he’s okay. I take him food and do my best to support him.
My confession of love and the way he didn’t respond or acknowledge me has created a wedge between us. I was so frustrated that it just came out. I didn’t mean it to, but he has to know what I feel for him.
I also didn’t expect him to stare at me silently and watch me walk away.
I can only imagine what he’s going through. It’s been a week since he’s been home, and he’s still having symptoms from the brain injury. All I want to do is be there for him, be like we used to be while I take care of him.
He’s pushing me away, though. I feel it in the way he barely looks at my eyes and doesn’t touch me. When I try to get close, he stiffens. It’s breaking my heart, but I refuse to give up on him. For once, my stubbornness is a blessing.
I step out of my truck and knock on his door. I sent him a message earlier, letting him know I was coming over. Since he gave me the okay, I stopped at The Sweet Spot and grabbed a cinnamon roll from Joy. I’m hoping that will lighten his mood.
I’ve also been reading and found that playing card games could help with his memory and concentration, so I brought a deck in case he’s up for it. It’s better than the TV, which affects his vision and causes headaches.
My heart quickly beats as I wait for him to open the door. Nerves have consumed me. Each time I come to his house, I hold my breath and pray he’s better.
Canaan opens the door and frowns. That’s not the hello I was hoping for.
“Hi,” I force a smile.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” He scratches the side of his head.
“I told you I was coming over. You said it was okay. I brought snacks.” I lift the box from the bakery, hoping that it makes him smile.
It doesn’t. It only deepens his frown. My eyes sting, but I take a deep breath and blink, swallowing the tears.
“You did? I must’ve forgotten.” It’s not the first time this has happened, but once again, it’s part of his injury.
“I can’t seem to remember jack shit these days.” He shakes his head. “Come in.”
I step into his house, feeling awkward. Maybe I should’ve skipped coming over today, given him some space. I place the box in the kitchen.
“Do you want it now?” I turn to look at him.
“I’ll save it for later.”
Nodding, I shift on my feet, looking down at my boots.
“How are you?” I finally ask, lifting my gaze to his.
“I’m okay,” he shrugs.
“Do you have any pain? Blurred vision?” I ask about the symptoms I’ve read about.
“No. The pain’s gotten better. Still getting headaches.” He rubs his forehead.
“I read that playing cards can help with concentration. It could be fun to do, too.” A hopeful smile curves my lips.
“Sure.” His lack of enthusiasm makes my heart clench, but I shake it off, determined to help him.
I pull the deck of cards from my purse and wave them a bit. Canaan offers a small smile. It’s better than the frown he’s been wearing, so I take that as a small victory. Grabbing his hand, I lead him to the living room. I want to lace our fingers together and feel his touch for a while.
Instead, I help him settle on the sofa and sit across from him, pulling out the cards.
“Want to play Go Fish?”
“Sure.” His short responses and apathy are a hard pill to swallow. We made so many promises that are falling apart like a house of cards. He used to love spending time together. He freaking turned his backyard into a tropical paradise for me.