Because of You

by all choseny (all_choseny)

Summary:

After Will Traynor's plans to end his life are derailed by a sudden illness, Louisa Clark is given an unexpected second chance to change his mind. As they both navigate the complexities of their relationship and Will's emotional and physical struggles, Lou remains determined to show him that life, even in its imperfections, is still worth living.

Notes:

I know I’m super late to the world of Me Before You—both the beautiful book and movie—but I recently read the book and watched the movie. This story and its characters have stayed with me so strongly that I just couldn’t stop thinking about them. Lou and Will have this hold on my heart, and I just couldn’t let them go.

This fanfic is definitely a self-indulgence of mine, a chance to explore an outcome that doesn’t completely break my heart. I want to be clear that my intention is not to be ableist in any way—my goal is to respect different perspectives and honor the complexity of Will’s condition while exploring his emotional journey.

I also want to mention that I’m not British, but I’ll do my best to stay true to the original characters, their voices, and the world Jojo Moyes created. I don't have a posting schedule, as I am working on an original novel I hope to publish one day. But between working on that, I hope to create a path to happiness for Lou and Will.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this alternate version of their story.

(The story starts after they return from Mauritius)

Chapter 1: Lou

 

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what normal felt like.

It had only been a few days since I’d said goodbye to Will at the airport. Although it wasn’t much of a goodbye. It was more like storming away from him and his family, unable to bear their smiling faces, knowing that Will still planned to go through with Dignitas. That felt like a lifetime ago. 

The emptiness that settled after that was worse than I’d imagined. There was a hole in my chest, one that no amount of crying or lying still could fill. Each day, the hole grew bigger, swallowing everything around me until nothing was left. 

I hadn’t left my room much since then. I couldn’t face my mum or dad, couldn’t deal with the weight of their stares, their unspoken words. Even though I knew they were relieved—relieved that this chapter of my life was over—they didn’t say it. They didn’t have to.

But for me, it wasn’t over. Not really.

The silence in the house was thick, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards or the distant murmur of the television downstairs. I could hear my mum moving around in the kitchen, pretending everything was normal. But nothing felt normal anymore.

I rolled over onto my side, pulling the blanket tighter as I stared at my phone on the bedside table. It had been quiet all day. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Then, it buzzed.

I didn’t move at first; I didn’t want to. It was probably Mum texting to ask if I was coming down for dinner or Treena asking how I was doing. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to stay here, in silence, where I didn’t have to think about what had happened.

But something in the back of my mind made me reach for it.

I grabbed the phone, squinting at the screen. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the name flash across it.

Nathan.

I sat up, suddenly wide awake, my heart pounding. Nathan never called unless it was something important. My fingers hovered over the answer button for a second too long before I finally pressed it, holding the phone to my ear.

“Nathan?” My voice came out shaky, barely more than a whisper.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could hear him breathing. That heavy, familiar sound. “Lou... Will didn’t make it.”

For a second, I didn’t understand what he was saying. My brain couldn’t process it. “What?”

“He didn’t make it to Switzerland.”

The words hung there, heavy and thick, and I felt the world tilt beneath me. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself, but it was useless. A gambit of emotions watched over me—relief came easy. Confusion. Then relief again, followed by a slew of questions my mouth couldn’t form. 

Will didn’t make it. He was still here. Still alive.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “But... how?”

“He got sick,” Nathan said quietly, his voice softer now. “Really sick. He couldn’t travel. They admitted him to the hospital. It was close, Lou.”

“Sick?” 

“Yeah. A pulmonary embolism—PE. I guess I didn’t notice the signs when we returned from Mauritius ‘cause he looked good. Healthy.” 

An image of Will came to mind looking tanned, his skin glowing as if the sun had soaked into each pore and lingered. She’d never seen him look that… well before, making his decision to die even more difficult to accept. 

Nathan’s voice continued to fill my ear. “The doctors say he must have developed the clot on our trip back, and it traveled to his lungs.” 

My heart dropped, and I gripped the phone tighter, my mind racing. Will was still here. He was still alive. I didn’t know if I should feel relief or terror. Probably both.

“He’s stable now,” Nathan continued, his voice filling the silence. “But he needs you, Lou. More than ever.”

I blinked back the tears that were already starting to spill over, my chest tight with the weight of everything I couldn’t say. I bobbed my head vigorously. I didn’t have to think about my answer; the words flowed freely. “I’ll come. Tell him... tell him I’ll come.”

Nathan let out a slow breath, one that sounded almost like relief. “I’ll let him know.”

We hung up, but I couldn’t move. I sat there, the phone still clutched in my hand, my mind spinning. Will hadn’t gone through with it. He hadn’t left. He was still here. Under the relief, I didn’t know what else to feel… guilt perhaps. I thought he left, got on some plane to Switzerland, and I hadn’t been there with him like he asked. 

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t watch the man I love die, helpless to do anything about it. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were unfinished between us—that I should have been there for him no matter how painful. 

And now… now I don't have to think about that anymore. By some twist of fate, he couldn’t make it to Switzerland, and he was still here. 

Before I could fully process the thought, the phone buzzed again, and I glanced down at the screen, my heart sinking when I saw the name this time.

Globe Reporter.

The tears hovering at the edge of my eyes finally spilled over. Patrick. 

I recalled our row just days ago. I still couldn’t believe that he sold Will’s story, sold my story to the papers as if it was just another headline, another scandal for people to gawk at. The Globe had been hounding me ever since. I could bear the shame of it, but I hated knowing that Will’s name was out there for public consumption and speculation. They didn’t know Will or his family. It wasn’t their right to judge any of us. 

I ignored the call, tossing the phone aside as I wiped my face, trying to pull myself together.

I couldn’t deal with them right now. I couldn’t deal with any of it. All I could think about was Will—still alive, still here, waiting for me.

I pulled myself out of bed, wiping my eyes as I grabbed my coat. I couldn’t stay here. Not in this house, not with the weight of everything pressing down on me.

I had to see him.

I rushed down the stairs, my footsteps heavy as I rushed to the door. I wanted to leave before anyone noticed I was missing; otherwise, I’d never make it out of the house. Knowing my family, they’d have questions that I didn’t have the answers to. 

“Lou?” Treen looked up from her textbook as I rushed past the living room. 

“Can’t talk. Will’s in the hospital.” 

She frowned as she unfolded herself from the sofa and placed the book aside. “Right. In Switzerland.” Treen stepped closer, concern written on her face. “Have you changed your mind about going?” 

I shook my head. I didn’t have time to explain everything to her. For once, I was at a loss for words. “He didn’t make it—I mean, he got sick. He’s here in the hospital.” 

Treen’s eyes widened, and she rushed to me, grabbing my stiff hands. “Oh, Lou! This is good news, right? He didn’t go through with it.” 

“No,” I said, unable to believe it until I saw him with my own eyes. 

“I’ll tell Mum and Dad. They’ll want to know.” 

I grabbed her arm, digging my fingers into her skin without meaning to. “Not yet. I just have to go, Treen. I need to leave now.” 

She nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “Then let’s go,” she said, grabbing the keys to Dad’s truck from the key hanger on the wall. 

The ride to the hospital felt like it lasted hours. The streets blurred past me, but all I could think about was Will. What would he say when he saw me? How was I going to face him after everything we’d been through? I sat in these thoughts as Treena navigated the familiar streets of our small town. Left. Right. Left. Right. She didn’t try to talk to me, sensing I couldn’t engage in conversation. 

When we finally pulled up to the hospital, she parked the car and sat there momentarily as I tried to catch my breath. I hadn’t been here in so long. The smell of antiseptic and the cold, sterile walls always made me feel small like I was shrinking in on myself. But Will was in there, just through those doors, waiting for me. 

“Call me if you need me?” Treena grabbed my hand, giving it a light squeeze. 

“I will,” I said, sliding out of the passenger side and closing the door behind me. 

I walked inside, my heart pounding as I went to room 505. When I reached it, I paused outside the door, taking a deep breath.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, yet here he was, alive and waiting for me. 

 

Chapter 2: Will

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The hospital room was quiet except for the faint beep of the machines, steady as my breath. Rain pattered against the window, the drops running down in uneven paths, but I barely noticed. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be gone.

I looked down at my hands, limp on the thin blanket covering my legs, and wondered how much longer this body would betray me. PE had kept me alive, kept me here. I had planned the trip to Switzerland down to the letter—I waited six long months to finally have my freedom again. But now, all I had was time I never asked for.

Time. A cruel joke, really.

Nathan told me that Lou would be coming back. She had left after... after everything at the airport. I hadn’t expected her to come. I wasn’t sure I wanted her to see me like this. Even though I had asked her to be with me in my last moments, part of me was glad that her last image of me wouldn’t be in a hospital bed. I prepared myself to go through with it without her, just as I had planned six months ago, but not having Lou there felt wrong somehow. She’d become such a big part of my life. I found that I needed her with me. I needed to carry her face with me to wherever I went next.

 I stared at the gray sky; I knew she was out there, just beyond the door, waiting.

I wasn’t ready to see her. I wasn’t ready to face the reality that she was still here and that I was still alive.

The door creaked open, breaking through my thoughts. I didn’t turn my head, didn’t need to. I knew it was her. The faint scent of something floral followed her, cutting through the sterile air.

“Hi,” Lou’s voice was soft and cautious as if she wasn’t sure what she’d find when she came in.

I didn’t answer right away. What could I say? She shouldn’t be here. She should have been far away by now, free of this... mess. Free of me. 

Paris. You should be preparing for Paris, Clark. 

The tension in the room was thick, and for a long moment, neither of us spoke. The beeping of the machines seemed louder than before, each sound a reminder that I was still breathing.

She moved closer, her steps quiet against the linoleum floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her sit down in the chair next to me, the one Nathan always used. She held a paper cup, steam rising faintly from the surface.

“You missed your appointment,” she said, not looking at me.

I clenched my jaw. “I didn’t miss anything. My body decided for me.”

There it was—the bitterness, the anger that sat heavy in my chest. I should have been gone by now. The choice should have been mine. But instead, I was here, stuck, with nothing but time and a future I didn’t want—in a body I didn't want. 

Lou didn’t flinch at my words. She never did. Instead, she set the cup down on the small table beside me. The faint click of the styrofoam against the wood echoed in the silence.

“I brought you tea,” she said, her voice careful.

I didn’t look at the cup. “I don’t want tea.”

“I figured.”

She was quiet again, and I could feel her eyes on me. I hated it—hated the way she looked at me like I was something fragile, something that could be fixed. I wasn’t. There was nothing left to fix.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” I muttered, keeping my gaze fixed on the rain outside. The words were sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. I wanted her to leave. Needed her to leave.

But she didn’t. Lou never did what I expected.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and there was something in her voice—something soft but firm. Something that told me she wasn’t giving up.

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle over me. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t. This wasn’t about her. It never was. 

I didn’t know what to say. The rain outside blurred the world, everything slipping further away, and yet Lou was here, as solid as ever. I should have been relieved that she hadn’t left the room after my words. I should have been grateful. But all I could feel was the slow burn of resentment--resentment that she stayed, that she thought there was something left worth saving.

She shifted in her chair, but I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. The tea sat untouched on the tray, the faint scent of camomile filling the space between us. She had tried. She always did. But this time, there was nothing left to fix.

“I know you’re angry,” Lou said quietly, her voice careful, like she was approaching a wounded animal. She wasn’t wrong.

“You think?” My words came out harsher than I intended, but I couldn’t take them back. The bitterness lingered, twisting everything inside me.

Lou didn’t flinch. She never did. Instead, she just sat there, her hands resting lightly in her lap as if waiting for me to say something else. Waiting for the part of me that still had some semblance of humanity to break through.

But that part of me was long gone.

“I’m not angry, Clark,” I muttered, shifting my gaze back to the window. “I’m done.”

“Done with what?” Her voice was steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of emotion, the question she was really asking. Done with her? Done with this life? Or both?

“Everything.” The word slipped out before I could stop it, and it felt final, like something I had been holding onto for too long. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Lou was silent for a long moment. I could feel the tension in the room, the way the air thickened with unspoken words.

“You didn’t want to live when I met you,” she said softly. “But you’re still here.”

I let out a low, humorless laugh. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You do now.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, cutting through the numbness that had settled over me for months. I turned my head to look at her, then really looked at her. She was still the same Lou—her ridiculous shoes and crazy dresses, her quiet strength, the way she seemed to hold the weight of the world on her small shoulders.

But there was something different now, something in her eyes that told me she wouldn’t back down. She wasn’t asking for permission to stay. She was telling me that she was here, and she wasn’t leaving. Not this time.

I wanted to push her away, to tell her to go and live her life, to find someone who wasn’t broken beyond repair. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just stared at her, the silence between us heavy, the air thick with things I couldn’t say.

Chapter 3: Lou

I watched him lying in that hospital bed, trying to reconcile the man looking back at me now to the one I left at the airport. He looked so small swaddled beneath the hospital blankets. What happened to the Will with the radiant sun-kissed skin and wind-blown hair? He’d gone pale again with violet circles beneath his eyes. The PE had nearly drained the life out of him, leaving behind a Will-shaped husk. 

“You think this is a choice?” he snapped.

I could see the anger simmering below the surface, barely contained by the trappings of his body. I recognized the rage beneath the surface and stopped myself from reaching for him. He wasn’t looking for comfort. I tried to put myself in his shoes, to understand his anger. I would never know what it’s like. I would never understand his decision either. I want to support Will and love him through this, but I can’t stop trying. It’s just not in me to give up. 

“Isn’t it? Look Will.” I flapped my arms. “Look around us. We’re not meant to be here. You were supposed to be lying in a box somewhere. And me… I don’t know. But we’re here now. You’re here now. This isn’t a mistake.” 

He lifted a brow. “You expect me to believe I’m here by some twist of fate? Divine intervention? Where was that divine intervention the day I got mowed over by a motorbike, huh?” 

I winced. What could I say to that? I can’t pretend to know about those things. I’m just some girl who, up until six months ago, served tea and coffee for a living. What did I know? 

“Will…” My voice faltered. “All I’m asking—I mean, I’m just saying that this wasn’t an accident.” 

“Right. Just the universe having a laugh at my expense.” 

I sighed and stood up. The night on the beach came flooding back to me; all the hope and pain crashed down like a battering wave. I’m not sure if I can do this again. “Fine, Will. Go to Switzerland. I see there’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind.” 

My eyes bore into his for several long, uncomfortable minutes. His face remained impassive, hard , and determined to ignore what was happening. Finally, when I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore, I turned away and headed for the door, my heart too heavy with the weight of loving him. 

“I don’t know how to do this.” 

For a moment, I wasn’t sure I heard him right. The man who always had an answer, who always had control, was admitting that he didn’t know what to do. His voice, soft and hesitant, stopped me in my tracks. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was laced with something else now. Fear, maybe. 

Blood rushed in my ears as I forced myself to slowly turn around. “You don’t have to know. You just have to try.”

Try. It seemed like such a simple word. But for a man like Will, it would seem impossible. Like asking him to walk again and be the man he used to be. But I didn’t know that man. I don’t want him to be that man. I want him to try and see that he could still make this life meaningful. He was so close. If he just tried… really tried this time. 

“And if I can’t?” he asked. 

I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I let it out, slow and careful, like I was afraid that even the smallest movement could break the moment. 

“Then we’ll figure it out together.”

I glanced over at him, the sharp line of his jaw still set in that hard, stubborn way. Will Traynor didn’t give in easily, and I knew better than to think this meant he was suddenly on board with my plan. But it was something. It was a start.

I crossed the room and laid my hand on his shoulder, bridging the emotional connection between us with physical touch. For days now, I had imagined what I might say if I ever saw him again—after everything that had happened, after everything I had said on that beach. I thought I’d be ready. But seeing him here, looking so... so tired, so worn down by life—it made everything feel different. It made everything feel real.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Will muttered, breaking through my thoughts.

I blinked, startled by his voice. “What?”

“You’re pale. Are you sure you don’t need to lie down?” There was a faint edge of humor in his words, but it was tired like he was using it to hold something darker at bay.

I smiled just a little. “I’m fine. I’m just... relieved, I guess.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Relieved?”

I nodded, gripping my skirt to stop from fidgeting. “I didn’t think you’d... well, I didn’t think you’d listen. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear what I had to say.”

“Well, I haven’t agreed to anything. Yet.” His lips curved into a faint smile, putting me at ease. 

“I haven’t proposed anything yet.” 

“I know, but I’m guessing it will include lots of adventures.” 

“You know me so well.” I smiled. 

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he just looked at me, and I could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle he was fighting with himself. Will was stubborn. He always had been. But he wasn’t heartless. I knew that much.

“You always were persistent,” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost resigned. “I guess that hasn’t changed.”

I laughed, the sound more nervous than I intended. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

There was a beat of silence, and I shifted on my feet, my nerves still buzzing under my skin. I wasn’t sure what to do next—wasn’t sure what came after this moment. I had been so focused on getting him to agree to stay, to try, that I hadn’t thought much about what would happen next.

“So,” I said, the word awkward and heavy between us. “What do you say? About trying?”

Will didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted back to the window, the rain still coming down in soft, steady streams. The tension between us felt thick, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been when I first walked into the room. There was space now—space to breathe, space to think. And space to hope.

“I guess we take it one day at a time,” he said, his voice low.

I nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at me. “Yeah. One day at a time.”

It felt like such a small thing to agree to, but it wasn’t. It was everything. For Will, it was everything.

The bus ride home felt longer than usual. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened with Will today, or maybe it was the gnawing feeling in my gut that things with my family weren’t getting any better. Either way, by the time I pulled up in front of the house, I was already bracing myself.

I opened the door, slipping my shoes off quietly, hoping for once that I could just sneak up to my room without anyone noticing. But, of course, that was too much to ask.

“Louisa,” Mum’s voice rang out from the kitchen, sharp as ever.

I winced, closing the door softly behind me. “Yeah, Mum.”

I heard the clatter of dishes as Mum set them down a little harder than necessary before appearing in the doorway. She wiped her hands on a tea towel and looked at me like she always did now—like I was a puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out.

“You missed dinner. Where have you been?”

I shifted uncomfortably, slipping out of my raincoat. “Treen didn’t tell you?” 

She shook her head. 

 “I was with Will. He didn’t go to Switzerland. He’s alive.” My words came out in a rush as I explained everything to her. 

Mum’s lips tightened, the unspoken words hanging heavy between us. She didn’t need to say it—she never did. I knew how she felt about Will and how she felt about my involvement with his plan. How I wanted to be with him even though it went against everything I always thought I believed in. I held my breath, careful of saying the wrong thing. She made me feel like I was walking through a minefield every time we spoke. 

“I’m trying to understand, Louisa,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less tense. “I really am. But this isn’t right. This... man. He’s dragging you down with him. You’ve already done enough. You tried to help him, and he still made his choice. Now you’re telling me he didn’t go through with it. So what does this mean?” 

“It means he’s going to try.” I shrugged. I don’t know how I can make her understand. 

“For how long? One month? Two? Then what? He’s going to fly off to that godforsaken place and what—? I’ve seen what this has been like for you. I can’t watch you go through that pain again. I like Will, I do, but we can’t be part of this anymore. There’s nothing you can do for him.” 

“I’m not doing it for him,” I snapped, surprising myself with the sharpness of my voice. “I’m doing it because I love him. Because I care, and he needs me.”

Mum flinched slightly, but she held her ground, her eyes searching mine like she was waiting for me to break. “And what about us? What about your life?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say anything, Dad appeared in the hallway, his expression tight. He didn’t say anything, just watched the tension unfold like he always did, too unsure of whose side to take.

“Mum, I don’t expect you to understand,” I muttered, my shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. “But I need you to trust me. This is important.”

“Important?” Mum’s voice wavered. “Important enough to ruin everything?”

Before I could ask what she meant, she stormed back into the kitchen, leaving me standing there with Dad, the air between us thick with unspoken questions.

“She’s just worried about you, Lou,” Dad said quietly, his voice heavy with the same exhaustion I felt. “We all are.”

“I know,” I whispered, rubbing my hands over my face. “But I’m not giving up on him.”

Dad gave me a small, tight smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Patrick called again.”

My stomach dropped. “What did he want?” I asked, already dreading the answer.

Dad shrugged, his face carefully neutral. “He wanted to explain himself. Said he thought you might be ready to talk.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, anger bubbling up inside me. “I don’t want to talk to him. Not after what he did.”

Dad nodded like he understood, but I could tell he didn’t fully grasp the weight of it. He didn’t know Will, didn’t know the betrayal I’d felt when I found out what Patrick had done. To him, it was just another argument, another hurdle we’d have to get over.

But this was different.

“I know you’re upset, Lou,” Dad said gently, stepping closer. “But holding onto this... it’s not going to help anyone. Maybe you should hear him out.”

I shook my head, the anger rising in my chest again. “No. He crossed a line, Dad. He tried to sell Will’s story—my story—to the papers. He didn’t care about what it would do to us, to Will. All he cared about was himself.”

Dad looked at me for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “He thought he was helping, Lou.”

“Well, he wasn’t,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. “And I don’t need his help.”

Dad didn’t push me any further; he just gave me a sad smile before heading back into the living room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stood there for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

The house felt smaller somehow like the walls were closing in on me. Between the tension with Mum, the fallout with Patrick, and everything going on with Will, I felt like I was drowning. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep doing this—juggling all these pieces of my life without dropping them.

But there wasn’t another choice. I had to keep going. For Will. For me.

I headed upstairs to my room, closing the door softly behind me. The quiet was a welcome relief, but it didn’t do much to ease the knot of tension in my chest.

I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out my phone and scrolling through the texts I hadn’t answered—most of them from Patrick. The most recent one popped up on the screen, the words glaring back at me.

Can we talk? I’m sorry.

I stared at it for a long time, my finger hovering over the reply button. But no matter how much I wanted to respond, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet.

I tossed the phone aside, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

I didn’t have all the answers, but I knew one thing: I wasn’t giving up on Will. And I would do whatever it took to make him see that life could still be worth living. For both of us.

Chapter 4: Will

Notes:

I want to thank those who are keeping up with this fic. I realize I am about a decade too late, but as I previously mentioned, I could not let these amazing characters go. I want to explain that this fic will be a slow-burn story. I feel it would take Will some time to accept his new situation. His choices were based on wanting autonomy, a sense of control, and the ability to choose for himself. I can't see him easily accepting choosing life. I want to assure you that there will be joy, happiness, and lots of love in this story. I also pledge to give these two the happy ending they deserve. However, I want to make sure that it is grounded in realism.

Also, if you're enjoying the story, drop me a line. I'd love to hear from you and interact with you!

 

The rain stopped by the time they wheeled me out of the hospital, but the sky still hung low and gray, like the weather hadn’t quite made up its mind about what it wanted to do next. Fitting, really. The whole world seemed stuck in limbo, much like I was.

Nathan pushed the chair from behind, steady as always, while Lou walked a few steps ahead, talking quietly to one of the nurses about something or other. I wasn’t listening. The sound of her voice was enough. It filled the space, keeping things from feeling too empty.

The hospital had let me go sooner than I’d expected, though I didn’t care either way. Hospitals were all the same—sterile, suffocating places where I felt like I was constantly under a microscope. At least now, I could be miserable in the comfort of my own home.

Lou had insisted on riding with me, of course. She’d been glued to my side since the moment she stepped back into my life, and I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or frustrated by it. Probably both. She was a force of nature, that one, and I didn’t have the energy to fight her right now.

I stared out at the car as Nathan opened the door, the familiar black leather waiting for me. Lou had already hopped in the front, her hand resting on the passenger door, ready to help if needed.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else.

Nathan grunted something in response, his grip steady as he secured me onto the lift and into the car. It was a routine we’d done countless times before, but every time felt like a fresh reminder of how far I’d fallen. I used to get in and out of cars without thinking about it. Now, it was an ordeal.

Lou shifted in her seat, glancing back at me. “Comfortable?”

I shot her a look. “As comfortable as I’m going to be.”

She didn’t take offense. She rarely did. Instead, she turned back around, her fingers drumming lightly against the dashboard as Nathan settled into the driver’s seat. My parents followed close behind in their car. 

The drive was quiet; the road stretched before us in a long, winding line of gray. I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure I wanted to say anything. I could feel the weight of the hospital still clinging to me, the same old exhaustion that I couldn’t shake.

But Lou didn’t fill the silence, and for that, I was thankful. She just sat there, her head resting against the window, her eyes distant. It was strange how she could make even the smallest moments feel like they mattered. I had never known anyone like her.

I closed my eyes, letting the hum of the car and the steady rhythm of the road lull me into something close to calm. The hospital was behind us now, but the reality of what lay ahead still pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. I had given her the time she asked for. And I still didn’t know if I’d made the right choice. The window for Switzerland had passed, and I’d been shuffled down to the bottom of the waitlist. They advised me it could take months for my case to be reviewed again. 

We pulled up to Granta House, the familiar sight of the large stone facade greeting me like an old friend I didn’t particularly want to see. It felt too big now, too empty. 

Nathan opened the car door and began transferring me out of the car, his movements quick and efficient. I let him do it without my usual snark, too tired to protest. Lou stood nearby, watching, her eyes following every move.

The cool air hit me as soon as I was out of the car, and I took a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs. It was strange being home again. The house hadn’t changed, but I had. I was certain I didn’t belong here anymore.

Lou stayed quiet as we went inside, her presence constant but unobtrusive. She wasn’t pushing, wasn’t asking for anything, and for that, I was grateful. I needed space. I needed time.

But as the door closed behind us, sealing us off from the outside world, I realized that time was the one thing I wasn’t sure I could handle anymore.

“Is there anything you need, darling?” my mum asked. She fidgeted with the cross at her neck. 

“I’m fine, Mother.” 

She looked around the annex as if trying to find something to do, some task she could complete so she could feel useful. 

“Perhaps we should allow Will to get some rest. He’s had a trying day,” Dad said, placing a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched. 

I looked between them, sensing an underlying tension. Something was happening, but I was too exhausted to care. 

“I can help!” Lou’s voice filled the tense silence. “I mean, if you want. I know I’m not here in any official capacity—or I don’t think I am unless you want me to come back. It’s really up to you, Mrs. Traynor.” 

Mum nodded, pinching her nose. “I suppose that’s something we should discuss, Louisa.” She glanced at me. “Of course, it's Will’s decision to keep you on as his carer.” 

I sighed. Must we talk about this now? I saw Lou standing at my side just on the periphery of my sight. But even though I couldn’t see her face, I could feel the hope spilling out of her, engulfing the room with its energy. 

“I am tired,” I said. “Can we talk about this another time?” 

“Of course.” My Dad squeezed my shoulder. “Why don’t you get some rest? Your mother and I will be one buzz away.” He nodded toward the intercom. 

“Alright, Mr. T, let’s get you into bed.” Nathan grinned at me in his usual affable way. 

Right. With my illness and delayed trip, I’d forgotten about Nathan. Like Lou, his position hung in the balance as well. I hadn’t even asked if I was interfering with his clients. Surely, he’d have lined up someone new. After all, my presence was quite unexpected. 

“Do you need me?” Lou asked. 

Nathan looked at me, his eyes questing. I glanced at Lou. “I think Nathan will be fine today, Clark. But stick around. I’d like to see you once I’m settled.” 

Her face dropped, but she nodded, pressing her lips together. I bit back a smile, knowing that her silence was an exercise in willpower. I don’t want to admit it, but having her here is comforting.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

Nathan had already disappeared somewhere, probably to give me space or just to give Lou and me a moment alone. Either way, it didn’t matter. I didn’t want a moment alone. I wanted to feel something—anything—that wasn’t this constant, numbing emptiness.

Lou hovered nearby, not saying much, just watching. I could tell she was waiting for something. Maybe for me to say something, maybe for me to lash out. I didn’t know. All I knew was that being back here felt wrong. It felt like I didn’t belong in this space anymore.

“It’s like nothing has changed,” she said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was careful, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay to speak. 

I let out a humorless laugh. “I know. It’s odd, really. I hadn’t given this place any thought. Didn’t think about what would happen… after.” 

She walked around the room slowly, her fingers brushing over the furniture like she was trying to take in every detail. I watched her, unable to stop the small tug of something in my chest. Lou was like that—always moving, always trying to make sense of things in her own way.

“It feels like a museum,” she said, her voice soft. “Like a place that’s been stuck in time.”

I didn’t respond. What could I say? She was right. The annex hadn’t changed, but I had. The space felt frozen, a reminder of the life I had left behind.

“It’s surreal,” I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. 

Lou stopped mid-step, turning to face me. Her eyes softened, but she didn’t move. She stood there, looking at me like she could see right through me.

“I know,” she said simply. “I thought you were… gone.” Her breath hitched, and I heard the tears in her voice. “I’ve seen you every day, but being back here makes it seem more… Like I don’t know like this is really happening. Like someone heard my wish.” 

I didn’t know what to do with that. She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, like me being here, wasn’t the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. 

“I can’t give you what you want,” I said, my voice low. I looked down at my legs, thin and useless.

Lou didn’t respond right away, and I heard the faint rustle of fabric as she sat down in the chair across from me.

“You don’t know what I want,” she said quietly.

I clenched my jaw, the words stuck in my throat. She was wrong. I knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted me to stay. She wanted me to live. But I didn’t know if I could do that—not for her, not for anyone.

“I’m not who I was,” I said finally, forcing the words out. “I’m not... him anymore.”

“I know.” Her voice was calm, but something was behind it—something stronger. “I’m not asking you to be who you were, Will.”

I looked up at her then, meeting her gaze for the first time since we’d gotten home. Her eyes were steady, unwavering like she had already made up her mind about me.

“I’m asking you to be who you are now. The person you are with me. Who we are together,” she said softly. “That’s enough.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that who I was now wasn’t enough for anyone—not for her or myself. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just stared at her, the silence stretching between us.

She didn’t push, didn’t press for more. She just sat there, waiting. Always waiting. And I wasn’t sure I wanted her to stop.

Chapter 5: Lou

The house was dark when I arrived. The soft glow from the streetlights cast long shadows across the front garden, but everything else was quiet, still. I pushed open the front door, slipping inside quietly. For once, I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. My head was still spinning from the day at the hospital, from seeing Will again, from the weight of everything hanging between us.

I just needed a moment to breathe.

But as soon as I stepped inside, I knew I wouldn’t get it.

“Lou.”

His voice came from the corner of the living room, low and hesitant, and I froze. Patrick. I hadn’t expected him to be here. Not now. Not after everything.

I turned slowly, and he stood by the window, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He looked out of place—like he didn’t belong here anymore. And maybe he didn’t.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He winced but didn’t move. “I wanted to talk to you.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. I didn’t want to do this. Not now. Not after the day I’d had. But the look on Patrick’s face told me he wouldn’t leave until we’d had it out.

I dropped my keys onto the hallway table and stepped into the living room, crossing my arms over my chest as I faced him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Patrick’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, thick with everything unsaid.

“You can’t ignore me forever, Lou,” he said quietly. “I know you’re angry, but—”

“Angry?” I let out a bitter laugh, cutting him off. “Patrick, you sold Will’s story to the papers. You didn’t care what it would do to him, his family, or me. You didn’t think about anyone but yourself.”

“I was trying to help,” he snapped, his voice rising. “You were drowning, Lou. I could see it. I thought if people knew what was happening—if they understood—maybe things would be different. Maybe they could help.”

I shook my head, my chest tightening with the weight of his words. “Help? You think putting Will’s life on display for the world to judge would help? How could you think that was okay?”

Patrick’s face flushed, his eyes narrowing. “You think I don’t care about you? About what you’ve been going through? I was trying to get you out of this mess, Lou. Trying to make you see that there’s more to life than Will Traynor.”

His words hit me like a slap, and I felt the air leave my lungs. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re throwing your life away for him,” he said, his voice hard. “You’ve been so wrapped up in Will’s problems that you’ve forgotten you have a life of your own. You’re going down with him, Lou, and I couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen.”

I stood there, my hands shaking at my sides. I wanted to yell, to scream at him for not understanding, for thinking that I needed saving. But more than that, I wanted him to leave. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t keep explaining myself and justifying my choices to someone who would never understand.

“This isn’t about you,” I said, trembling. “It’s never been about you.”

Patrick’s eyes softened for a moment, but it was fleeting. “Lou, please. You know I’m right. You can’t keep doing this. Will—he’s not getting better. You’re holding onto something that isn’t real.”

I stepped back, the distance between us feeling like a chasm. “You don’t know anything about him.”

“I know enough,” Patrick shot back, his voice sharper now. “I know that he’s broken, Lou. And you—you can’t fix him.”

The words hit me harder than I expected, and I felt the tears sting my eyes. I knew Patrick was wrong. I had to believe he was wrong. Will wasn’t beyond saving. He wasn’t broken, not the way Patrick thought he was. But standing here, in this room, with the man I’d once thought I could love—it all felt too heavy, too much.

“I don’t need to fix him,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I just need to be with him.”

Patrick’s face fell, and for the first time, I saw the defeat in his eyes. He looked at me like he didn’t know who I was anymore like the Lou he’d fallen in love with had disappeared somewhere along the way, replaced by someone he couldn’t reach.

“I love him,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. “And I’m staying with him.”

Patrick let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Lou, I...”

But I couldn’t do this anymore. I shook my head, cutting him off. “I think you should go.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine for something—some sign that I wasn’t serious. But I was. I had never been more serious in my life.

Finally, he nodded, his shoulders sagging as he stepped past me, his footsteps heavy as he made his way to the door. He paused, his hand resting on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn back.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Lou,” he said softly, his voice heavy with resignation.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me standing in the empty room, the silence pressing down on me. I wiped at the tears that had spilled over, taking a deep breath. I had made my choice.

For the first time in weeks, I didn’t regret it.

---

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the photographs of my favorite shoes hanging on the wall. My mind raced, the echo of our argument still swirling around in my head. I knew I’d made the right choice, but its weight still sat heavy in my chest. It wasn’t just about Patrick—it was about everything. I still hadn’t discussed the fallout of Patrick’s actions with the Traynors—a prospect I was not looking forward to. 

A soft knock on my door broke through my thoughts, and I looked up to see Treena peeking her head in.

“Can I come in?” she asked quietly.

I nodded, offering her a small smile. “Yeah.”

She slipped inside, closing the door softly behind her. She didn’t say anything at first; she just sat beside me on the bed, her presence comforting in its familiarity. For a long moment, we just sat there in silence.

“I saw Patrick leave,” she said finally, her voice gentle. “That sounded...tense.”

I let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Treena turned to face me, her eyes filled with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I hesitated, unsure of where to start. There was so much to say, so much that I hadn’t even figured out myself. But Treena had always been there for me, always knew when I needed to talk—even when I didn’t want to.

“He’s just... he doesn’t get it,” I said, my voice quiet. “He thinks I’m throwing my life away for Will.”

Treena tilted her head, studying me for a moment. “And are you?”

I looked up at her, my chest tightening. “No. At least... I don’t think I am.”

Treena nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I think Patrick was never going to get it. Not really. But, Lou, are you sure? About Will, I mean.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. The question hung between us, heavy with everything I hadn’t yet put into words. Was I sure? Could I ever really be sure?

“I love him,” I said softly, the words feeling both terrifying and freeing at the same time. “I know that. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Treena smiled slightly, her eyes softening. “I could tell. You’ve been different since you met him. Not in a bad way, just... different.”

I blinked, taken aback by her words. “Different, how?”

She shrugged, leaning back against the bedpost. “I don’t know. More... yourself. More like the girl you were before…” 

I looked down. Before the maze. Before I stopped being fearless. 

“It’s like you’ve found something you were looking for, even if you didn’t know you were looking for it.”

Her words sank in, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest. I hadn’t thought about it that way before, but maybe she was right. Maybe Will had given me something I hadn’t even known I needed.

“I just don’t know what to do,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if he’ll ever really want to live again.”

Treena reached over and squeezed my hand gently. “Maybe that’s not something you can decide for him. But if you’re there with him, it’ll make it easier. For both of you, whatever his decision will be.” 

I nodded, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. She was right. I couldn’t decide for him, but I could be there with him, no matter what. And that had to be enough. It had to be.

We sat there for a few more minutes, the silence between us comfortable, before Treena sighed and pushed herself off the bed.

“Right, I’ll leave you to get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Treen. For everything.”

She waved it off with a small smile before heading for the door. Just as she reached it, she paused, turning to face me.

“Oh, almost forgot,” she said, reaching into her back pocket. “Mum found this earlier today. Said it was for you. Thought you might want it.”

I frowned, confused, as she pulled out a small envelope and handed it to me, and my heart skipped a beat.

CLARK

ONLY TO BE READ IN THE CAFE MARQUIS RUE DES FRANCE BOURGEOIS, ACCOMPANIED BY CROISSANTS AND A LARGE CAFE CREME

Will.

My fingers trembled slightly as I took the letter from her, my chest tightening at the sight of the typewritten envelope. Treena gave me a knowing look but didn’t say anything. She just smiled softly before closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with the letter in my hands.

I stared down at it, my mind racing. He’d written me a letter. It was dated for the same day as his Dignitas appointment. 

My fingers trembled as I held the envelope, the weight of it suddenly too heavy, like it was full of all the things I wasn’t ready to face. It was his goodbye, typed on paper, and I hadn’t been able to change his mind. The thought made my breath shallow. I wasn’t ready to open it—not yet. But soon, I knew I’d have to.

Carefully, I set it down on the bedside table, taking a deep breath as I lay back on the bed. I’m sure I’ll need to speak to Will before I open it anyway.  For now, all I could do was try to sleep.

 

Chapter 6: Will

Notes:

I decided to post two chapters today since they were both pretty short. I hope you enjoy! And don't forget to drop me a line. I'd love to hear from you.

The soft murmur of voices pulled me from sleep, the words barely reaching through the morning haze. I blinked, the familiar ceiling of the annex coming into focus above me. For a moment, everything was still, quiet—then I caught the sharp edge of Nathan’s voice, low and firm from the hallway.

“…I told you. The Traynors have no comment. And if you keep harassing me, I’ll have to pursue legal action.”

There was a pause, and I could hear Nathan’s steady breathing through the half-closed door, the quiet intensity of his words carrying into the room. I shifted slightly, feeling the familiar numbness from the chest down—a reminder of everything that had changed and everything that hadn’t.

The press. Of course. They never could let anything go. I’d been too sick at first to pay much attention to my parent’s hushed discussions about the steady stream of reporters wanting an exclusive story. Even though I didn’t go through with it, I suppose they still needed something to print. 

Nathan’s voice softened again, the edge gone as he finished the call. A moment later, the door swung open, and he stepped inside, his usual cheerful grin plastered on his face like nothing had happened.

“Morning, Mr. T,” he said, his tone easy as he walked over to my bedside. “How are we feeling today, mate? Ready to face the world?”

I gave him a look, my lips turning down. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He started the usual routine, adjusting the pillows behind me and checking the equipment with practiced ease. I watched him work, the familiarity of it all grounding me in the present. Nathan had been with me long enough to know what I needed before I asked, but today, something was different—something unspoken hanging between us. He placed the first dose of my medication on my lips, followed by the beaker of water with my straw. 

“So,” I said, my voice low, “I think we’ve put this off long enough.”

He raised a brow. 

“Obviously, things have changed, and I realize I’ve been monopolizing your time. Time that could be spent with your new clients,” I said, hinting at my meaning. 

Nathan hesitated for a moment, his hands stilling on the comforter before he shrugged again. “I haven’t got any new clients. Thought I’d take a bit of a break. You know, before taking on anyone new.” 

I nodded, knowing there was more to it than he let on. Nathan never took breaks. “A break, huh?”

He glanced up at me, his usual easygoing grin faltering for a second. “Yeah, well… thought it was time to, uh, slow down a bit.”

I didn’t say anything at first; I watched him as he finished adjusting the pillows. It wasn’t like Nathan to leave things unsaid, and I could tell this was about more than just needing time off. I closed my eyes, focusing my thoughts on Nathan. If I had been honest, I’d admit he was more than my nurse. He was my friend. Aside from Lou, he’d been my only friend for two years. I guess I hadn’t realized what my absence would mean to him. However, I had given Michael instructions to ensure that Nathan wouldn’t suffer from a loss of income. But I suppose there was more than one way to suffer. 

“You didn’t book anyone else because of me, did you?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

Nathan straightened up, his hands resting on his hips as he looked down at me. For a moment, he didn’t answer, but then he sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah. Two years is a long time, mate. I know I’m not supposed to get attached. But this was never a normal situation, was it? It’s not about the job, Mr. T. It hasn’t been for a long time. We’ve been through too much for me to just walk away now.”

He said it casually like it was no big deal, but I knew better. Nathan had been with me through the worst of it, and the fact that he hadn’t moved on to other clients spoke volumes.

“Yeah. Now, I suppose you’re stuck with me. I mean, if you decide to stay on.” 

Nathan grinned, the easygoing expression back in place. “Course. Besides, who else is gonna put up with your moody ass?”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me, the tension between us easing slightly. Nathan had been a constant presence in my life for years, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed him. More than I wanted to.

“Well then,” I said, my tone lightening just a little, “welcome back to the team. Officially. And don’t think I’ll go easy on you.”

Nathan gave me a mock salute before returning to his work, shifting and rotating me like he’d done a hundred times before. But there was a sense of permanency to it now, something unspoken but understood between us. 

After a few moments, Nathan glanced up at me, his expression softening. “Lou’s coming by later, right?”

I nodded, mentioning her name and sending a familiar warmth through me. “Yeah. She’ll be here.”

Nathan paused, his eyes studying me momentarily before he spoke again. “You’ve got a good one there, Mr. T. Don’t let her slip away.”

I didn’t respond right away, my thoughts drifting to Lou. The way she’d looked at me that last night in Mauritius, the way she hadn’t given up—despite everything I’d said, despite the way I’d pushed her away. She was still here. Still fighting for me, even when I wasn’t sure I was worth fighting for.

 That night on the beach, I desperately wanted to believe the vision of us she had painted. I can still see her face, the tears glittering in her eyes, and my complete inability to comfort her like I wanted to. She had no idea how much I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her that I believed in the life she wanted for us. But I couldn’t bring myself to say those words. I couldn’t allow myself to believe it. Believing in that future would mean I had to accept. I don’t know if I can ever accept this life. I meant what I said. I don’t want Lou to tie herself to me, to stifle the vibrant woman I had grown to care deeply for. Yet, selfishly, I’m finding it hard to let her go this time. 

“Nathan,” I said quietly, shifting the conversation away from Lou, “what’s the deal with the press? Why are they still so interested?” I need to get my mind off Lou. 

Nathan’s expression darkened just a little, the easy grin fading. “Same old story. They’re digging, trying to figure out what happened. Why you never made it to Switzerland. Whether Lou’s involved.”

The thought of Lou being hounded by the press because of me made my chest knot. This was exactly what I wanted to protect her from—a life of scrutiny and second-hand judgment, all because of a choice I couldn’t even make anymore. And now, she was stuck in this mess with me

“We’ll handle it,” Nathan said firmly, his voice cutting through my thoughts. “You just focus on getting better. Leave the rest to me.”

“I don’t think it’ll get any better than this.” There wasn’t an edge to my voice. 

“You know what I mean.” 

I smiled, and this time, it felt a bit easier. “Told you I wasn’t going to go easy.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Mr. T.” 

Chapter 7: Lou

The letter felt heavier in my bag than it had any right to. Every step I took toward the annex made it seem like the weight of it was pressing down harder, reminding me of all the words inside that I wasn’t ready to read yet.

The driveway stretched out before me, familiar and imposing as ever. The large stone facade of Granta House loomed ahead, surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns that looked almost too neat, too still. The kind of quiet that made you feel like you didn’t belong.

The door to the annex swung open just as I reached it, and Nathan’s face appeared, his usual easy smile already in place.

“Lou,” he said, stepping aside to let me in, “right on time.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Punctual as ever.” I replied, trying to force a smile though my heart was racing.

He glanced at my face, and I could tell he wasn’t buying my feeble attempt at pretending everything was fine. But to his credit, Nathan didn’t say anything. He just nodded toward the hallway.

“He’s in the entertainment room, waiting for you. Looks like a good day to take him outside if you’re up for it.”

I nodded, my throat tightening. Outside. That was a good idea. Fresh air--something to keep my mind from spinning out of control.

Nathan’s eyes softened just a little as he stood back. “Take it easy on him, yeah? He’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, clutching the strap of my bag even tighter. “Of course.”

I walked down the hall, the familiar creak of the floorboards under my feet reminding me of all the times I’d walked this path before. So much had changed since then, yet… it all felt the same.

I reached for the door and took a deep breath before sliding it open.

Will was there, sitting by the window, his eyes distant as he stared at the garden. The soft light filtered through the glass, casting long shadows across the room, and for a moment, he didn’t seem to notice I was there.

“Hey,” I said quietly, my voice breaking the silence.

Will turned his head slowly, his expression neutral, but I could see the flicker of something in his eyes—something he was trying to keep hidden.

“Clark,” he said, his voice as steady as ever, though there was an edge of weariness in it. He turned around, the motorized sound of the chair filling the room.

“You look better today,” I said, stepping further into the room, trying to sound casual. I wasn’t sure if I was fooling him or myself.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond right away. “As opposed to feeble and bedridden?” 

I slapped his shoulder lightly. “Hush. You always look good to me.” The words came out in a rush. My cheeks warmed, and I busied myself with my bag, putting it aside. “Is there anything I can get you? Tea? Water?” 

He laughed, and the sound made my heart constrict. Oh, how I missed the sound of his laughter and, god, that smile. How did he ever think I could live the rest of my life without it? 

“Right, Clark’s famous tea. Maybe I shouldn’t have given up on Switzerland so quickly.” 

I laughed a little too loudly. Of course, Will would make light of Switzerland. I’m not sure I’m there yet. “Ha. Ha. Funny guy. I’ll get you that tea.” 

The days that followed weren’t easy. I’d known they wouldn’t be, but still, nothing really prepares you for the weight of it. Will wasn’t getting any better—not in the way I hoped. He still carried that heavy silence around like a cloak, and there were moments when I wondered if I was making things worse by staying. But I wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet.

Every day I came over, I brought the letter, but I never quite summed up the courage to read it or ask him about it.  It was like a ticking time bomb, waiting for the right moment to go off. Somehow, I knew heartbreak awaited me inside. Every time I looked at Will, I wanted to mention it, but the words would die on my lips. Not yet, I told myself. Not yet

We fell into a strange kind of routine. I’d come over in the mornings, help Nathan where I could before he left for his next client, and spend the day together. Sometimes we’d talk, other times we’d just sit in silence. I’d cook, bring him tea he rarely drank, and try to find small ways to remind him that life was still happening around him, even if it didn’t feel like it.

Laughter and smiles didn’t come easy. On rare occasions, he allowed himself to relax, and I savored those moments. I know he still resented his current situation. I know how important having a choice meant to him. But I wanted him to see that there were other choices available. More than once I had to remind myself to take it slow. 

It was a small victory the day he finally agreed to let me open the windows. The fresh air felt like a gift, and for a moment, it seemed like something had shifted. But then, just as quickly, the tension returned, and the quiet closed in again.

I needed to do something—something more than just sitting around waiting for Will to change. Because waiting wasn’t enough. He needed something to pull him out of this, and I couldn’t do it alone.

That’s when I got the idea.

---

The next day, I found myself back at Will’s house, a little out of breath from lugging the bags from the bus stop to his house. The sun was out for once, a rare break in the constant drizzle, and I felt like today would be different.

I’d gone to the garden center after leaving the annex the previous day, buying everything I could fit in my dad’s truck. Seeds, tools, gloves—all the things we’d need to plant our very own garden. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was something. And something was better than nothing.

Will was in the sitting room when I came in, the windows were already open, and the breeze gently lifted the curtains. He glanced up when he saw me, his expression as unreadable as always.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his voice flat.

I set the bags down by the door and wiped my hands on my jeans. “We’re planting a garden,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt.

Will raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We?”

“Yes, we.” I crossed my arms, giving him my best no-nonsense look. “I thought it would be nice to have fresh veggies and herbs.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze shifting from me to the bags by the door and back again. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the resistance building. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed.

“I’m not planting vegetables, Clark. Not unless you’ve got something in those bags that can plant themselves.”

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t expect you to.” A smile tugged at my lips. “But you can help me. I’ll do the hard stuff. You can just... supervise.”

He didn’t argue, but I could see the skepticism in his eyes. It was a small step, a tiny concession, but I’d take it. Anything to get him out of the annex and out of his head for a while.

By the time we got outside, the sun was already high. 

Will navigated himself to the edge of the garden path, his expression unreadable as he looked at the spot I’d chosen for our little garden. I knelt down beside one of the flower beds, pulled on my gloves, and grabbed a spade from the bag.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

I looked up at him, smiling. “Yeah, I am.”

I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something lighter, something almost like curiosity. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t turn away either. He just sat there, watching as I dug into the earth, the sound of the spade cutting through the soil somehow soothing in the quiet of the evening.

We didn’t talk much after that. We didn’t need to. The garden was enough for now.

Chapter 8: Will

She was really doing it.

I sat there, watching Lou plunge the spade into the dirt with a determination I hadn’t seen in a long time. I could tell she didn’t know a thing about gardening, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She just kept digging, pulling out clumps of weeds like they were some personal challenge she had to conquer. I imagined Mum’s reaction to Lou digging up her immaculately manicured lawn and shook my head. 

I should’ve told her to stop. That it was pointless. But something about how she moved—focused, determined—kept me from saying anything. She wanted me to help. To contribute. As if planting a few seeds would make me forget that everything I used to be was gone. That I would never get out of this chair. She was asking me to care about something again, and it made my chest tighten. Caring meant opening myself up to disappointment and failure. And I wasn’t sure I could handle that anymore.

But I watched her anyway. 

The breeze had picked up a little, stirring the leaves around us, and I could feel the cool air on my face. It wasn’t much, but it was a change from the stuffiness of the house. I hadn’t realized how heavy it had been until now, sitting outside for the first time in what felt like forever.

Lou hummed to herself as she worked, some song I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t help but smile. Only she would think there was something to hum about while knee-deep in dirt.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said after a while, her voice breaking through the steady rhythm of the spade. She didn’t look up; she just kept working, her hands covered in dirt.

“Oh yeah?” I muttered. “And what’s that?”

“That this is pointless.” She glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes glinting with that familiar mischief. “That I’m wasting my time.”

I didn’t respond right away. She wasn’t wrong. It did seem pointless. If I wanted fresh vegetables—which I never cared for—I could let my parents know, and they’d have someone restock for me. But there was something in her expression, something in the way she just kept going, that made it hard to say the words out loud.

“I’m just waiting for you to realize it,” I said finally.

Lou laughed, and the sound was light and easy. “Well, you might be waiting a while, then.”

I watched as she pulled another clump of soil, her movements quick and efficient. She worked like this was the most important thing in the world, like planting a garden was somehow going to turn everything else around, too.

And maybe that’s what she thought. Maybe that’s why she was doing this. I didn’t know. But I realized I didn’t mind watching.

The quiet stretched out between us again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The sound of her spade hitting the ground, the rustle of the leaves, the distant hum of life was all... bearable. More than bearable, actually.

“I used to hate this garden,” I said after a while, my voice softer than I intended.

Lou paused, glancing up at me, but she said nothing. She just waited, letting me find the words.

“My mother was obsessed with it,” I continued. “Always hiring the best gardeners, making sure every hedge was trimmed, every flower perfectly placed. It was a bloody nightmare.”

Lou smiled, brushing a stray hair out of her face. “Well, I’m sure she will love this addition.”

“Oh, she’ll be thrilled.”

She laughed but kept digging. 

I didn’t know why I was telling her this. I hadn’t thought about the garden in years, hadn’t thought about anything beyond the four walls of the annex. But being out here, seeing Lou throw herself into it, made it hard not to remember.

“I used to think that she believed as long as the garden looked perfect, everything was fine,” I said, staring out at the tangled mess of vines and weeds. “Like it reflected the image she and my father created.”

Lou didn’t say anything; she just listened, her hands resting in her lap now, dirt smeared across her jeans. She didn’t push, didn’t try to fill the silence. She just let me talk, and for some reason, that made it easier.

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it?” I muttered, more to myself than to her. “It was all a lie.”

Lou stood up then, brushing the dirt from her knees. She walked over to where I was sitting, wiping her hands on her jeans before sitting on the edge of the chair beside me. Her presence was steady, constant, like always.

“It’s not a lie anymore,” she said softly. “It’s just life. Messy, imperfect, and real.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. I just sat there, letting her words sink in.

We took a break for lunch—chicken salad sandwiches and juice. We ate inside, Lou feeding me bites of my sandwich with practiced ease. “Juice, please,” I said after swallowing a bite of chicken salad. She positioned my glass in front of me, and I took a sip from my straw. It was like nothing had changed—even the quiet resentment of needing someone else to get a damned drink of juice remained the same. Still, I missed the feel of her skin against mine as she used her thumb to wipe my cheek. The warmth of her body pulled me into her orbit. The smell of her perfume wrapped around me.  

I wonder if she’s read my letter yet. She hadn’t mentioned it, and I was unsure how to address it. The message was meant to be my farewell. That was moot now. Still, I can’t help but think that she should be in Paris, trying Papillons Extreme, not digging up my mother’s garden. I opened my mouth to say something again but asked for another bite of my sandwich instead. I would let her play in the dirt a little longer before we have a serious discussion about her place here. I’m sure my parents are curious, as she hasn’t been my carer in any official capacity since our return from Mauritius.

The day began to settle in slowly, the sky turning soft shades of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be outside during the sunset, to feel the world changing around me without being stuck behind glass. It was... nice. I wouldn’t admit that to Lou, of course. But I think she knew.

She always seemed to know what I wouldn’t say.

Lou stopped digging a while ago, settling beside me instead, her eyes drifting to the garden in front of us. It was a mess. But strangely, it felt more alive like this—wild and untamed, just like her.

She let out a deep breath, leaning back on her knees. “I’m going to need your help, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow, turning my head slightly to look at her. “I thought you said I was just here to supervise.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve changed my mind,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “This garden will take more than one person to plant it.”

I stared at her for a moment, watching how the light from the setting sun caught in her hair, turning it into shades of gold and red. She was ridiculous, really. Absolutely ridiculous. But she was also right.

“I can’t exactly dig with a spade, Lou,” I pointed out, my tone flat.

“I know,” she said simply. “But there are other ways to help.”

I didn’t ask what she meant by that. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But the fact that she even believed I could help—believed that there was something left for me to do—was... strange. And strangely comforting.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” I muttered.

Lou laughed, the sound light and free. “I’ve been called worse.”

She turned to look at me then, her smile fading slightly, replaced by something softer, something more serious. “But you’re here, Will. That’s what matters.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Part of me wanted to argue, to tell her that being here didn’t mean anything. But another part of me—the part that was tired of fighting—just let it be.

The sun had nearly disappeared now, casting long shadows across the garden. The air had grown cooler, but I didn’t feel like going inside just yet. There was something peaceful about the evening, something that made me feel... not okay, exactly, but less suffocated.

“I think you might actually pull this off,” I said after a while, my voice quieter now.

Lou glanced at me, her eyebrow raised. “What, the garden?”

“No. Everything.”

She didn’t say anything at first; she just looked at me with that same quiet determination she always had. And for a moment, I almost believed her—believed that she could somehow fix all the things that were broken, not just in the garden, but in me too.

“I can’t do it without you,” she said softly.

Her words hung between us, heavy and fragile all at once. I wasn’t sure if she meant it literally or if she was talking about something bigger—about life, about the future. But either way, it felt like a challenge. Like she was daring me to try.

I turned my gaze back to the garden. Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t about fixing everything. Maybe it was just about showing up.

“I’ll think about it,” I muttered, knowing it was the best I could offer.

Lou smiled then, a real, genuine smile, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something shift inside me. Something small but real.

This wasn’t the life I wanted. It never would be. But for now, it was the life I had.

And maybe that could be enough.

Notes:

I just want to take a moment to thank those of you who took the time to leave a kudos! It's appreciated. We're still slow rolling, but I promise I have some true romance in store for these two.

Chapter 9: Lou

Dinner was the usual chaos. Treena was trying to keep Thomas from launching peas across the table with his spoon, Dad was focused on the telly, and Mum was fussing over everyone’s plates like we were all going to waste away if she didn’t pile on an extra serving of mashed potatoes.

“Honestly, Thomas,” Treena muttered, grabbing the spoon out of his hand before he could send another green missile flying. “Can’t you just eat like a normal human being?”

Thomas grinned, his mischievous brown eyes sparkling. “But it’s fun, Mum!”

I bit back a laugh, watching the two of them from my spot at the end of the table. It was strange, really, how normal everything seemed here--like the last few weeks hadn’t turned my entire life upside down. But the illusion of normality didn’t last long.

“Right, so,” Treena began, cutting into the quiet as she wiped down Thomas’s face with a napkin, “Lou, have you decided what you’ll do about the Traynors yet?”

My fork froze halfway to my mouth. I should’ve known this was coming. Treena had been dropping hints for days, but until now, she hadn’t pressed the issue. I put down my fork, feeling the weight of everyone’s attention shift toward me. Of course, they wanted to know what was happening between Will and me. Treena was still in uni, and of course, things fell on me to help Dad with our expenses. 

“I don’t know, Treen,” I muttered, my appetite suddenly gone. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

Mum hovered over Grandad’s plate and finally turned around, her expression unreadable. But I could see the tension in her jaw, the way her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at me.

“Well, you can’t avoid it forever,” Treena said, her tone light, though I could hear the seriousness behind it. “I mean, you’re not exactly employed anymore, right? If you’re spending all this time with Will...”

“Will,” Mum interrupted, her voice sharp. “Of course, it’s about Will Traynor.”

The air in the room shifted, and the comfortable chaos of dinner was suddenly replaced by something heavier and tense. I could feel the weight of her disapproval settling over me like a blanket.

“Mum,” I started, trying to keep my tone calm, “it’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” Mum shot back, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re running yourself ragged over that man, and for what? He’s already caused enough trouble in this family.”

I clenched my jaw, my hands balling into fists under the table. “He’s not trying to cause trouble.”

“Oh, really?” Mum’s voice was rising now, her eyes flashing with anger and concern. “What about the press? Hounding us day and night because of him? What about the gossip down at the shops? I can’t go anywhere without someone asking about my daughter and Will Traynor. People are still talking about what he was going to do to himself.”

“It’s none of their business,” I snapped, my voice trembling with the effort to stay calm. “It’s not their life. It’s mine and Will’s.”

Mum shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve thrown your life away for him, Lou. I don’t know what else to call it.”

“It’s not like that,” I said again, but the words felt hollow, even to me.

“Isn’t it?” Mum pressed, stepping closer. “You’ve been wrapped up in his world for months now. What happens next, Lou? What happens when he... when he makes his decision again?”

“Mum,” Treena cut in, her voice quieter but firm. “Let’s not do this right now. Especially in front of Tom.”

“What’s going on?” Tom’s small voice drifted between us. 

But Mum wasn’t listening. Her eyes were locked on me, the tension between us thick enough to cut.

“I want to know, Louisa. I want to know where you stand.” She took a deep breath, her expression softening just a little. “I don’t want to lose you to this. You need to make a choice. Either you move on from all this, or you stay in that mess. But you can’t have both.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The room seemed too small, too quiet, and all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat thudding in my ears. Every word Mum said felt like a stone being placed on my chest, heavier and heavier until I wasn’t sure if I could breathe. She didn’t understand—how could she? Will wasn’t just a burden or a choice I had to make. He was... everything. And I wasn’t ready to lose him. Not again.

“I can’t believe you’re making me choose,” I whispered, barely audible.

“I’m not making you do anything, love,” Mum said softly, but there was an edge to her words. “I’m asking you to think about your future. To think about what you really want.”

“I know what I want. I want Will in my life, and I want to be in his.” I looked at my dad, pleading silently for him to help me, but he remained silent for once. “What about Dad? He still works at the castle. Are you making him choose?” 

“That’s different.” She sniffed indignantly. 

“How? He’s still working for the Traynors. They’re the reason why our lights are on, right?” 

“Louisa!” Dad raised his voice. “I think that’s enough for now.” 

Silence settled over the room like a heavy fog. Treena looked between us, her expression torn, but she said nothing. Even Thomas had gone quiet, sensing the shift in the air.

I pushed back from the table, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. I couldn’t do this—not here, not now. Without a word, I stood up and walked out of the kitchen, the sound of Mum calling after me fading into the background as I headed for the stairs.

I needed space. I needed to think. But more than that, I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.

---

“Lou?” Nathan’s voice filled my ear. 

“Hey, Nathan...” I chewed on my bottom lip before drawing in an unsteady breath. “Is Will still awake?” 

I heard a shuffling sound on the other side of the phone before he spoke again. “Yeah, I just got him settled for the night. Do you want to speak to him?” 

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes.” 

“It’s Lou,” he said to Will. 

“Clark?” My shoulders sagged at his voice even as my pulse sped up. 

I almost hung up, second-guessing my decision to call him. He’d opened his door to me once before, but I wasn’t sure if now was the right time to ask for his help. My mother had made it clear that I had to choose between them and Will. It wasn’t fair. Will hadn’t gone through with Switzerland, but somehow she couldn’t get past it. Treen thinks she’ll come around, but I’m not so sure. I know she isn’t upset with Will—not really. She’s upset about the way everything was handled, and she doesn’t want me involved. But it’s not as simple as walking away. 

“Hi, Will.” I paused, my tongue thick and heavy, unable to form the words. 

“Is everything okay? Are you alright?” 

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, things are getting complicated here, and I was wondering if I could—if you’d be okay with me staying a few days at your place until I figure something out. I promise I won’t be there long. It’s just that—” 

“Clark, slow down.” Will’s voice was calm, his words like a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to ramble.” I paused, trying to gather my thoughts, but they felt scattered, like leaves in the wind. “It’s just... things with my mum have gotten worse. She’s not handling the situation well, and she’s... she’s forcing me to make a choice.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I could picture Will, his brow furrowed, processing what I was saying. I could hear the faint sound of the machines in the background, their steady rhythm a reminder of everything he’d been through, everything he was still going through.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “If you need a place to stay, Clark, my door is always open. You know that.”

Relief flooded through me, but it was tinged with guilt. I didn’t want to impose on him, not now when he was dealing with so much. “I don’t want to be a burden,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not a burden,” Will said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Come here. Stay as long as you need.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. It wasn’t just about having a place to stay. It was about the fact that he was still here, still someone I can lean on. Oh, Will, what would I do without you? 

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ll pack a few things and be there soon.”

“Take your time,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

As I hung up the phone, my heart felt a little lighter, knowing that I wasn’t completely alone. 

I yanked my oversized luggage from under the bed and flipped it open. There were a few pieces of my clothing left inside from the last time I had taken refuge at the annex. After that horrible day at the airport, I sent Treena and my dad to pack my things. I never expected that I’d ever be moving back there again. Something bubbled up inside me as I tossed in a few skirts and jumpers. I was moving back in with Will Traynor. We were going to be living together again. 

I moved from the closet to the dresser, selecting some of my brightest and most unique outfits—clothes I knew would intrigue Will and hopefully make him smile. 

“Knock, knock,” Treena said before entering the room. 

I looked up, an armful of underwear clutched to my chest. “Hey.” 

She moved a pile of blouses out of the way and sat on my bed. “So, you’re really doing it?” 

I stuffed the underwear in my suitcase. “Doing what?” 

“Oh, don’t be daft, Lou. You’re choosing Will over us.” 

I paused my movements. “No, I’m not choosing Will over—Mum doesn’t understand.” 

I don’t think any of them really understood. Sometimes I don’t even understand this connection I have with Will. Six months wasn’t very long, but to me, it felt like a lifetime. In the entire seven years I dated Patrick, I didn’t feel a fraction for him what I feel for Will. When I wasn’t with him, it was like I was missing a piece of myself. Maybe I could have smoothed things over with Mum, but part of me didn’t want to—especially if it meant I could be closer to Will. 

“Look, Lou, I know we haven’t always gotten along. But believe it or not, we care about you. I know you love Will, and right now, you’re caught up in the moment. Just don’t… don’t lose yourself in him. I don’t know if you’ll be able to survive if he decides he would rather, ya know.” 

“Thanks a lot, Treen.” I pulled a look. 

Treena rolled her eyes. “Come on, you know what I mean, Lou. You were a wreck for days after you got back from that trip. Don’t get me wrong, I hope it works out for you two. I just don’t want to see you like that again.” 

I sat beside her on the bed, hesitating before resting my head on her shoulders. “Thanks, Treen. Really. I have to believe that things are going to work out. A few weeks ago, I thought I would be at Will’s memorial.” 

Treena wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “I know. Funny how things change.” 

I nodded. “Funny that.” 

Treena sighed and picked at the pile of clothing on my bed. “Are you bringing those bumblebee tights?” 

 

Chapter 10: Will

Lou was moving back in.

The thought sat with me since the moment Nathan disconnected our call quietly gnawing at the edges of my mind. Even though I’d agreed to have her back at the annex, there was still a part of me that wasn’t sure if this was the right thing for either of us. Yet, despite everything, I couldn’t deny that the idea of her being here—sharing this space with me again—felt like a reprieve from the suffocating solitude. 

Lou was a constant in my life. The person I’d come to depend on in more ways than one. She was still pretty much the only thing that made me look forward to waking up in the morning, and I suspect that would never change. She brought beauty into my life. She gave me hope. But that hope was dangerous. Hope reminded me of the things I had and would never have again. Her presence was both life-giving and the source of my sadness because I couldn’t be what I wanted to be for her. 

I watched the darkening sky from my bedroom window. My thoughts circled back to the one thing I hadn’t quite been able to shake: Was I making a mistake by letting her back into my life like this?  I couldn’t help but think of the last time I let her in—how it nearly broke both of us. Could I handle that again? Could she? The idea of hurting Lou ate at me, but the thought of being without her felt like a different kind of pain. 

Any time I struggled with my feelings about Lou, my mind went back to the night on that beach, to the impossible future she had laid out for us—one filled with adventures, moments of laughter, and a kind of life I couldn’t imagine for myself anymore. My reality was too complicated for fantasies that might never come to fruition. I still didn't think I can offer her that life, no matter how much she wanted it.

And yet… here she was, choosing to come back.

The door creaked open, pulling me from my thoughts. Nathan stepped in, his usual grin in place, though it faltered slightly as his eyes met mine.

“Hey, Mr. T. Need anything?” His tone was casual, but I could hear the edge of concern in it.

“I’m fine. Nothing new.”

Nathan nodded, going through his usual motions as he adjusted the pillows and positioned me on my bed with practiced efficiency. There was a moment of silence before he glanced at me, his brow furrowing slightly.

“So... Lou’s moving back in?” he asked, his tone light but probing.

I didn’t respond right away, turning my gaze back to the window. “Yeah. She is.”

Nathan sighed, a sound that was more thoughtful than exasperated. He leaned against the bed, crossing his arms as he looked down at me. “You sure about that? I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’m glad Lou's here. I know how much she means to you. But... are you ready for it?”

I clenched my jaw, my hands resting uselessly at my sides. “What do you mean, ‘ready for it?’ Clark’s coming back because she needs a place to stay.”

Nathan’s expression softened, but he didn’t back down. “I know that. I just want to make sure it’s not too much for either of you. Lou... she’s all in, you can see that. But you’ve got to be honest with her, mate. This isn’t easy—for you or her.”

I knew he was right, of course. Nathan always had a way of cutting through the bullshit and getting to the heart of things. I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t ignore it either.

“I don’t want her to lose herself in this again,” I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve seen what happens when people tie themselves to someone like me. It’s not fair. If I had known about her plan…” What would I have done? Would I have ended it before things went too far? I wanted to think I would have been noble enough to do that. 

Nathan uncrossed his arms, his gaze steady. “Will, I know this is Lou’s decision, but I’m not sure she knows what she’s getting into. She’s stronger than we give her credit for, but I saw her after Mauritius. You broke her heart, mate.”  

I let out a slow breath, my chest tight. “I know…” And I hated myself for it. “Last time, I stayed alive because I made a  promise to my mother.” 

“And this time?” 

“This time, I told Clark I’d give this life a try. But I don’t know if I’m up to it. I don’t think she understands who I used to be.” 

Nathan was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was softer. “I’ve gotten to know Lou these past months. I don’t think she cares about that. But I get that you do. You’ve been through hell and back. But the fact that you’re still here, still pushing through, that says a lot about the man you are now. Don’t sell yourself short, mate.”

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “And what if this doesn’t work? What if… I let her down?”

Nathan gave me a small, reassuring smile. “You won’t let her down. Not if you’re honest with her. That’s all she wants—honesty. Maybe this time around, things can be different if you’re both upfront with each other.” 

I nodded slightly, though I wasn’t sure if I believed him. I didn’t know if I could be what Lou needed or if I was holding onto her out of selfishness. But Nathan was right about one thing—I had to be honest with her. About everything.

Before Nathan could leave, I cleared my throat. “There’s something else. About Lou... and her job.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“She’s not working for the Traynors anymore. Not officially, at least.” I paused, the words feeling heavy in my mouth. “But she’s been here almost every day. I don’t know how long that can last.”

Nathan nodded, understanding flashing in his eyes. “You thinking of talking to her about it? Maybe make it official again?”

I lifted my brows like a shrug, unsure. “I don’t know. It feels... complicated. I don’t want her to feel stuck here because of me. I had this plan for her…” my lips quirked into an involuntary smile. “I thought after I… after Switzerland, she’d go off and see the world starting with Paris. I still want her to experience those things.” 

Nathan tilted his head, considering my words. “Maybe it’s time you asked her what she wants instead of assuming.”

I didn’t respond, but his words stayed with me long after he left the room.

---

The room grew darker as the evening stretched on, the faint hum of the night seeping in through the window. I’d been listening to the distant rustle of leaves outside and the occasional car rolling by, but mostly, I was waiting. Waiting for her.

The door creaked open, breaking through the silence, and there she was.

“Will.” Her voice was soft and tentative, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. She stood there in the doorway, her bag hanging off her shoulder, the dim light from the hallway casting long shadows across her face. She looked tired and worn down in a way that made my skin prickle.

“Hey,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible.

Lou hesitated for a second before stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind her. She set her bag down by the wall, her movements careful, almost hesitant, like she wasn’t sure what to expect. Maybe she was just as unsure about this as I was.

“I really hope it’s okay that I came tonight.” She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, eyes scanning the room as if searching for something to say. “I, uh, didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

“It’s fine,” I replied, though my mind was anything but settled. I watched her as she moved toward me, her presence filling the room in that way only Lou could. She was so full of life, so determined to fight for this—for us. And yet, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she’d end up hurt again. 

She stopped beside my bed, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her jumper. There was a tension between us, one that had never really left since that day at the airport, and I could feel it tightening now like a thread pulled too taut.

“I know you said I can stay for as long as I want, but I know things have been…” Her voice sounded quieter, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t heard in a long time. “different.”

I clenched my jaw, my hands resting uselessly on the blanket. “I want you here, Clark.” I let out a slow breath. “But I need to be honest with you. About… all of this.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t say anything; she just waited, letting me find the words.

“I don’t want you to lose yourself in this,” I continued my voice steady but laced with the weight of everything I’d been holding back. “I’ve seen it happen before, and I—” I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it without pushing her away completely. “I don’t want you to feel stuck with me. Or that I need you to save me.”

Louisa shook her head almost immediately, her eyes wide and determined as she reached for me. I sensed the faint pressure of her hand and wished with every cell in my body that I could feel her skin against mine. I closed my eyes briefly, imagining the softness of her fingers around mine. 

“I’m not stuck, Will. I’m choosing to be here. You know that. As for saving you… I tried that before.” She rolled her eyes. “Big fat lot of good that did.” She shook her head. “I’m not here because I want to save you. I’m here because I can’t picture my life without you in it.” 

“I know,” I said quietly. “But I don’t want you to choose me out of some sense of responsibility. You have your own life, Clark. You have things you should be doing and places you should be going. That’s what I wanted from you from the moment you blew in here with your strange taste in footwear and crazy dresses. You should be out in the world. Not stuck in a remodeled horse shed with me.”  

Lou bit her lip. She plucked at my comforter with her free hand, and for a moment, the silence between us grew heavier. Then, she stepped closer, her eyes searching mine. “Will, I know what I’m choosing. And it’s not out of some sense of obligation. It’s because I—” She stopped herself, her breath catching, but then she pressed on, her voice stronger. “I want to be here. With you.” She let go of my hand and touched my face. 

I nuzzled my cheek into her palm. I could feel the warmth of her skin, the gentle pressure of her fingers grounding me in the present. For a moment, I closed my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me, wishing I could hold onto this feeling forever. She always had this way of looking at me—like she could see past everything, straight to the heart of who I was, even the parts I didn’t want her to see. 

“I don’t want to be the thing that holds you back,” I said, my voice low. “You deserve more than this.”

She smiled softly, shaking her head. “You’re not holding me back, Will Traynor. And you don’t get to decide what I deserve. If anything, you’re the reason I’ve come this far. I’m not letting go of that now.”

I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that she could still see something worth staying for. But a part of me still couldn’t shake the doubt.

I cleared my throat, my hands curling into fists on my lap. “There’s something else,” I said, the words heavy in my mouth. “I wrote you a letter. I suspect you’ve gotten it by now.”

Lou’s eyes flickered with surprise, and she glanced at her bag. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

“I wasn’t going to ask you about it,” she said softly, her voice cautious. “I haven’t read it yet. I figured... well, I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would.”

I nodded slowly, my gaze dropping. “I wrote it before... before everything. It was supposed to be my goodbye. I never imagined that you and I would be talking about it.”

Lou’s breath hitched, and I could see the emotion flickering in her eyes, but she didn’t interrupt. She just waited.

“I don’t know if it means anything now,” I continued, my voice quieter. “But I want you to know... I meant everything I said. Even if things didn’t turn out the way I planned.”

Her hand reached for mine, her fingers gently wrapping around my wrist. I couldn't feel it, but it grounded me in the moment. “You don’t have to explain, Will. I know what that letter was supposed to be. But we’re here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. And that’s what I don’t want. I want you to read that letter, Clark. I want you to experience everything. I want you to live boldly. You’re so much bigger than this place. But like you said, I have a choice; You have one, too.” 

“I’ll read the letter, Will. And I’ll make you a promise. No matter what, I’ll live that life you want for me. Because I want that, too. You don’t know how much it means to me that you’re still here. I don’t want to leave your side. But when the time comes, I’ll do the things we talked about.” 

The weight of her words settled over me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something shift inside me—something that wasn’t guilt or fear or doubt. It was something softer, something like hope.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

Lou squeezed my hand, her smile soft but unwavering.

Chapter 11: Lou

 

I kissed Will on his cheek before saying good night. I wished he would have invited me to lay beside him, but I know he thinks it’s better this way. Maybe in the end, it will be, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t hope for more. 

After leaving Will alone in his room, I said goodbye to Nathan, grabbed my duffle and roller suitcase, and wheeled it to the spare bedroom I had once occupied. I sat on the edge of the bed. It was as quiet as ever, save for the soft hum of the wind outside and the faint rustle of the trees through the window. After a while, I made myself at home again, unpacking the clothes and knickknacks I had thrown into my bags in my haste to leave my parents house.

My mind drifted back to the conversation I had with Will. Lately, we were dancing around what we wanted to say to each other, but tonight was different. I had opened myself back up to him, but I was still afraid. I was afraid that even after everything, my love wouldn’t be enough. That’s why I haven’t said it to him again, no matter how much I want to.  I know Will cares for me, but he still hasn’t allowed himself to see the possibilities of what our love could be.

I reached for his letter. The bold type print stared up at me, daring me to open it. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding onto that letter. Not just physically but emotionally. I carried it with me, tucked away in my bag like a weight I didn’t want to deal with, a reminder of a future that never happened, of a goodbye I wasn’t ready to hear.

But now, after everything that Will and I had just talked about, it felt like the right time. Like I finally had the strength to face it.

My eyes were fixed on the envelope.

CLARK

ONLY TO BE READ IN THE CAFE MARQUIS RUE DES FRANCE BOURGEOIS, ACCOMPANIED BY CROISSANTS AND A LARGE CAFE CREME.

I traced my finger over the typewritten text, my heart tightening. It had been days since Treena handed it to me, and I’d been avoiding it ever since. But with my conversation with Will still fresh in my mind, I felt ready to see what he’d written all those weeks ago.

I took a deep breath, my fingers trembling slightly as I carefully opened the envelope. For a moment, I just held it in my lap, staring down at it like it was something fragile, something that might break me if I wasn’t careful.

What if I’m not ready?

But then, I thought of Will’s face when I told him I wasn’t going anywhere. I thought of how he’d looked at me—like maybe, for the first time, he wanted me to stay. I thought of the promise I made to him. No matter what, I wouldn’t allow anything to hold me back from living a full life. I meant it. 

The letter was longer than I expected. My heart raced as I unfolded the pages and closed my eyes for a moment, preparing myself for whatever I was about to read.

Then I began.

Clark, 

A few weeks should have passed by the time you read this (even given your newfound organizational skills, I doubt you will have made it to Paris before Early September). 

I stopped, already feeling the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. Of course, he’d want to imagine me in Paris. I recalled our conversation all those months ago and the wistful expression he got when he talked about the last time he’d been there. I took a deep breath and pushed forward. 

… And if you look down the road to your left, you will hopefully see L’Artisan parfumeur, where, after you read this, you should go and try the scent called something like Papillons Extreme (can’t quite remember). I always thought it would smell great on you. 

Okay, instructions over. 

I sniffed. So bossy, I thought with a watery smile. 

When you get back to England, take this letter to Micheal in his London office, and he will give you the relevant documents so you can access an account he has set up for me in your name. 

My eyes grew wide, and I began to shake my head. Oh, Will! The words blurred as the tears came, but I wiped them away quickly, my heart squeezing tighter with each line.

Clark, I can practically hear you starting to hyperventilate from here. Don’t start panicking, or trying to give it away—

I couldn’t stop the sob that escaped then, my hand trembling as I held the paper. Of course, he knew how I’d react this way. He knew me better than anyone else. And he’d know how hard it would be for me to accept such generosity. I wanted to go to him right now, but he needed his rest, and I didn’t know what I could possibly say. 

I pressed my lips together, determined to keep reading.

So this is it. You are scored on my heart, Clark. You were from the first day you walked in with your ridiculous clothes and your bad jokes and your complete inability to ever hide a single thing you felt. You changed my life so much more than this money will ever change yours. 

Don’t think of me too often. I don’t want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well. 

Just live.

Love, 

Will 

As I stared at the final line, “Just live,” I wondered what Will had felt when he wrote it. Did he truly believe I would move on and find some grand life without him? The thought made my heart ache because even now, after everything, I wasn’t sure I could do that.

The letter fell from my hands, landing softly on the bed beside me as I stared at the ceiling, tears streaming down my cheeks. I felt a strange mixture of emotions—sadness, relief, and something else I hadn’t expected.

Hope.

The man who had written this letter was ready to say goodbye. But the man in the annex, only a few feet away from me, was trying, in his own way, to keep going. He was still here. Maybe that meant there was a future for us after all. I wiped my eyes, taking a deep breath. Will had wanted me to live boldly, to see the world, to do all the things he believed I was capable of. And maybe I hadn’t been ready before, but now... now I felt like I could.

We could.

Maybe one day, the two of us in Paris will be sipping coffee and eating croissants together. 

I stood up, folding the letter carefully and placing it back on the bedside table. I’d read it again one day when the time was right. But for now, I had something far more important to focus on.

Will.

We weren’t out of the woods yet. There were still challenges ahead, still things to face together. But after reading his words, I knew I wasn’t scared anymore.

We could make this work. I would find a way.

I wouldn’t live in fear of his past decisions, of the choices he almost made. Instead, I would focus on what we had now—and what we could build together.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything lift from my shoulders. Then, with a new sense of determination, I finished unpacking, my thoughts still swirling around Will and the future ahead.

---

 

The following day, the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the garden as I knelt, my fingers digging into the earth, placing the last seeds in neat little rows. It had taken some hard work, but the garden was finally coming together. I wiped the sweat from my brow and glanced back at Will, who was parked at the edge of the garden, overseeing the entire operation with his usual air of authority.

“Clark, you’re doing it wrong,” Will said.

I looked up, squinting in the sunlight. “What? I’m literally following your instructions.”

Will tilted his head, his sharp eyes scanning the rows I’d planted. “No, you’re not. The spacing is uneven. You’re supposed to leave at least two inches between the seeds, not five. Honestly, do I have to supervise everything?” He grinned, unable to hide his amusement despite his faux cantankerous tone. 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Well, if you’re so clever, why don’t you do it yourself?” I shot back, knowing full well what his response would be.

Will raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Believe me, if I could, this garden would already be a masterpiece. But as it stands, you’ll just have to make do with my brilliant direction.”

I stood up, stretching my arms over my head. “I think it looks fine,” I said, surveying the work I’d done. “Besides, perfection is overrated. This garden is about growing stuff, not being a showcase for the Chelsea Flower Show.”

Will made a low sound that could have been a chuckle or a grunt of disapproval. “I’ll settle for the garden not being a complete disaster. Now, grab the wildflower seeds and plant them along the edge. The symmetry is all off.”

“Bossy,” I muttered, but I obeyed, grabbing the packet of wildflower seeds and crouching down again.

As I worked, I noticed Will’s gaze never left me. His eyes followed every movement like he couldn't take his eyes off me. There was something different about today—something lighter. Maybe it was the garden, maybe it was the fresh air, or maybe it was just the simple fact that we were doing something together.

After a while, I stood up, brushing the dirt off my hands. “There,” I said, gesturing toward the newly planted seeds. “Satisfied, Mr. Traynor?”

Will’s eyes flicked to the garden and then back to me. “For now, Ms. Clark.”

I grinned and walked over to him.“You know, you could be a little more grateful. I’m doing all the hard work here.”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” he teased.

I laughed, shaking my head. “And here I thought we were supposed to be in this together.”

Will narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “We are. That’s why I’m going to remind you about the watering can you left sitting there unused. Don’t forget, the seeds won’t grow without water, Clark.”

I glanced at the can he was referring to, the one I’d been avoiding because it was heavy and awkward to use. I sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll water them, boss.” I mock saluted him. 

As I picked up the can and started watering the freshly planted seeds, Will continued instructing me. “Don’t drown them. A light mist is enough. And make sure you hit the edges.”

I smirked. “You do realize I’ve been doing this for days now, right? I’m practically a professional gardener.”

“I’ll believe it when I see the results,” Will shot back, his tone full of challenge.

I watered the last plants, setting the can down with a satisfied thud. “There. All done. Happy?”

Will didn’t respond immediately, his gaze shifting from the garden to me. His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his eyes replaced by something gentler. “You’re a disaster in the garden,” he said, “but I suppose I’ll allow it.”

I laughed, knowing that was as close to a compliment as I would get. “Thanks. I’ll take it.”

For a moment, we just sat there in the quiet of the garden. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the lawn, and I could feel a sense of peace settling over us. Last night’s conversation was cathartic. Reading his letter was bittersweet, but it showed how much he cared about me. Will said I was scored on his heart, and he was written on mine, too. 

I know he didn’t plan this; it wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t the grand life Will had once imagined, but it was something. It was ours.

I moved closer, resting my hand on his arm. “Will... I’ve been thinking about what you said. About living boldly.”

His gaze shifted to mine, the softness in his eyes turning serious. “Clark—”

“No, hear me out,” I interrupted, squeezing his arm. “I read your letter last night after our talk, and it gave me a lot to think about. I think you're right about broadening my horizons. I never thought about it much before, but you changed me. I'm not the same Louisa Clark anymore. I think I should enroll in school again. You know, like we talked about before. And I want to travel and see the world. Maybe even try buttery croissants in France one day.”

Will’s expression didn’t change, but I could see the flicker of interest behind his eyes. “You should. You’re wasting your talents sitting here with me, playing in the dirt.”

I shook my head. “I’m not wasting anything. I can still live and be close to you, Will. Being here doesn’t mean I can’t do more. I can return to school, take classes... and do anything I want, including being with you.”

Will was quiet for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face as if he were trying to gauge how serious I was. Finally, he spoke. “The money I left for you, it’s still yours, Clark. It’s there for you to use for whatever you want—school, travel, your future.”

I bit my lip, the emotion welling up inside me. “Will, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Will cut in, his voice soft but firm. “Just promise me you won’t let me hold you back.”

I nodded, my throat tight. “I won’t. I promise.”

"Good," Will said, his voice dropping to a lower tone, almost hesitant. "I’ve also made my decision about the carer position."

My stomach dipped. We’d been operating in limbo ever since his release from the hospital. Back at home, I’d been living off my last paycheck. The money wouldn’t last much longer. But then again... I didn't have to worry about money anymore. 

"Yeah?"

He shifted slightly in his chair, and for the first time in a long while, I saw something in his eyes that wasn’t just weariness. There was something deeper, more vulnerable. "I’m not going to offer it to you."

I blinked. "What?"

"You’re more than a carer, Lou. You’re more than that to me." He paused as if choosing his next words carefully. "You’ve always been more."

My heart pounded. "So, what are you saying, Will?"

His gaze held mine, unwavering, and there was no hiding behind half-truths this time. "I’m saying that I care for you deeply, Clark. I think you know that. I want us to stop pretending this is just some arrangement between a patient and his carer. I don’t care if we call it a relationship, a partnership, whatever—it’s real, and I don’t want to lose it. I know I’m selfish, but I can't imagine a life without you in it."

I was stunned. My breath caught in my throat as the words settled around us, the air thick with everything I’d wanted to hear for so long. My hands trembled slightly, but I refused to look away.

"Are you for real, Will Traynor?" I whispered.

Will nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes. I am. And I think you know that."

I let out a shaky breath, the tension in my chest loosening in a way I hadn’t felt in months. Before I could stop myself, I slid onto his lap just as I had in Mauritius, my arms naturally slipping around his neck. His eyes widened a mix of surprise and something deeper flickering behind them.

"Clark," he started, but I silenced him with a small smile.

“I just need this,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.

His gaze softened, and I could feel the unspoken understanding between us. Gently, I leaned in, my heart pounding, and pressed my lips against his. His lips were softer than I remembered, the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips grounding me in the moment. The faint scent of fresh earth and wildflowers clung to us, the world outside fading away as I pressed closer to him.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but sweet. It was a kiss filled with promises of what could be—no desperation, no fear, just the simple, quiet need to be near him. His lips moved slowly against mine, responding in a way that made my heart ache. It wasn’t rushed; it wasn’t about what came next. It was about now, about the quiet reassurance we both needed.

When I finally pulled back, his eyes lingered on mine, his breath just as uneven as mine. I felt his chest rise and fall beneath me, and I felt… loved.

“You have my heart, Clark,” Will said, his voice soft but steady. His eyes never left mine, and I could see the truth in them. "You’ve always had it."

My throat tightened, and I pressed my forehead against his, my fingers brushing lightly against his jawline. “And you have mine,” I whispered. “Forever.”

Chapter 12: Will

Notes:

Now that Will has started to open himself up to the possibilities of his new life, there will be many more sweet moments to balance out the angst of the first few chapters. Be prepared for some light fluff...

Also, I'm mostly using the book as inspiration for this story, but I am cherry-picking some things from the movie (which I also love). In the book, Lou and Will lived in the fictional town of Bishop’s Stortford. I liked the idea of keeping the fictional town because I could expand on it without worrying about messing up locations in Pembroke, where they lived in the movie universe.

The room was dim, the light from the TV casting soft shadows along the walls. The familiar hum of E.T. filled the air, but I wasn’t really watching. My attention flickered between the movie and Lou, sitting beside me on the couch, her eyes glued to the screen, completely engrossed with a bowl of popcorn and a box of Reese’s Pieces—at her insistence. 

“You can’t watch E.T. Without Reese’s, Will Traynor,” she had said, making me smile." 

A few weeks passed since she moved back in and since that earth-shattering kiss. Every day, things got better, and I had to admit that Lou made me feel a little more... alive. I also couldn't complain about the acts of affection she showed me daily. Seven months ago, I never would have imagined someone like Lousia Clark in my life—someone who treated me like a man. We had our challenges, but we worked through them. There were good and bad times, but I could get through them with Lou at my side. 

The cease-and-desist Michael sent to the press had done its job; the endless phone calls, the relentless knocking on the door, the invasive questions—they’d all finally stopped. I no longer feel like the world is watching, waiting for some salacious story to print. 

There are still moments—quiet, fleeting moments—when my thoughts drift back to that conversation we had about Patrick’s betrayal. It was late, after one of our movie nights, and she’d confessed the truth in that halting way of hers, her eyes filled with guilt and apology.

I didn't say much at the time, trying to absorb the fact that the man who was once so important to Lou had been the one to sell my story. I had sat quietly as she spoke, wondering why Lou hadn’t told me sooner. But the issue was done, and there was no use dwelling on it. Lou made a mistake, and I realized that I would forgive her anything. 

Even as I pushed the thought aside, the noise inside me wouldn’t quiet down. It was still there, the weight of Switzerland slipping through my grasp, the idea that I was holding Lou back from the life she should be living, and the fear that I’d hurt her all over again. I stole a furtive glance, feeling the familiar tightness across my skin as I studied her. 

She laughed softly at something on the screen, completely unaware of my turmoil. It never ceased to amaze me how she could lose herself in the simplest things—movies, books, even the ridiculous dresses she insisted on wearing. Tonight, she sat with her body curled up comfortably under the blanket, and I wished I could snuggle beside her—like a normal boyfriend. 

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d watched E.T. It was one of my favorites as a kid, back when I was still convinced that life was this grand adventure waiting to be seized. But now, it felt like watching through a fog, like the part of me that used to connect to these stories had been dulled, worn away by years of bitterness and resignation.

Lou turned toward me, her face illuminated by the TV screen, and I forced a smile. “Enjoying this one, are you?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

She nodded, her expression soft. “Of course. It’s a classic.” She paused, studying me with that look that made me feel like she could see through every layer of pretense I put up. “You okay?”

I shrugged. “Just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve watched something like this.”

Lou smiled, her eyes lighting up as she settled back beside me. “Well, I’m glad we’re watching it together. It’s better with company.” 

“So, I’m company?” 

Company. That’s what I was now—someone to sit with, someone to fill the silence. But there were days when it felt like I was a burden instead of the person she needed me to be.

“Yep.” 

She eased off the sofa and poured a few Reese’s in her hand before feeding me a few, and my morose thoughts dissipated as if they were never there. 

“Delicious,” I teased, conveying more than one meaning. 

She looked beautiful tonight, with her hair piled on her head in a sloppy bun. She was wearing a jumper and a pair of loose cotton pajama pants. I never saw anyone more breathtaking. In my past life, I wouldn’t have noticed women like Lou, not because she was unattractive, but she was right. I had my sights on women like Alicia—tall, blonde, with ice water in their veins. Lou was warm and inviting, a light that brightened up the dark spaces in my life. 

“Will?” Her expression looked curious. 

I didn’t respond immediately, my gaze drifting back to the screen. 

“Sorry. Got distracted. 

She laughed again, the sound light and infectious. “I know this isn’t your usual cinematic taste,” she said, trying to sound posh. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to get me to watch a silent film or something.” 

Her comment caught me off guard. “Silent film?” A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Oh, Clark, you think you know me so well, don’t you.” 

She nodded, her smile bright. “Well, it has been seven long months.” 

I chucked. “There’s an exhibit at the museum here. Silent films—early cinema. I think it’s still running.”

Her eyes widened, the excitement already brewing beneath the surface. “Really? I didn’t know that! We should go!”

I hesitated, the smile fading slightly. “I don’t know, Clark. Crowds, public places...”

Louisa scooted closer, her face full of that boundless optimism I admired and feared. “Come on, Will. It’ll be fun. We’ve been cooped up in here for weeks. You like silent films, right? And who better to go with than an uncultured fool like me who has no idea what she’s watching?”

I couldn’t help but laugh despite the gnawing anxiety that crept up at the thought of being out in public again. The stares, the whispers—they were always there, lurking just beneath the surface of any outing. But Lou... Lou had a way of making even the most impossible things seem doable.

“Don’t do that, Clark. You’re nobody’s fool.” 

“Alright, the untutored,” she amended. 

“We’ll see,” I muttered, shaking my head.

Lou grinned, clearly not taking my hesitation seriously. “That’s as good as a yes.” 

She shimmied her shoulders, and I longed to take her in my arms. 

---

The next morning, the weather was clear and bright for late September, sunlight streaming through the window as Nathan got me ready. The sound of Lou rustling around in the other room was familiar now, a constant presence in my once-frustrating routine.

Nathan situated me in my chair as the door slid open.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asked, peeking her head around the frame, her hair curling in loose waves. “It’s not too late to back out, you know. We can always stay in and binge more movies.”

“Clark,” I sighed. “We’re going. I agreed, didn’t I?”

“Mr. T’s already, Lou. There’s no turning back now,” Nathan said with a grin. 

Her face lit up, and she clapped her hands. The smile I’d grown so accustomed to pulled me out of my reluctance. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go—part of me was excited to be out of the house—but the other part of me...well, the other part of me still hated being seen.

But for Lou, I was willing to try.

“Alright,” she said, stepping into view, her bright red jumper oversized and hanging over her small frame. She turned in a little twirl, revealing her legs covered in the infamous bumblebee tights—the same ones I had gotten her for her birthday.

I raised an eyebrow. “The tights?”

She grinned, standing on her tiptoes and striking a mock pose. “I thought I’d wear something that matches the mood. You like them?” She stuck out her leg and flexed her ankle. 

A laugh escaped me, the tension in my shoulders loosening slightly. “I should have known.”

She crossed her arms, sticking her chin out defiantly. “Don’t pretend you don’t love them, Traynor. You gave them to me, after all.”

I chuckled. “I’ll admit, they suit you.”

Lou beamed, looking pleased with herself. “Good. You’re going to need me to distract people with all this,” she gestured to her outfit, “while we’re out.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her optimism. That’s what she did best—made everything lighter, even when it felt impossibly heavy. Still, I glanced out the window toward the road ahead of us. It had been weeks since I’d been anywhere in public. The thought of being stared at, of people whispering, always brought a familiar tightening in my chest. But this wasn’t just about me. Lou needed this.

And if I was honest with myself, maybe I did too.

She wrapped a long red scarf around my neck before leaning in and planting a chaste kiss on my lips. My cheeks warmed as I glanced at Nathan, who was grinning at us. I started growing used to little affectionate acts like this. A peck here, a kiss there. I especially liked it when she climbed onto my lap. Sometimes, I liked to pretend that I could feel the weight of her body across my thighs. 

“Do it again,” I demanded with a smile. 

And she did. 

---

After Nathan helped me into the car, we drove through our small town and chatted about everything from the weather to the last few films we watched. Although I hated it here, I had to admit Bishop’s Stortford was quite picturesque in the autumn sun. The museum itself was an unassuming building, its stone façade blending into the quiet charm of the place. Lou bounced slightly in her seat as we pulled up, her excitement infectious.

“Ready?” she asked, turning to me with that wide-eyed grin.

I hesitated, the moment stretching out before I nodded. “Only if you found the perfect spot.”

She laughed before swatting me on the shoulder, and maybe I imagined it, but my whole body felt warm. 

Inside, the museum was quieter than I expected, the air filled with the low murmur of conversations and the soft hum of the exhibit lights. I should have realized it wouldn’t be very crowded. It was a Tuesday morning in the middle of September. Lou darted ahead, enthralled by the various displays, while I kept my distance, observing more than participating. The sound of my powerchair echoed around us as I moved behind her. 

It wasn’t until we reached the silent film exhibit that I saw Lou truly come alive.

“Oh wow,” she whispered, her eyes widening as she took in the small, dimly lit room where the flickering black-and-white images played on a screen. She flagged down an usher and whispered something in his ear. The young man nodded and showed us to a wheelchair-accessible row. My chair fit perfectly. 

After a while, the soft, tinny sound of a piano accompanied Buster Keaton’s The General , transporting us back to a different time.

“This is incredible,” Lou said, barely able to contain her excitement. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I watched her face; her joy was as palpable as the light reflecting off the screen. She was so captivated, so lost in the magic of it all. It reminded me of the first film we watched together. The one I had joked about being French gay Porn—Des hommes et des dieux.

Lou glanced over at me, catching the look on my face. “See? This wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No,” I admitted. “Not bad at all.”

We sat together in the small theater, the shadows of the silent film dancing on the walls around us. The weight of the world felt a little less heavy, at least for the time being.

Lou leaned into me, her head resting lightly on my shoulder as we watched the flickering images in silence. I let myself believe that this—whatever this was between us—might just be enough.

Notes:

"Des hommes et des dieux" is the french movie they watched in the movie. I think it was something else in the book. Also, I know Reese's is an American snack, but with the World Wide Web, I figure you can order anything in case that's not a candy sold in the U.K.

Chapter 13: Lou

I awoke to Will's voice, raw and hoarse, breaking the stillness of the night. At first, I thought I was dreaming, but then I heard it again—louder, more desperate, a guttural scream that sent a chill down my spine.

I threw back the duvet and bolted out of bed, my heart racing as I dashed down the hall. Will's door was ajar. I rushed inside. Will lay there, his face contorted in agony, sweat beading on his forehead. His body was still, motionless as ever, but his chest heaved with uneven breaths, and his hand—the one with limited movement—twitched involuntarily.

"Will!" I whispered urgently, my voice trembling as I slid beside him. His face was locked in an expression of pure pain, his eyes screwed shut, trapped in whatever nightmare had him in its grip.

I reached for his arm, the only part of his upper body I could touch without startling him. “Will, wake up! It’s okay. You’re safe. I'm here.”

His breathing came out in shallow gasps, the harsh sound of his ragged breath filling the room. I gently wiped the sweat from his brow with my sleeve, murmuring soft reassurances. “It’s just a dream, Will. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

His brow furrowed deeper, his head jerking slightly, and then finally, slowly, his breathing began to steady. His eyes fluttered open, disoriented at first, blinking rapidly as the nightmare receded.

His gaze locked on mine, confusion giving way to something else—something like shame, maybe frustration. He hated being seen like this, hated the vulnerability that came with his condition.

“Lou?” His voice was thick, his throat raspy from the screaming.

“I’m here,” I whispered, keeping my voice low and steady, though my heart still pounded from the rush of fear. “It’s okay. You were just dreaming. You’re safe now.”

He exhaled shakily, turning his head away slightly, his expression tightening. “I didn’t mean to... wake you.”

“You didn’t,” I said softly, reaching for his hand. I gave it a gentle squeeze, even though I knew he couldn’t feel it. “And even if you did, it’s okay. I’m right here by your side.” I gave him a wobbly smile. 

His jaw clenched, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “It was just a nightmare.”

I nodded, though I knew there was more to it than that. Nathan had mentioned it once, offhandedly, that Will sometimes screamed in his sleep. But this was the first time I’d witnessed it myself. The first time, I’d heard the pain in his voice like this.

Gently, I brushed a few damp strands of hair off his forehead, my fingers lingering for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He didn’t answer right away; his breathing was still uneven. After a long pause, he moved his head just enough to meet my eyes. “It’s the same one.”

I frowned, leaning in closer. “The same nightmare?”

He nodded, swallowing hard before continuing. “I’m... back there. The accident. Over and over again. Sometimes it’s different. Sometimes I can move—sometimes I can’t.” His voice cracked slightly as though reliving it had worn him down. “But then... it always ends the same way. I can never stop it. Other times, I’m… out diving off cliffs into the sea. And then I wake up… trapped in this body. And I realize this is my reality.”

My skin prickled as I listened, my hand still resting on his. I couldn’t imagine what it was like, reliving that moment in his mind, feeling that helplessness again. The man Will had been before the accident had control over everything, and this—this lack of control over his own body—was a living nightmare in itself.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I wish I could take that away from you.”

He closed his eyes, his expression softening as if the idea of someone sharing this burden was too much to bear. “You can’t.”

“I know,” I admitted, my throat tight. “But I’m here. Through it all. I promise.”

There was a long stretch of silence between us, the quiet hum of the night filling the space around us. I watched him, saw how his chest rose and fell, his breathing finally returning to something normal. He didn’t push me away, and for that, I was grateful.

After a while, his eyes opened again, and when he looked at me, there was a hint of something softer in his gaze—gratitude, maybe. Or relief. I wasn’t sure. But it felt like a step, however small.

“You should go back to sleep,” he said quietly, his voice steadier now. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”

I shook my head, refusing to move. “I’ll stay with you until you do. I’m not leaving you alone.”

His lips twitched slightly as though he wanted to argue, but then he gave up, sighing. “Alright, Clark. You win.”

I smiled softly, settling beside him on the bed, my fingers brushing through his hair as I leaned closer. “I usually do,” I said before kissing his lips. I sighed when he kissed me back, soft and promising.  I settled under the blanket beside him and rested my face against his chest. 

After ensuring Will slept peacefully, I quietly slipped out of his room and padded down the hall to the spare bedroom, the tension from earlier still weighing heavily on my chest. I closed the door softly behind me, the faint sound of the wind outside the only thing breaking the silence.

I let out a shaky breath and sat on the edge of the bed, my mind still reeling from everything that had just happened. Will’s nightmares were more intense than I could have imagined, and seeing him in that state had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. But despite the exhaustion that tugged at my limbs, I felt an overwhelming sense of love for him—a deep, fierce determination to help him through this, no matter how hard it got.

I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to share what had happened and get some reassurance that I wasn’t alone in this. I reached for my laptop and logged into the quad support chat group, the one place where I knew I could find comfort and understanding—for the most part.

It wasn’t long before I saw the familiar usernames pop up: Ritchie, Maggie, and a few others were online. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I began typing.

Busy Bee:
I know it’s been a while, but I have some news. 

I typed as fast as I could, recounting almost everything that happened since that last day in the chatroom when I told them about Will’s decision to go to Switzerland. Immediately, the responses came in, expressing surprise and saying words of encouragement. After a bit of catching up, I told them about tonight. 

Busy Bee

Will had a rough night. Nightmare again. I managed to calm him down, but it was hard. I hate seeing him like that. 

Little notification bubbles lit up as my friends began to reply.

Ritchie
That sounds so tough, Bee. But you’re doing great. Seriously. Will’s lucky to have you there. 

MaggieMay
You’re amazing, Bee. Just keep being there for him. That’s what he needs most right now. 

I smiled faintly, feeling a warmth spread through me as I read their words. These people—this group—had been with me through everything, through the highs and lows of the last few months. They understood how much this journey with Will meant to me, and they were always there to lift me up when I needed it most.

Busy Bee
Thanks, guys. I just wish there was more I could do.  Any more ideas for fun things Will and I could do together? Something light? We saw a silent movie together a few days ago, and it seemed to distract him. I think more things like that would be good for him. 

The chat buzzed to life again, suggestions pouring in from all sides.

Ritchie
What about a board game night? Something low-key but fun.

MaggieMay:
How about cooking together? You could make a meal from scratch. Might be a nice change of pace.

Then, another suggestion popped up, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

SingItSam:
How about karaoke? It’s light, it’s fun, and no one can take it too seriously. And you don’t need legs or hands. 

Karaoke? I pictured Will’s face at the very idea, the way his eyebrow would arch in disbelief, and the exasperated expression that would follow. But beneath the surface, I knew he might secretly enjoy it, even if only for the chance to tease me.

I grinned at the thought, already imagining the banter that would ensue.

Busy Bee:
Karaoke? Oh, he’d hate it. But maybe... that’s what we need. Something silly. 

Ritchie
Exactly! It’s about letting loose and having a laugh. Could be just what the doctor ordered. 

The more I thought about it, the more the idea grew on me. Will and I could use a break from the heaviness that seemed to follow us around sometimes. Maybe a little fun—something lighthearted like karaoke—was exactly what we needed to ease the tension and remind us that life didn’t have to be all about the struggle. In the past, I planned all these grand adventures, but maybe we didn’t need adventures. Maybe we needed normal? I could build us up to the grand plans I made before. 

Busy Bee:
Alright, I’ll pitch it to him. I’m sure his response will be... interesting. 

As the chat continued, I felt a sense of calm settle over me. I wasn’t alone in this. And with Will by my side—and my friends cheering me on—I knew we’d find our way through whatever challenges lay ahead.

Before signing off for the night, I sent one last message.

Busy Bee
Thanks, guys. Really. I needed this. 

Ritchie
Always here for you, Bee. You’ve got this. 

With a smile, I set my laptop aside and settled back into bed, my mind already turning to tomorrow. Karaoke night... I could only imagine the look on Will’s face.

But deep down, I knew it might be exactly what we both needed.

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. Will was already awake, his head resting against the pillows, his sharp eyes following my every movement as I entered with Nathan trailing behind me.

"Good morning," I said brightly, walking to his bedside. "Ready for another exciting day, Traynor?"

Will rolled his eyes, though there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Depends on what you consider exciting, Clark."

I studied his face. In the light of day, the night terror seemed like a distant memory. Still, I don’t think I will ever forget the sound of his screams. My spine still tingled every time I thought about it. 

Nathan gave me a knowing look as he set down the supplies on the table. "You’re in for a real treat today, mate. Lou’s in charge."

I grinned, stepping closer to Will’s head. "Well, then. Let’s start with that hair of yours. I mean, you’re looking a bit scruffy these days." I ran my fingers through his dark hair, tousling it playfully before picking up a comb.

Will raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Scruffy? I thought this was the rugged look. Thought women liked that."

I snorted. "Maybe in a different context. But you—" I continued finger combing his hair. "—need a proper cut."

Will chuckled, leaning his head back to let me work. "I’ve heard worse insults."

"Don’t worry," I said, mock-serious, "I’ll make sure you look as dashing as ever before we go anywhere. But seriously, you do need a trim." I combed his hair back, thinking about how natural it felt to care for him like this—little gestures that connected us.

Nathan smirked, finishing up adjusting the equipment at Will's side. "She’s right, you know. You’re overdue for a cut. Might get mistaken for a rebel or something."

Will shot Nathan a mock glare. "Fine."

I laughed as I finished smoothing out his hair. "There we go. All handsome again."

"Always," Will quipped.

Together, Nathan and I worked together to get Will ready for the day. I helped him into his power chair, and Nathan followed Will to the bathroom. I trailed behind them but stopped at the door, unsure if he wanted me in that intimate space with him. Things were still fresh between us as we navigated this new phase of our relationship. I know Will was self-conscious about his body, and it pained him for me to see him when he was his most vulnerable. I hoped one day that, he would be comfortable enough with me to allow me into every corner of his life. I wanted to be his partner in every way. 

Once we finished getting Will settled, Nathan and I headed to the kitchen, our usual morning routine clicking into place. I grabbed the kettle, filling it with water for tea while Nathan busied himself with breakfast.

"Hey, Nathan," I began, my voice casual as I leaned against the counter. "I was thinking… maybe we could do something fun this weekend."

Nathan glanced up, his eyebrow raised. "Like what?"

I bit my lip, trying to keep my excitement in check. "Well, you know how Will and I spend most of our time cooped up in the annex. I thought maybe we could get him out of the house more. Something light-hearted and fun."

Nathan gave me a curious look. "Alright, Lou What’s the plan?"

"Karaoke," I blurted out, unable to hide the grin that spread across my face.

Nathan blinked, a slow smile spreading as he leaned back against the counter. "Karaoke? Really?"

"Yes! Think about it—he needs a break from the seriousness of everything. And what better way to have fun than belting out some terrible songs at a pub?"

Nathan laughed, shaking his head. "You’re mad, you know that?"

"Maybe," I admitted with a shrug. "But I think Will could use a bit of madness right now. And, you know, we could invite my sister Treena too. She’s home from uni this weekend, and I bet she’d love to join."

Nathan looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "It’s not a bad idea. But I don’t know… Will might feel self-conscious about it. All those people.”

Right people. I wanted Will to start getting used to the idea of being seen out in public doing normal things like eating, shopping, and having a beer at a pub with friends. But I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. I didn’t want to do anything to hurt him or make him feel less than. I wanted Will to see that he could have a full life. No, he might not be able to dive off cliffs into the sea anymore, but we could still have fun. 

My lips turned down. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that.” 

“But he might like going to a pub. If we call ahead, maybe we can get them to reserve a table somewhere less visible.”

“That could work.” 

“And he doesn’t have to sing. All he has to do is watch us make fools of ourselves.” 

“I laughed. He might actually enjoy that.” 

Nathan grinned. “I think you’re onto something, Lou.” 

"Now, all we have to do is convince him to go.” 

Chapter 14: Will

She did it. 

Lou convinced me, Will Traynor, to go out to a pub for karaoke night. I'm still not sure how she did it, but I realized again there was nothing I wouldn't do for Louisa Clark. Her happiness meant the world to me. I suspect Nathan knew it, too. I wasn't oblivious to his tongue-in-cheek remarks as we dressed for the evening. 

My nerves shot off like rockets, tensing my shoulders and making my heart thrum beneath my skin. I still hated being seen out in public. The day at the silent film museum wasn't so bad because we were mostly in the dark. Tonight, I pictured a crowded bar with rowdy football fans, chatty waitresses, and too many people gawking at me. 

But Lou thought it would be fun. Part of me missed going to the pub and doing simple things like ordering a pint. I’d even done a few drunken nights of karaoke with Rupert and Freddie, but I had no plans on putting myself on display tonight. It was one thing for the old Will Traynor to make an arse of himself while singing covers of pop tunes and the man I am today. 

Still, I couldn't help the bit of optimism Lou must have shot me with earlier when she administered my medication. That's the only explanation that made sense. 

We paused outside the local pub—The Blue Boar Tavern—to collect ourselves. True to its name, a painted blue boar adorned the sign above the door. Someone had placed a chalkboard sign next to the entrance welcoming guests with the night’s specials—a pitcher of the local craft beer for six quid. And in bright pink and blue chalk, an excited announcement about karaoke.

Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” wafted through the door, along with the off-key singing accompanying it. I swallowed hard, hoping neither Lou nor Nathan would expect me to get up in front of the crowd and try my hand at the Beetles or something equally cliche. They both promised me that there was no expectation for me to perform, and I would hold them to it. 

“Tonight's going to be fun,” Lou said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. She gave it a light squeeze. 

I moved my eyes to look at her and curved my lips into a wan smile. “Right. I can't wait for you to regale us with your rendition of ‘Spice Up Your Life,’” I teased. 

She laughed, and it almost sounded like a snort. “I'll have you know that song is a certified classic. But if I'm going to do any Spice Girls song tonight, it has to be ‘If You Wanna Be My Lover.’"

I stared at her for a moment. Oh, she had no idea. 

Nathan cleared his throat, getting both of our attention. “Bit nippy out here. Think we should head inside?”

I felt a slight chill on my face, but he was right. Even if the rest of my body was numb to the cold, that didn't mean I was immune to it. 

“Sure. Treen knows to meet us here. I think you'll both like her,” Lou said as we headed inside. 

I used my working thumb to navigate my power chair through the entrance, but my back wheel caught on the threshold. A bead of sweat formed on my brow as I tried not to pay attention to my surroundings. Instead, I baked up and moved forward a few times before finally crossing over. My heart thumped loudly in my ears, but I made it over. The whole time, I could sense a dozen curious eyes on me, and the familiar feeling of regret crept along my skin, warming it. I shouldn't have allowed them to talk me into this. The thought echoed in my mind, making me feel even more self-conscious. 

Lou placed her hand on my shoulder again. “So far, so good,” she whispered close to my ear. “You're doing great.” 

This was a change from the over-enthusiastic Lou, who dragged me to a horse race once upon a time. I glanced at her, noticing the encouraging smile on her lips, and I wanted to believe her. 

Nathan flagged down a blonde woman dressed in a black mini skirt, fishnet tights, Doc Martens, and a black slouch jumper. Her eyes lit up, and she nodded before showing us our table—an inconspicuous booth at the back of the house. 

I looked at Nathan, and he grinned as I navigated my chair toward the back. I wedged myself next to the leather seat beside Lou, realizing I could sit beside her and still have a sliver of the table in front of me. I didn't even block the path. 

“How’s that, Mr. T?” Nathan asked. 

“You're off the clock tonight, Nathan. It's just Will.” 

He chuckled. “Force of habit.” 

Lou drummed a beat with her hands on the table. “Why don't we order a pitcher, yeah? It's the weekend. Time to have fun!” 

Nathan and I nodded in agreement, and a few minutes later, our waitress, another blonde woman, greeted us with a friendly smile. 

“I'm Elle,” she said, introducing herself. “And I'll be serving you tonight.” She looked at each of us with big hazel eyes. 

I waited for her to avert her gaze when she stopped on me, but she never did. They always looked away, especially the pretty ones. Elle just kept on smiling—a genuine kind that reached her eyes, surprising me. 

“We’ll have a pitcher of your local tap!” Lou ordered with her natural enthusiasm. 

“Make that two pitchers,” I added. “We’ve got another person coming.” 

Elle nodded. “Two pitchers coming up. Let me know if you need a menu or anything else.” 

I watched her leave, grateful that her presence hadn't made the interaction more awkward than it needed to be. 

“So, Nathan, what song do you plan on belting out tonight?” I asked. 

Nathan chuckled. “I think karaoke is more of a spectator's sport, mate.” 

I laughed with him. “I'm afraid I'll have to agree.” 

“Oh, come on, you two. Don't be spoilsports. I can't be the only one willing to make a fool of myself tonight.” 

I laughed, feeling the tension ebb from my neck and shoulders. For some reason, tonight with Lou felt like old times. It reminded me of the hours we spent together—easy moments filled with laughter. 

“Well, you've got Treena to duet with you.” 

Lou grinned. “Speaking of Treena, here she comes.” 

Even though I had never met Treena, I immediately noticed the resemblance between the sisters. Although there were obvious differences, they both had the classic Clark family trait of dark hair and warm smiles. Treena wore her hair in a collar-length bob that framed her heart-shaped face. Unlike Lou, she had a sensible taste in style, wearing a dark blue peacoat, a cream jumper, and a pair of jeans. 

“Hey, everyone!” She greeted us. 

Lou slid to the other side of the booth so I wouldn't have to move, and Nathan stood up, allowing her to stand. The sisters gave each other a brief hug. 

“Treen, this is Nathan and Will,” Lou said, introducing us. 

Treena gave Nathan a polite hug Before turning in my direction. There was a brief moment of awkwardness as she tried to decide how to execute the maneuver with me, but soon, she enveloped me in her arms. 

“Nice to finally meet you, Will,” Treena said with a smile. “I swear, Lou wouldn't shut up about you from the moment you met. I feel like I already know you.” 

“Treena!” Lou balled up a tiny black napkin and threw it at her.

“Well, it's true,” she said, sandwiching herself between Nathan and Lou. “I'm really glad we got to meet. You were such a big part of Lou’s life; it felt like a shame we never got around to it.” 

Lou’s eyes darted to the side, and she shifted in her seat. 

“I know. I was looking forward to meeting the whole family for Clark’s birthday. But I understand you were away at uni,” I said, ignoring the elephant in the room. 

“Yes. I had an exam and couldn't make it.” 

“Clark tells me you're studying accounting.” 

Treena nodded. “I've always been good with numbers and figures.”

“Kind of the opposite of Clark. She got the fashion bug, I take it.” 

“Yep. Though she's always had her own style.”

“She's been thinking about returning to school and studying fashion.” 

Lou shrugged. “I've been researching some programs.” A warm blush brightened her cheeks, and I gave her an encouraging smile. 

“That'll be good for her,” Treena said. “I always thought Lou could do more with her Iife. Anyway, Will, I understand you were some big corporate hotshot before—back in the day.” 

“Guilty as charged.” 

Lou slapped her hand on the table. “Alright, enough of this work talk. Tonight is all about fun, fun, fun!” 

That garnered a chuckle out of all of us. “Right, if fun includes singing oldies but goodies.” 

Treena’s eyes lit up. “Are you signing too, Will?” 

“Oh, no, I'm leaving the crooning to you three.”

“More like you two,” Nathan amended. 

Treena laughed. “Oh, what kind of wingman are you? The whole point of karaoke is to have fun while making an arse of yourself.” 

“So I've heard,” Nathan said. 

Treena poked him in the arm. “Then it's settled. You have to sing.” 

Nathan laughed, his eyes bright. His cheeks colored, but he didn't deny her this time. 

I looked at Lou and grinned. The little matchmaker. 

Treena convinced Nathan to sing, and he and Lou were by the bar belting out a rousing rendition of “Shout” together. 

The entire pub buzzed with energy as everyone else sang and danced along. I even talked my thumb to the beat as I watched them. They looked like they were having fun, laughing and stumbling over the words. I wanted to be up there with her, laughing and stumbling over the words, too. But I wasn't there yet. 

“So, Will, how is my sister?” she asked over the music. 

I pulled my gaze off Lou, forcing myself to focus on Treena. I heard the protective edge in her voice, and my lip twitched. I knew she and Lou hadn't always gotten along, but the bond between siblings was true. No matter how much Georgina and I complained about one another, we were fiercely protective of the other. 

I drew in A breath, considering my words with care. “She's Clark. Annoyingly optimistic, caring, full of hope, and incredibly resilient.” 

Treena’s lips curved into a slight smile. “Good. I'm worried about her. We all are.” 

“Of course,” I agreed. “Things between us haven't been easy.” No sense in pulling punches. 

“No, they haven't.” She stared at me, her dark brown eyes unwavering. “Lou was a wreck because of you. She tried so hard to convince you to stay alive, and in the end, you still chose death. It hit her hard. It hit us all hard.” 

“I know…” my voice was low. I don't know if she can hear me. 

“My parents are worried about her. Especially my mom. They don't want to see her hurt again.” 

“Your parents kicked her out,” I said defensively. 

“I know. But it's only because they don't want to see her go down that path again with you. You weren't here, so you didn't see what your decision did to her. She was heartbroken, devastated. Nothing we said could cheer her up. Then suddenly, you came back into her life, and she's at square one again—her life revolving around you, Will Traynor.” 

Her words shot straight through my heart. A flood of guilt passed over me, threatening to drown me on the spot. I closed my eyes and imagined a broken-hearted Lou grieving for me. Even though I had asked her to be strong and move beyond me in my letter, I should have known that would be impossible for a woman like her. She gave so freely. Loved so deeply. I wanted to believe that our six months together hadn't made much of an impact on her life in the long run, but I see now I was so very wrong. 

“I wanted her to move on and forget about me.” 

Treena laughed as if I told her the world's funniest joke. “Impossible. Lou loves you.” She paused. “And I suspect you love her, too, whether you've admitted it to yourself or her. We want what's best for Lou. Some kind of assurance that you won't hurt her again.” 

Another wave of guilt struck me. I knew I had caused Lou a great deal of pain, and I never wanted to do that again. But I couldn't make any promises… not yet. 

“Look, Treena, I get it. I'm the arse that blew your sister's world apart. And believe me, I understand that I hurt her deeply. It was never my intention then, and it isn't now. I never suspected I'd come to care for Clark as much as I do. And I wish I could say that I'll never hurt her again, but I can't make that promise.” I paused, gathering up my thoughts. “But what I can promise is honesty. No matter what happens, I'll make sure that Lou knows my intentions every step of the way.” 

That was the best I could do for now. I wish I had a crystal ball that could tell me where we'd be a month, six months, hell, even a year from now. But I couldn't. And as much as I was trying, I couldn’t make any promises that I wouldn't end up in Switzerland. 

I care about Lou. She's the only thing that keeps me going. But I don't know if that will ever be enough. 

“Well, you better. Or I'll kill you myself,” she said stone-faced. 

I stared at her, unable to decide if she was joking. Then she smiled, and the tension left my shoulders. 

“If I hurt her again, you have my word that I won't put up a fight. Not that I can put up much of a fight anyway,” I joked. 

She laughed with me. “I'll hold you to that,” she said as Lou and Nathan returned to our table, skin flushed and eyes shining. 

I gave Treena a thin smile. Perhaps it was time that I reached out to Josie and Bernard. I at least owed them that. 

“Alright, who's up for another pour?” Nathan asked as he settled back down. 

Chapter 15: Lou

I held a frosted glass of beer to Will’s lips, allowing him to drink without a straw. Beer with a straw didn’t feel right to me. With some careful maneuvering, I was able to help Will with minimal dribble. Smiling, I used the pad of my thumb to wipe his chin. Will returned my smile, warming my heart. I played it cool all night, but I worried about him. The pub was packed with locals, and I knew a few of them stared when we first arrived. As the night wore on, we received less and less attention as more people hit the stage and sang their hearts out to show tunes and pop music. 

“Got any more songs in you?” Will asked. 

I shrugged. I wanted to sing with him, but I didn’t dare ask. Take it slow, Lou , I coached myself. “Maybe.” I gave him a coy smile. 

“We can do one together,” Treena said. 

I glanced at Will, and he gave me an encouraging nod, telling me with his eyes that he could manage without me. Minutes later, Treena and I stood in front of the crowd, each with a microphone. The beginning harmony of Sonny and Cher’s " I Got You Babe " came through the speakers, and immediately, Treena and I flubbed the words. I giggled as I watched the screen, trying to catch up. 

My eyes found Will at the back of the pub. He was watching me, his eyes shining, and I nearly melted at his smile. God, I loved that smile—his real smile. The one where his dimples showed, and it reached his beautiful green eyes. Before I could think better of it, I moved to the back of the crowd, the cordless microphone in my hand as I sang. 

“And when I'm sad, you're a clown

And if I get scared, you're always around…” 

Will looked up at me, the smile still on his lips as I slid into his lap. 

“So let them say your hair's too long…”  I ran my hand through his soft hair. 

“Cause I don't care, with you I can't go wrong...

Then put your little hand in mine…” On cue, I laid my hand over his and held his hand. 

“There ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb.” I gazed into his eyes as I sang, wanting to convey my feelings into each lyric, infusing them with the same devotion Sonny had for Cher. 

“Babe…” I grinned at him and then placed the microphone under his chin with an encouraging nod. 

He hesitated momentarily, and I saw a dozen emotions flash across his face. Then, finally, his grin returned. 

“I got you, babe, I got you, babe,” we sang together. 

When the song ended, the pub exploded in raucous applause and catcalls. A few people whistled, and a patron or two clapped Will on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner. Some even expressed envy, saying things like, “You’ve got a hell of a woman, mate,” or “You better hold on to that one.” 

My smile split my face, and I know I must have looked like a grinning fool. Our waitress, Elle, took the microphone from my hand and said, “Are you going to kiss him or what?” 

“Oh, what the hell,” I said with a shrug and stared into Will’s eyes. “Is it okay if I kiss you now, Will Traynor?” I asked. 

“You better,” he said. 

And that’s exactly what I did. As I leaned in, the noise of the pub seemed to fade, and for a moment, it was just the two of us. His lips met mine softly, a quiet promise between us. The warmth of him, the certainty of his presence, made everything else disappear. I pulled back, breathless, my heart full.

---

The night was almost perfect. 

As we left the Blue Boar, my steps came up short in front of the door. Patrick walked in, and he wasn’t alone. My eyes drifted to the woman beside him. She was taller than me and had long, thick blonde hair. Her face was made up with subtle makeup, highlighting her natural good looks. Like Patrick, she appeared fit—like she woke up every morning at five a.m. for a run. After my initial shock wore off, I recognized her from the fitness club. She worked the juice bar. 

“Lou! What are you doing here?” Pat asked, and I knew he was genuinely surprised to see me out and about. 

“It’s karaoke night.” 

He laughed awkwardly, his eyes dancing between me, Treena, Nathan, and finally Will. The smile on his face dropped a fraction. “Didn’t think you fancied being out in public.” 

He said that to me, but I knew those words were meant for Will. 

“Gotta get some fresh air, mate,” Will said, his voice neutral. 

Patrick nodded, then glanced at his date, remembering he wasn’t alone. “Lou, this is Mellie. You might remember her from the club.” 

I gave the woman a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Same,” she said, looking bored. 

“Mellie’s my girlfriend,” Patrick said, eyes boring into mine. 

I don’t know what I expected to feel, but I was surprised to find that I didn’t feel anything—not sadness, regret, or jealousy. Nothing. I studied tanned, fit Mellie for a moment. She was exactly the kind of girl that Patrick needed. Someone who enjoyed the things he did. Someone who cared about resting heart rates and fasted cardio. I hoped they were happy together. We all deserve a little happiness in our lives. 

“Congratulations!” Treena said, breaking the awkward silence left by his announcement. 

“Yeah, congrats,” I added. 

“Thanks. Pat, I’m going to find us a table,” Mellie excused herself. 

“Will, you’re looking fit,” Patrick said. “Been taking some of my advice.” 

I glanced at Will and fought the urge to kick Patrick on his shin. The nerve! 

Will's expression remained neutral, but I could see the flicker of irritation in his eyes. He met Patrick’s gaze with an almost unnerving calm. “Actually, I have. Good thing Clark’s been around to sponge me down after.” 

I nearly choked on the air and bit back my laughter as Patrick turned beet red. Oh, I was going to get Will for that when we returned home. 

“Oh, I—” Partick sputtered, his gaze shifting to his feet. 

Treena shook her head, patting his shoulder empathetically. “We’ll see you around, Pat,” she said as we headed out to the cool night. 

Once outside, the four of us burst into laughter. That served Patrick right after everything he did. Will was much more gracious than I would have been in his position. I looked at him with mock indignation, and we laughed again. 

“Hop on, Clark,” he said, motioning to his lap with his eyes. “We’ve got a bit of a walk back to the car, and I don’t think you’re going to make it in those silly heels of yours,” he teased. 

I looked down at my polka dot printed heels and tapped them together Wizard of Oz style. “Don’t lie, you love these shoes.” I grinned as I slid onto his lap again and snuggled against him. 

Correction, the night turned out to be perfect after all. 

---

A few days later, the morning sun was still low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the little patch of earth Will and I tended for weeks. The air was crisp, the scent of damp soil rising to greet me as I knelt beside our small garden bed. My fingers sifted through the dirt, searching for any signs of life. Mrs. Traynor had remarked on our experimental garden among her perfectly manicured lawn, but if she was displeased by it, she didn’t say anything. I think she was happy that Will was out of the house, doing something other than brooding. 

 

 I turned the earth, and my thoughts wandered. I’d applied to The London College of Fashion and The British Academy of Fashion Design. Each school had an extensive distance learning program—perfect for my current situation. I could picture it, living in the world of fabrics, sewing machines, and runway designs, all from the comfort of my home. I know that’s not the plan Will had for me. He wanted me in Paris somewhere, but I didn’t want to spend a second without him. I’d get out there eventually. I hoped we’d get out there living life boldly together. Either way, if I got accepted to one of the schools, my cohort wouldn’t begin until Spring. Both schools started shortly after the new years. That was four months away. 

 

In the meantime, I had to do something about money. I know Will doesn’t care if I worked or not. I still hadn’t claimed the money he left me, and it was sitting in a trust somewhere, waiting for me to take it. Will hadn’t mentioned it since the day we discussed his letter, and I didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up again. That money was meant as a parting gift. But Will was still here, very much alive. Somehow, it didn't feel right to accept that money. More than anything, I hated feeling like I was living off Will. He would never say it—never make me feel less—but I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about me being around so much without earning my keep. I needed to find my footing. And yet, with everything going on, the timing always seemed off. Still, I needed to get a job. 

As I pondered these thoughts, my heart leaped when I spotted it—a tiny green sprout poking up through the soil.

“Oh my God!” I whispered excitedly to myself. “It’s actually growing!” 

It wasn’t much, just a small, brave purple carrot pushing through the dirt, but it felt monumental. Our first sprout. I pulled off my gloves and gingerly plucked the little sprout from its bed like it was the most precious thing I’d ever seen. I held the carrot up, admiring its tiny, fragile form, and smiled. This was progress, at least. If I could make something grow here, surely I could manage more.

My steps were light as I carried the baby carrot back into the annex. I entered the kitchen, my smile cracking my face. Nathan was by the stove, preparing Will’s morning coffee, and Will was waiting, watching him intently from his place at the table.

“Look what I found,” I said, my voice full of excitement as I held up the little sprout for them to see.

Nathan turned and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you got something to grow! I was starting to think we were just watering dirt for the fun of it.”

Will gave me a small smile, his eyes bright with curiosity. “Well done, Clark. That’s one way to justify all those hours out there.”

I grinned, crossing over to him and holding the sprout closer. “ Well done to all of us. Isn’t it amazing? Our first veggie.”

Nathan glanced over, chuckling. “First of many, I hope. Maybe we’ll even get a salad out of it eventually. Then we can get Mr. T to eat something green.”

Will chuckled. “Clark will just hide them in my mashed potatoes.” 

I laughed, remembering the early days as Will’s carer. Without thinking, I fed him his vegetables like I was feeding Tom, hiding them in his food like he was a small child. A warmth enveloped me as I remembered that day fondly. 

Still smiling at the memory, I handed the carrot to Nathan, who placed it gently in a small dish. I took the opportunity to slip behind Will and ran my hands through his hair, teasing the unruly strands into something presentable. 

Nathan placed a steaming cup of coffee on the table, dropped a few cubes of ice in it, and added Will’s straw. I stirred the ice into the dark liquid until it melted and tested the contents, ensuring it wasn’t too hot, before giving Will a sip. 

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Mr. T. You too, Lou,” Nathan said as he spooned some scrambled eggs on a plate and set it in front of us. 

I sat down and began carefully feeding Will his breakfast. 

“A few months ago, I planned a trip home to visit my family in Australia. I thought… well, I thought I’d be freed up to go, but with everything that’s happened, obviously things have changed. I was going to cancel my trip, but my mum’s been looking forward to it, and I was wondering if—” 

“Go,” Will said, cutting him off. “I don’t want you missing out on holidays because of me. You had this trip planned months, Nathan. You should go.” 

“Definitely,” I added, looking at Will. “I’m here. So, if you’re worried about Will, I can take care of him.” 

“And for anything Clark can’t do, we can always hire a temp from the agency.” 

“Are you sure?” Nathan asked, his expression unsure. 

“Positive. Clark knows my routine. My parents aren’t far away, and we have the agency for backup. I want you to go and have a good time with your family. You, of all people, deserve it.” 

“Thank you, Mr. T. That means a lot to me.” 

“Of course,” Will said. 

I smiled, pushing my nerves aside. Will was right; I knew his routine like the back of my hand. There were still some things that I didn’t help with, but Will’s parents were around for those tasks. There was also the temp nurse. I’d do it all myself if he'd let me, but I respected Will’s privacy. He was starting to allow me into more of his private life bit by bit, and I was grateful for those small, intimate moments. We were still adjusting to our new life together, and I suspected that Nathan’s absence would make us grow even closer. 

Of course, I worried about my ability to properly care for him without Nathan’s professional touch, but it warmed my heart knowing that Will had confidence in my abilities. That’s why I loved him so much. He always saw my potential. 

“So, when is your trip?” Will asked. 

“Two weeks from today.” 

“Alright, I’ll let my mother know so we can make proper arrangements,” Will said with an affable smile. He glanced at me and winked. “I guess it’ll be just me and you, Clark. Think you’re up for it?” 

I squeezed his hand. “You bet.”

Chapter 16: Will

It was a quiet evening, just Lou and me like it had been since Nathan left four days earlier. She’d handled everything perfectly. Better than I could have hoped for, really. And yet, there was always that gnawing doubt in the back of my mind—when would I push her too far? When would the reality of my condition become too much for her? Lou said she was ready for this life, but I wouldn’t blame her if she decided it was too much. Part of me might even feel relieved if she told me she couldn’t do this anymore. 

With those thoughts swimming in my mind, I started to drift off in my chair, the rhythmic hum of the TV lulling me into a half-sleep, when I felt a familiar tingling at the base of my spine. My heart stuttered in my chest. No, not now. I’d been doing so well. I hadn’t had any major medical issues since August when I had PE. Somehow, I thought I had turned a corner. Sure, the constant pain was there, an apparition hanging over me day and night. But with Lou around, it was starting to become more bearable. Why was this happening now? This was our first real test. 

A powerful sensation crept up my body—the pressure, the tightness, my pulse quickened. I clenched my teeth and tried to call out for her, but my voice came out weak, strangled.

"Clark..."

She didn’t hear me at first. My vision started to blur around the edges; my head pounded like a very loud, unwanted drumline. Panic shot through me. My body felt like it was on fire; like I was trapped beneath the weight of something unbearable. 

"Clark," I gasped again, a little louder this time as the inferno raged through me. 

She turned, her eyes going wide as she saw me. She rushed to my side, and I could see the fear flash across her face. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by calm determination.

“It’s okay. I’ve got this,” she said, her voice steady even though I could see her hands trembling slightly. She dropped down beside me, checking my catheter first, her fingers working quickly, methodically.

I felt the world start to close in around me. My chest was tight, my skin damp with sweat. The pain was relentless, a pressure building behind my eyes.

“Bladder’s full,” she murmured, more to herself than to me. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I’d experienced this enough to know she was probably checking my leg bag. She ran out of the room and returned a few seconds later with a bedpan and emptied the bag into it. The relief was almost immediate, but it wasn’t enough. My heart still raced in my chest, and I could feel the sweat rolling down my face.

“Hang on, Will. I’m going to cool you off,” she said. She placed her cool hands on my face, and I closed my eyes, already feeling some release. 

The next thing I knew, she had a cool, damp cloth pressed against my forehead and the back of my neck. It felt like heaven—just enough to take the edge off the searing heat pulsing through me.

Lou stayed close, her presence a steady anchor as she checked me over, loosening my clothes, making sure nothing was pinching or causing irritation. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her hands moving with purpose.

My body slowly began to calm. The pain eased, and the pressure in my chest started to lift. I could breathe again.

Lou wiped the sweat from my forehead, her hand lingering there momentarily. “You’re okay,” she whispered, more to herself than me.

I slumped back in my chair, too weak to do anything.. She had handled it—just like Nathan would have. Hell, better than Nathan. And she didn’t panic. Not this time.

As the attack subsided, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me, but beneath it all, there was something else.

Relief.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d been holding on to that fear. Fear that something like this would happen while Nathan was away, fear that Lou wouldn’t be able to handle it. But she did. She handled it perfectly.

“I’m sorry…” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Sorry?” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Will, don’t be ridiculous. You have nothing to apologize for.”

I closed my eyes, trying to keep the guilt at bay. I hated this—hated that she had to deal with it, that she had to take care of me like this.

“You shouldn’t have to—”

“Stop,” she cut me off, her voice firm. “I’m here because I want to be, Will. I’m not going anywhere.”

I opened my eyes to look at her, and for a moment, the weight of everything—the AD attack, my condition, all the limitations we faced—seemed to fade away. All I could see was her. Her determination. Her love. Her absolute refusal to give up on me.

She gave me a small, reassuring smile. “I’ve got you,” she whispered.

And somehow, for the first time in a long time, I believed her.

Later that evening, she got me undressed and into my pajamas and helped me into bed. I watched her in awe as she lifted me onto the bed and positioned me under the duvet. She was bloody amazing. A valkyrie. I still couldn’t believe how well she handled herself earlier. If I had any lingering doubts about Lou, they were starting to disappear. 

“Can you adjust my pillows, please, Clark,” I asked softly. 

“Of course,” she said and fixed them just the way I liked them. 

As she leaned over me, I could smell the scent of her perfume. She smelled incredible as always, and I wanted very much to hold her in my arms. A hint of frustration seized me, but I was determined not to allow that to ruin the moment. 

“Thank you for earlier,” I said again. 

Her hands paused, and she sat down beside me. “Will, you never have to thank me for doing that. I’m just so glad I remembered what to do. I remember the first time this happened. I felt so helpless. So afraid and stupid. Everything was right in your book, but I still didn’t know what to do.” 

I smiled warmly at her. “You’d only just started. It could have happened to anyone.” 

She shrugged. “Maybe, but I still felt awful about it. I promised myself if something like that ever happened again, I would make sure I was ready. I hate that I had to put my resolve to the test, but I’m so glad I didn’t do anything to make it worse.” 

“You were amazing, Louisa,” I said, using her first name. “I mean it. I never saw anything more beautiful. I wasn’t even afraid.” 

“Really?” She gave me a dubious look. 

“Well, maybe a little. But I knew you could do it. I was right.” 

She took my dead hand and brought it to her lips, kissing my knuckle gently. “Thank you for believing in me.” 

“Always. I’ll always believe in you.” 

She unfolded my fingers, and I could feel her skin against my good thumb before she brought my hand to her face. With some concentration, I stroked her cheek with it, relishing in the feel of her, grateful for that small expanse of skin that had regained its sensation.  She closed her eyes, and I watched her face. My heart expanded in my chest, and for the first time I allowed myself to think the words that had been living in its chambers for months. I love you, Louisa Clark. 

I wanted to tell her, but I was still too much of a coward to say the words aloud. Instead, I smiled at her, hoping she could see the depth of my feelings reflected in my eyes. 

She laid my hand down beside me, positioning it on the bed. “I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m exhausted.” 

I chuckled. “I bet. We’ve had a long night.” 

She stood up, and I missed her already. She hadn’t even left the room. “When you’re done, come back here,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t stand the thought of you being so far away from me.” 

Louisa smiled, and it was as if the entire room grew brighter. “Are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

“Alright, I’ll be right back.” 

I watched her leave the room, my cheeks hurting from smiling. I didn’t think that would be possible after the night we had, but I couldn’t help myself. I thought about the last time Louisa and I had shared a bed during that rain storm. That had been one of the best experiences of my life. Better than skydiving or climbing up the side of some stupid mountain. I was just too stubborn to admit it. Now, I couldn’t see any reason why Louisa didn’t sleep beside me every night. 

“All clean,” Louisa said when she reentered the room several minutes later. She was wearing a long nightshirt. Her hair was freshly washed and hung damply around her shoulders. She held a jar of night cream in her hand, sat beside me on the bed, and began applying it to her skin. 

It smelled like fresh linen, light and clean. I watched as she rubbed it into the smooth skin of her legs and wished I could help her. Oh, Lou really didn’t know what I wanted to do with her right now, but I was grateful for the view. After rubbing the cream into her legs and arms, she applied it to her face before turning to look at me. 

“Your turn,” she said with a smile. 

“Me?” I lifted my brow. 

“Yes, everyone should have a good skincare routine. Even men.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. 

I grinned. “Okay. Do your worst.” 

Carefully, she dipped a finger into the jar and scooped out some cream. After that, she took my hand and massaged it into my skin, getting between my fingers. I couldn’t feel it, but I liked watching her work. After she finished that hand, she started on the next. This time, I could feel a slight pressure as she rubbed the moisturizer over my thumb and between my other fingers. It felt like heaven. 

When she was done with that, she worked on my arms, my shoulders, and finally, my face. I sighed when her hands caressed my face. Her touch was feather-light, gentle, life-giving. I sighed as she massaged my temples. When she was done, I felt a keen sense of loss. 

“All done,” she said softly. 

I stared at her for a moment, studying her face, capturing her essence for a future memory. “I want to kiss you now, Clark,” I said. 

She nodded softly, her eyes warm before she leaned down, her lips brushing against mine in the gentlest of kisses. The connection was light but intimate, her breath mingling with mine as her lips lingered briefly, delicate and full of promise.

The kiss wasn't rushed; it was tender, filled with unspoken emotions that made my heart stir in a way that words couldn't express.

We lay there for a moment, and I breathed her in, determined to make her part of me. She rested her head against my chest and held me close until we drifted asleep. 

Notes:

This chapter explored another AD attack for Will. I had to research what that would look and feel like. Of course, I will never know the extent of it, but I hope I captured the scene respectfully.

Also, thank you for those who have left kudos! It' is appreciated. If you're enjoying this story, feel free to leave a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts and interact with you.

Chapter 17: Lou

I woke up the next morning before Will. He was still in the same position as our last rotation, lying peacefully on his side of the bed. I pulled myself up and watched him sleep. Last night, I had been so afraid—afraid that I wouldn't know what to do, that I might make things worse, that I would lose him. Will’s AD was a serious condition. I learned that it could even be fatal if it’s not caught early enough. But even with all that fear inside me, I managed to help him and bring his pressure back down. In the quietness of the morning, I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself. I, Louisa Clark, had managed to do something right. 

Smiling, I sifted my hand through Will’s silky hair, trying not to wake him. He needed rest, and I knew how much AD attacks affected him. He put on a brave face for everyone, but last night, I could see the pain reflected in his eyes. As I drifted to sleep last night, I started to understand why he decided to go through with Switzerland. He didn’t live an easy life; he never would. But I hoped that my presence made it a little more bearable. 

His eyes fluttered open. “Morning,” he said with a gentle smile. 

“Good morning.” 

“How did you sleep?” 

I returned his smile. Of course, he would worry about how I slept. “Like a log,” I said. “How about you?” 

“It was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.” 

My heart soared. Hearing that made me feel warm all over. I loved every moment of sleeping next to him. We hadn’t slept beside each other since Mauritius, and I realized how much I missed being close to him. All night, I felt his skin next to mine, the warmth of his body, and his masculine scent mixed with sweat. I never want to leave his side. 

“I’m glad you slept well,” I said because I didn’t know what else to say. 

We stared at each other for several minutes, letting the morning sun wake us. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I couldn’t form the words, too afraid that I might scare him away. Right now, I had to be content with quiet moments like these. 

“I’m going to get your medication.” 

He nodded, closing his eyes again, the sweetest smile on his lips. My heart constricted, and I kissed his cheek before sliding out of bed. 

Without Nathan around, his entire morning routine was up to me. By now, I knew all of his medications by heart. I grabbed each bottle, shaking a pill or two in the palm of my hand, mindful of each dose. I filled his beaker with cold water and added a fresh straw before grabbing his blood pressure cuff. 

When I returned to the room, he was looking out the window. The sun hung in the sky, pale and distant. Fall was finally here, and the leaves were turning orange before our eyes. In a few short weeks, it would be Halloween. I cleared my throat, and he looked in my direction. I stepped into the room, and we began our day with the handful of pills that kept his body functioning. 

“I’ll call your dad so he can help you shower,” I said. His skin felt sticky with the sweat from the day before, and I could only imagine how uncomfortable that might feel on the areas of his body with sensation. 

He looked at me for a long time, his green eyes holding my gaze. “You can do it,” he said, his voice low. 

I swallowed hard, not believing my ears. Will had never allowed me in the bathroom with him before. “Okay,” I said. 

I helped him out of bed and into his power chair, the movements easy for me now. He moved into the main area of the annex, and I trailed behind him, my nerves a bit frayed. I was going to see Will Traynor completely naked. I’d given him sponge baths plenty of times, but this was different—intimate. 

“I’ll change into my swimsuit,” I said, my voice coming out like a nervous croak. 

Will smiled. I think he could sense my nerves.  “I’ll be right here waiting.” 

I left him in the living room while I changed into a plain blue one-piece—something completely sexless and economical. This was my first time showering him, and I wanted to keep it professional. I thought about what he said that night in Mauritius. How he would find it hard to see me naked and not be able to make love to me. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be trapped in a body that no longer seemed like my own, and I felt for him. But as much as I wanted to experience everything with Will, I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable. 

I returned to the living area in my plain suit with a nervous smile. 

Will studied me, his brow furrowing, and I wondered if I had made a mistake. Part of me wanted to dash back into my bedroom and throw on a robe, anything to cover myself up. 

“And here I thought I was going to get a chance to see you in that skimpy number you wore on our holiday.” His lips turned down into a mock pout, making me laugh. 

He knew what to say to put me at ease. “Maybe next time. I didn’t want to give you a heart attack on our first rodeo,” I teased. 

He chuckled. “You’re a wise woman, Louisa Clark,” he said as he made his way to the bathroom. 

Once inside, I transferred him from the power chair to the shower seat, ensuring he was secure. With infinite care, I positioned his arms and hands on the armrest and made sure his legs were in a comfortable position. After he was secure in his chair, I turned on the shower and tested the water. Even though Will didn't have feeling on most parts of his body, the hot water could still burn him. 

I turned around, and he gave me an encouraging look. I carefully undressed him, folding his t-shirt and setting it aside. I removed his boxers next, careful to keep my gaze on the spot above his navel. The heat from the shower and Will’s skin embraced me, and I swallowed hard. Don’t look, Lou. Don’t look. 

Tension thickened the misty air around us, and I tried to remain calm, but my skin tingled all over.  I stood up and pushed him under the running water, starting with safe areas like his hair. I poured shampoo into my hands and began working it in, massaging his scalp with my fingers. I love the feel of his hair between my fingers as I worked the shampoo into each strand. 

“That feels incredible, Clark,” Will murmured. 

“Well, I used to work at a hair salon after all,” I quipped. “Maybe I learned something after all.” 

We fell into a comfortable silence after that—neither of us was able to joke while Will sat naked as a blue jay in front of me. I gave him a perfunctory scrub, making sure to keep my hands light and efficient. I raised his arms and scrubbed underneath before moving to his chest and torso. I moved to his legs, taking extra care to wash his feet. I wondered if he thought I had some kind of foot fetish with the amount of time I spent washing between his toes, and I bit back a smile. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice interrupting my thoughts. 

I looked up. “Oh, nothing.” 

He raised a brow, and he looked so cute with his hair plastered to his head. “Come on, Clark. I’m the one sitting in a shower buck naked while having the most beautiful woman in the world wash me, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. The least you can do is tell me what’s so funny. Put me out of my misery.” 

I laughed and stood up. “I was wondering if you thought I had a foot fetish.” 

Silence hung between us for a few seconds before Will let out a hardy laugh. “The thought crossed my mind. You did spend quite a bit of time down there.” 

“Well, we can’t have you getting athletes' feet.” 

“No, we can’t have that.” 

For some reason, that broke some of the tension, and my shoulders loosened. From that moment on, I could finish showering Will with ease. My hands still shook when I scrubbed his nether areas, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought. He even told a few jokes to keep things from getting too awkward. 

When we were done, I dried him off, fluffing his hair before planting a chaste kiss on his lips. Then I finished the rest of his body before covering him with a blanket so I could get him dressed. All the while, I tried not to think about the slight stirring in his groin and wondered what that could possibly mean. 

After Will’s shower, I helped him dress and return to bed before I disappeared into my room again to change. I knew he wouldn’t want his parents involved, but I couldn’t let the day go by without telling them about his AD attack last night. Reluctantly, I gave Mr. Traynor a call. He answered on the third ring, and I explained what happened. 

“But he’s well now?” Mr. Traynor asked. 

“Yes, I think so. I checked his blood pressure this morning, and it seems normal. He’s taken all of his medication, and I have him resting in bed for the day.” 

“Good, good. Thank you, Louisa.” He paused for a moment. “I’m glad that Will has you with him.” 

“Oh, I, you’re welcome,” I said. 

“I’ll let Camilla know, and we’ll come by around lunchtime to visit with him.” 

“Okay, we’ll see you then.” 

After I hung up, I checked in on Will again. He was sleeping; his steady, even breathing filled the room. I slid the door closed and tidied up a bit, even though the annex was immaculate. Since becoming Will’s carer and whatever I was now, I gained an appreciation for a clean house. After completing my chores, I checked on our garden, noticing that the fall chill had taken effect, but I was excited to see what would come of it in the spring. 

If we make it until then . 

I pushed the intrusive thought away and returned inside to watch a movie.  As the film played on the screen, I texted Treena and updated her about Will’s condition.

Treena

Oh, Lou, I’m so sorry to hear that. But it sounds like you were able to keep things under control. 

Me

Yeah, I think so. He’s doing much better today. He’s resting right now. 

Treena

Maybe I’ll stop by and bring Tom. He’s been wanting to meet Auntie Lou’s special friend. 

I laughed. 

Me 

I think that would be good for Will. Tom has a way of making things exciting. 

Treena

Then it’s a date.

After messaging Treena, I grabbed my laptop and hopped on the quad message board to tell them about last night. I was inundated with encouraging messages, and congratulations for handling it so well. Feeling proud of myself, my smile stretched across my face. Maybe I really could do life with Will, even with all its complications. I knew in my heart that he and I could make something beautiful together.  

Mr. and Mrs. Traynor came by around lunchtime just as Mr. Traynor promised. I played hostess, serving a lunch of chicken and a light side salad. We sat around his bed while we ate. 

“Really, I’m alright, mum. I promise,” Will protested between bites of chicken. “Lou took care of me.” He looked at me, his eyes shining. “She’s all I need.” 

My cheeks warmed, and I knew they’d gone pink. “Maybe you’re mother’s right,” I said. “We could get the temporary nurse to come in and give you a check just to be sure.” 

“I don’t think that’s necessary. You took my blood pressure a few times today. I’m fine.” 

Mr. Traynor dabbed at the corner of his lips with his napkin. “If Will says he’s fine, then I think we should respect that.” 

Camilla rolled her eyes. “Of course you would say that.” 

I looked between the older couple, unsure what to say. I’d always sensed an underlying tension between them, but this was the first time they’d ever shown it quite so openly in front of me. I didn’t know what to say. I glanced at Will, and he seemed to shrug using his eyebrows. 

“Everything alright?” Will asked, breaking the tense silence. 

Camilla fidgeted with the cross around her neck, and her eyes darted to the side. Mr. Traynor cleared his throat. I watched them closely, feeling as if something big was about to happen. 

“Actually, no,” Mr. Traynor said at last. He looked at his wife before shifting his gaze back to Will. 

“Perhaps it would be best for Louisa to excuse herself,” she said. 

“No.” Will’s firm voice filled the room. “Whatever you have to share can be said in front of Clark. She’s part of the family.” 

I didn’t have much time to process his words or the implications before Mr. Traynor announced, " Your mother and I have decided to separate,” he said. “She and I have drifted apart over the past several years, even before your—even before all of this. We’ve tried to see it through for your sake, Will. But you and George are adults now. It would be cruel for your mother and I to continue pretending that everything is the same between us.” 

His words hung in the air. I couldn’t say that I was shocked. Will and Nathan had intimated that the Traynors were in an unhappy marriage. I immediately felt bad for Will and Georgina. I’d grown up with parents who adored each other. I didn’t know what it was like to see my parents in a loveless marriage. I reached out and took Will’s hand, squeezing it between mine. 

“Well, it’s about time you two were honest with each other,” Will said. 

My mouth fell open. I wasn’t expecting that. “Will…” I said in a stage whisper. 

“He’s right,” Mrs. Traynor said. “We have been fooling ourselves for quite some time now. But it seems like we aren’t fooling anyone else.” 

“We tried to make it work,” Mr. Traynor said. “But sometimes things run their course.” 

Oh. I’d never heard anyone speak about marriage so… clinically before. Okay, no, that wasn’t true. When I worked at the Buttered Bun, I heard all kinds of stories about marriage. Perhaps this felt different because I actually knew the couple. 

“We’ve decided to make it official after the holidays. You know your father and I are hosting our New Year celebration for our closest friends. We didn’t want to break tradition so suddenly,” Mrs. Traynor said. “Of course, you're both more than welcome to attend. You’re family, too, Louisa.” 

I nodded, unsure what to say. We’d been told about their divorce and received an invite to a holiday party all in one breath. 

“I’ll be moving out of the house,” Mr. Traynor said, “But Louisa, you may call me anytime you need anything.” 

“And I’ll still be just through the annex doors for any immediate needs,” Mrs. Traynor followed up. 

I nodded, glancing at Will. His features remained impassive. 

“Have you told George?” he asked. 

Mrs. Traynor shook her head. “Not yet. We planned on calling her tonight.” 

“I’m sure she’ll have a few words for you both.” 

“We hope we haven’t upset you too much, darling.” Mrs. Traynor continued to fiddle with her cross. 

“I’m not upset. I’m just glad it’s finally out in the open so we can all stop pretending,” Will said. 

I stood up. There wasn’t anything for me to add. This was family business, and despite Will’s announcement that I was part of the family, I felt out of my depth. I began collecting our plates and taking our dirty dishes to the kitchen. 

Chapter 18: Will

Lou settled beside me in bed, her body warm against mine. The low hum of the television filled the room, but I wasn’t really watching. My thoughts were elsewhere—stuck on the conversation with my parents earlier today, stuck on the reality of their decision to finally end their marriage.

For years, I’d watched their relationship unravel, seen the way they tiptoed around each other, both too proud to admit that things had long since fallen apart. My injury only delayed the inevitable, and now that I was out of immediate danger, they had no more reason to keep up the pretense.

I should’ve felt something, I suppose—sadness, regret, anger—but all I felt was relief. Relief that the charade was over, that I wouldn’t have to endure any more awkward family dinners or forced holiday cheer.

Lou shifted beside me, her body curling slightly as she reached for the remote to turn off the TV. The soft glow of the screen disappeared, leaving the room in darkness except for the faint light from the moon filtering through the curtains. I felt her hand brush against my chest, warm and gentle, a quiet presence that was both comforting and unnerving.

"Today was a long day," she murmured, her voice soft in the stillness of the night.

"Yeah," I replied, my thoughts still tangled in the weight of the day. "Could’ve been worse, I suppose."

“I'm sorry about your parents.” She kissed my shoulder, and my skin tingled from the sensation of her lips. Once again, I was grateful for small blessings. 

“Don't be. Their marriage hasn't been a real marriage in years.” 

She sat up. “But it's still sad. I'm sure they loved each other at one time.” 

I looked off to the side. “Maybe.”

“You don't think so?” 

I sighed. “Look, Clark, my parents aren't like yours. I didn't grow up with a noisy family full of birthday celebrations and cozy holidays with people who actually like each other.” 

“I wouldn't go that far.”

“You don't know how lucky you were to grow up with those experiences. And I hate that you've been separated from your family all these weeks. They're important to you, and you’re important to them.” 

“They'll come around.” 

“I know they will. They love you.” 

She stroked my cheek with her index finger. “And your parents love you in their own way. I saw how they were… before Switzerland. Maybe they'll try to work it out.” 

I tried to smile. She was so optimistic. It's one of the things I love about her. 

We fell into another comfortable silence. Lou’s hand moved over my chest, her fingers tracing small, idle patterns that sent an unfamiliar warmth through me. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation, trying to push away the thoughts that gnawed at the back of my mind. I didn't want to think about my parents anymore or their problems. Maybe they'll figure something out. Maybe they won't. 

Either way, I had something else on my mind. Before my parents dropped by, I was occupied with rather pleasant thoughts about Lou. I didn't want to think about it, but no matter how much I tried, one image kept resurfacing—the shower.

It wasn’t the first time Lou had helped me with personal care, but this time, it felt different. Even with the new level of intimacy between us, there was something charged that lingered in the air between us. The way her fingers had moved through my hair, how she had carefully washed me as if I were both strong and precious. It had been practical, necessary even, but there was a tenderness in her touch that stirred something inside me. I tried joking to ease the tension between us, but I’m still a man, damn it.

 Despite everything that had happened, despite the fact that most of my body didn’t work the way it should, I could still feel. I could still want. And at that moment, as the warm water cascaded over me and Lou’s hands moved across my skin, I wanted her. Not just physically, though that was certainly there, but emotionally—completely.

But I couldn’t give her that. Not the way she deserved. And it gutted me.

“Will?” Lou’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. Her hand stilled on my chest, and I could feel her gaze on me, searching, waiting for something.

I opened my eyes, turning my head slightly to meet hers. She looked beautiful in the dim light, her hair tousled from the day, her eyes soft and full of concern. She was always concerned—always worried about me. I hated that.

“Yeah?” I replied, my voice rougher than I intended.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, her fingers resuming gentle patterns on my chest. “Are you still thinking about your parents?”

I sighed. “It’s not that. I mean, it’s not just that.”

Lou shifted closer, her warmth seeping into me. “Then what is it?” she asked, her voice so full of genuine care that it almost hurt.

I swallowed hard, trying to find the words. How could I explain to her what I was feeling? How could I make her understand that the one thing I wanted—to be the man she deserved—was the one thing I could never give her?

“I keep thinking about the shower,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lou blinked, surprised. “The shower?”

“Today was just another reminder of what I can't give you.”

Her eyes widened. “That doesn't matter to me. There's so many other ways we can—”

“I know, Clark!” I couldn't hide my frustration. “That doesn't mean I don't think about… that I don't want to make love to you. But it's more than sex. There have been so many times when all I've wanted to do was hold you, brush your hair away from your face... caress your cheek. I can't do any of that, and it pains me to know that I never will.” I drew in an unsteady breath, forcing myself to say the words I hadn't been able to say until now. 

“I can't expect you to live like this. It's not fair.” 

Lou shook her head, her hand still on my chest. “I remember you said this to me before. But nothing's changed, Will Traynor. I'm not a child. I know what I want. That's you just as you are.” 

“You don't—” 

She placed her finger over my lips. “Yes, I do. None of that matters to me.” She grew quiet for a minute. “You know what happened to me in that maze all those years ago… It changed me. I mean, I like sex well enough, but I'd rather have moments like this, the two of us lying in bed, just being around each other.”

I heard the earnestness in Lou’s voice, and I believed she meant every word. That night in the maze had changed her, but she was still a beautiful, vibrant woman full of desires and needs. 

“That's a nice sentiment, Clark.” 

“But it's true!” 

“I believe you. I enjoy all of these moments, too. But God, Clark, you don't know how much I want to touch you. It's so damn frustrating.”

I stared at her from my position on my bed and watched her chew her lip. 

“I want that too…” she admitted softly. “Maybe there are things we can do to, you know.” She looked away, and I imagined her blushing in the dark. “ I, uh, saw what happened. You got—” 

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.” 

I thought about the utterly embarrassing attempts Alicia and I had tried back when I had hope that I could recover. Alicia had been so determined, so eager to make things work. But I couldn't. Physically, I still wasn't strong enough, and I couldn't make an erection last long enough for either of us to get any pleasure from it. That was part of the reason why I pushed her away. Like Lou, she deserves someone who could give her everything. 

“So, that's a good thing,” she said, and I couldn't ignore the hope in her voice. 

“I don't know…”

Her fingers brushed over my cheek, tender and reassuring. “Will, You have given me more than you think,” she murmured, lips pressing softly against my forehead. “We don’t have to rush anything. If it bothers you for me to help you in the shower, I don't have to anymore.” 

The thought made me immediately despondent. “I didn't say all that,” I muttered. 

She laughed softly. “Okay. We'll take it slow. And when we both feel comfortable, we can look at our options. I can put my new research skills to work.” 

I forced myself to smile at her attempt at levity. “Okay.” 

She nodded. “In the meantime, there's always kissing. That's something we are definitely good at.” 

This time, my laughter was genuine. “Yes, we are rather good at that.” 

She leaned down and pressed her lips against mine, and when our tongues touched, I felt the kiss in my soul. 

“Tell me something good, Clark,” I said when we broke apart. 

A heavy silence hung between us, and I held my breath in anticipation, waiting for the inevitable joy she always seemed to carry with her. I needed some of that joy tonight. 

“I love you,” she whispered against my lips, and my heart soared. 

I hadn't heard those words from her since Mauritius, and I realized I desperately needed to hear them, even if I wasn't ready to say them back. 

“That's very good.” And I smiled. 

---

I woke the next morning to the sound of soft humming. Louisa was bustling around the room, moving in that quiet way she always did when she didn’t want to disturb me. I watched her for a moment, my eyes half-closed, taking in the sight of her hair falling messily over her shoulders, her face soft in the early light. She moved like she belonged here, like this was where she was meant to be. And in some strange way, it felt like she was.

The weight of yesterday still lingered in the air, the conversation about my parents and the frustration I’d felt about my limitations, but waking up to Lou made things easier. It always did.

“You’re awake,” she said softly, noticing I’d been watching her.

“Yeah.” My voice came out rough like I’d been chewing on gravel in my sleep. “What time is it?”

“Early enough. I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“Well, I’m up now. Mind helping me into my chair?” 

A slight frown formed on those gorgeous, expressive brows of hers, and I could already tell that she was going to veto any attempt at getting out of bed. After everything that had happened with the AD attack and the emotional toll of my parents’ pending divorce, I should have anticipated her extra caution. 

“No chair today, Mr. Traynor. You need your rest.” 

I stared at her for a moment. I didn’t fight her on it, partly because I wasn’t in the mood to argue and partly because I knew she’d win.

I watched as she flitted around the room, bringing me a fresh glass of water, adjusting the pillows behind me, and ensuring I had everything I needed. Her fussing was both endearing and mildly irritating. But, for once, I decided to let it go.

“Clark,” I said as she moved to fluff the duvet again. “I’m fine.”

“I know you are, but I’m still in charge of your well-being until Nathan gets back.”

“Yes, Nurse Clark,” I muttered, suppressing a grin.

She rolled her eyes at me, but I could see the warmth in her smile. “Treena’s coming over with Tom later,” she said. “He’s been asking about meeting you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Tom wants to meet Auntie Lou’s special friend?”

She blushed, her hands pausing on the duvet. “That’s what he calls you. I guess he wants to know what all the fuss is about, and I thought we could use some cheering up around here.”

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the door. Lou turned, her brow furrowing. “They’re early,” she murmured, heading for the door. “I told Treena noon.”

I watched her go, curiosity piqued. The sound of familiar voices floated through the annex door a moment later, and I realized it wasn’t just Treena and Tom. Lou’s parents were here, too. I’d dictated a letter to them a few days ago using my dictation device, and I wondered if they had read it. I knew how important Lou’s family was to her, and it pained me knowing that I was the reason they were estranged. But that wasn’t my only motivation for writing them. I liked Lou’s parents, too. They welcomed me into their home and didn’t treat me like some invalid confined to a chair—they treated me like a man. That stayed with me long after Nathan packed me away and drove me home.

I wanted Lou’s parents to know that despite everything, I hadn’t set out to hurt their daughter. I knew the pain I caused wouldn’t be so easily forgotten, but I hoped they could see how much I care about Lou—how much we care for each other. And that I’m trying.

“Mum! Dad! What are you all doing here?” I heard the surprise in her voice. 

“Treena told us she was bringing Tom over to visit with you today, and we thought we’d come along. She told us that Will was feeling a bit under the weather, and I wanted to bring him this.” 

“Oh…” Lou sounded hesitant. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” 

“It’s a shepherd's pie. You can bring me back the dish when you’re done.” 

“Thank you, mum. I’ll, uh, just pop it in the fridge, and we can have it for dinner tonight.” 

“That’ll be good for him. He could use a little meat on those bones, and this will be sure to stick. Heat it for twenty minutes at one hundred and eighty degrees.” 

I heard some shuffling before Bernard’s voice came through. “So where is the lad? I hope it’s alright that we came along. I know you weren’t expecting us.” 

“He’s resting in his room, but he’ll be glad to see you.” 

Lou appeared in the doorway first, her expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. Behind her were her parents—Josie and Bernard, standing quietly, almost hesitantly. Treena followed closely, holding Tom’s hand, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, more intimate. There were no loud greetings or jokes, no easy camaraderie. It was more like we were all carefully navigating something fragile like we were testing whether this reunion would hold. Tom peeked out from behind Treena and gave me a shy wave, and I smiled. 

“Will, my parents are here to see you with Treena and Tom,” Lou said. 

“I heard. Welcome. Come in.” 

Josie took a hesitant step forward. “Are you sure? We didn’t know if we—” 

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing catching,” I assured her. 

“Oh, no, I meant, I wasn’t sure if we might cause you any trouble.” 

“He’s fine today, mum. We’re just being extra careful,” Lou said. 

Josie gave me a relieved smile and stepped further into the room. I looked between Lou’s family, taking in Bernard and Josie’s concerned but cautious expressions. Treena gave me a warm smile, and Tom regarded me with open curiosity. Silence hung between us, and I wanted to do something to break the ice. 

“Well, come in closer. I promise I don’t bite.” 

Everyone gave an awkward laugh, and that seemed to help. 

“We got your letter, Will,” I heard Josie say softly. Her voice, though warm, carried a weight of history—of estrangement and distance.

Relief washed over me. I wasn’t sure if they wanted to hear anything I had to say. 

“You didn’t tell me,” Lou said quietly, looking at me.

“Well, I thought it was best to keep it between your parents and me. I owed them an explanation… and an apology. I hurt you, Clark, and for that, I am deeply sorry. And because I hurt you, I know that I hurt your family by extension. I wanted them to know that I’ll do my best never to cause you that kind of pain again.”  

Lou blinked, and I could see the emotions swirling in her eyes—surprise, gratitude, maybe even a hint of relief. She glanced back at her parents, then at me again, her expression softening.

Josie stepped forward, her gaze meeting mine, and for the first time since they’d arrived, there was a faint smile on her lips. “We appreciate the letter,” she said, her voice gentle. “It meant a lot, Will.”

I nodded, feeling the tension in the room slowly ebb away. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Bernard cleared his throat softly, stepping closer. “We wanted to see for ourselves,” he said, his voice low but not unkind. “How you were doing. I’m sure Lou told you we had some strong feelings about what you planned to do to yourself. I can’t say that I will ever understand it, but we’re glad that you didn’t go through with it.” 

His words were simple, but the meaning behind them was clear. They weren’t just here for Lou—they were here to make amends, to rebuild something that had been fractured. 

“You’re in good company,” I said. “It seems that I caused quite the upset.” 

“Oh, it was more than that,” Josie said, stepping closer to the bed. “We counted you as part of the family. And us Clark’s don’t give up so easily. Besides, we saw how much you meant to Lou. That girl was a wreck without you.” 

I glanced at Lou again, and not for the first time, I felt the weight of how my decision impacted her. I still don’t think it was a selfish one—none of them would ever really understand how I feel—but I realize now how much it asked of her. More than I could have anticipated. 

“I know, Mrs. Clark,” I managed to say because part of me realized I was being scolded. But I didn’t mind. 

“Josie. Call me Josie.” She gave me a warm smile, and I knew that everything was going to be alright. 

That small gesture seemed to break the ice because the next minute I knew, the room broke out in loud Clark family conversation complete with laughter and friendly jabs. 

Tom stood by the edge of the bed, his wide eyes taking in everything from the equipment beside me to the control panel attached to the bed. He didn’t say much at first, just stared, his little fingers gripping the hem of his jumper. I glanced over at Lou, who was mid-conversation with her parents, and Treena, completely unaware that her nephew was sizing me up.

"Hey," Tom said, his voice quiet but bold enough to catch my attention.

I gave him a small nod. "Hey, yourself."

His gaze shifted between me and the bed, clearly fascinated by something. "Does it... go up and down?"

I raised an eyebrow, amused by the question. “It does. Want to see?”

Tom nodded eagerly, his curiosity now fully engaged. “Clark, Tom here wants to see how this thing works.” 

“Oh, do you now?” Lou said and pressed the button. The bed gave a soft whir as it adjusted slightly, raising the headrest. Tom’s eyes widened in amazement.

"Whoa," he whispered, inching closer, clearly fascinated by the mechanics.

"Cool, huh?" I said, watching his reaction. There was something refreshing about his straightforward interest—no pity, no awkwardness—just pure curiosity.

Tom grinned up at me, his wide eyes full of innocent curiosity. I couldn’t help but smile back at him—he was a little ball of energy, completely unbothered by my limitations. For him, I wasn’t some tragic figure; I was just “Auntie Lou’s friend. 

"Does it go really high?"

I chuckled. "Not high enough to reach the ceiling, but it’s good enough for me."

Treena, noticing the exchange, called over from the other side of the room. “Tom, don’t bother Mr. Traynor.”

“He’s fine,” I replied. "We’re just having a little engineering chat."

Tom’s grin widened, and he leaned closer as if we were sharing some secret. "Do you ever want to go super high?"

I shook my head, smirking. "Not that high. Maybe one day."

Tom’s eyes stayed on the bed, but then he looked up at me and, with the simple honesty only a child could muster, said, “You must be really brave.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the statement. Brave wasn’t exactly how I felt most days. But I didn’t correct him.

“Sometimes,” I replied, watching him nod, completely satisfied with that answer.

I watched Tom lean closer, his small fingers tracing the edge of the bed frame; a familiar pang hit me. I wasn’t sure what surprised me more—the fact that I liked this kid immediately or the fact that he stirred something in me I’d long buried. A sense of loss, of what could never be. Lou had mentioned wanting kids someday, in that carefree way she had about her future. And while I couldn’t even begin to picture that life, meeting Tom made me think about it, just for a second. What it would be like to have a family of my own. I quickly pushed the thought away. That was something I’d given up a long time ago, but lying here now, with this kid looking at me like I could do anything… it stung.

Lou’s voice cut through the chatter, her tone filled with warmth as she looked over at us. “Tom, why don’t you tell Will about school? I’m sure he’d love to hear all about it.”

Tom glanced at me, then back at Lou, before launching into a detailed story about his latest adventure at school. I half-listened, glancing at Lou now and then, feeling the warmth of her presence in the room. She was right; even when thinking about everything I couldn’t do, I felt a bit more cheerful when her family was around. 

Chapter 19: Lou

The room buzzed with the warm chatter of my family. Tom had finally settled down after Will showed him how his bed worked, and I could see the curiosity brimming in his wide, innocent eyes. He sat at the foot of the bed, swinging his little legs back and forth as if the weight of the world didn’t yet rest on his small shoulders.

“So, Tom,” I said, catching his attention, “what’s this I hear about your Halloween costume?”

His face lit up like a jack-o-lantern. “Oh! I’m gonna be Batman! But not just any Batman—Batman with the cool armor, from Batman v Superman !” He said it with the kind of conviction only a six-year-old could muster, as if being Batman for the night was the most important job in the world.

I chuckled, glancing over at Will to see his reaction. His eyes were soft and humored. He was paying close attention, the kind of attention that made me love him even more.

“Sounds brilliant,” Will said, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Batman’s a solid choice. You’ll need some serious muscle to pull off that armor, though.”

Tom puffed out his chest. “I’ve been working on it,” he declared, flexing a nonexistent bicep. Everyone laughed, the tension from earlier conversations dissolving into something lighter, more familiar.

Then Tom's face grew serious as if he had the most important question in the world to ask. “Auntie Lou? Mr. Traynor?” His eyes darted between us. “Will you come trick-or-treating with me?”

The room quieted for a moment. I hesitated, feeling a sudden pang of worry. Halloween? Will had barely ventured out recently. Could he handle all those stares, all those people in costumes? But then I saw him out of the corner of my eye—Will wasn’t hesitating at all.

“Of course we will,” he said without missing a beat. His voice was strong, certain. “And please call me Will. Mr. Traynor is my father.” 

I blinked in surprise. “Will... Are you sure?”

He gave me that look—the one that said he’d made up his mind and nothing I said would change it. “Clark,” he said, grinning at me, “what kind of Batman would Tom be without his backup team?”

Tom clapped his hands together, his excitement infectious. “You can be Robin!” he exclaimed, looking at me, “and Mr. Tray—Will can be… uh, Alfred! No, wait, you can be Batgirl, Auntie Lou!”

I laughed, though my heart still fluttered with unease. “Batgirl, huh? I think I can manage that.”

Will’s eyes twinkled. “Looks like we’re going trick-or-treating, Clark.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t have to do this, but then I saw the joy in his face, the eagerness to be part of something—something that wasn’t just about him. It was about Tom, about us, about being normal for a change. Sometimes, being "normal" was an adventure in itself. 

After my parents' surprise visit, I started to hear more from my mother. She called me the next day to “catch up,” hinting that I could come back home. I thought about my room, being close to my grandad and family again, but I was happier living with Will. We had a routine, and I didn't want to break that. Besides, I couldn't leave while Nathan was still on Holiday. Will needed me. 

“Well, what are you doing for work?” she asked me one day. 

We spoke on the phone while Will was in the other room watching a movie—another French one with subtitles. 

“I've been looking for something, but Dad was right; there are no jobs around here. I gave my resume to the owner of the new cafe by the castle, but they aren't looking for anyone new just yet. They said they'd hold on to it, though. So, that's promising.” 

She grew quiet for a moment. “But you can't keep living off Will. If you're not his carer anymore, then what does that mean? You're shacking up?”

My face warmed even though she couldn't see me. “It's more than that, Mum. Will and I… well, we haven't called it anything, but it's more than ‘shacking up.’ God, you make it sound so dirty.” 

“Well, if he's not going to put a ring on your finger… you and Patrick were together seven years before you moved in together.”

I barked out a laugh. “Right. His exact words were, ‘We’ve been dating long enough.’ It wasn't exactly romantic. Anyway, I don't want to talk about Patrick. How’s Grandad doing?” I asked, eager to change the subject. 

“Your grandad is just fine. I took him to the senior center the other day, and he painted a mug.” 

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I'll ask him to show it to me when I bring back your casserole dish.”

“He'll like that. Anyway, have I told you about our new neighbor…” 

I listened to Mum catch me up on all the latest neighborhood gossip for a few more minutes before I hung up to check on Will. He was half watching the French film while surfing the Internet using the voice assistance device.” 

“Cortona, close all windows,” Will said as I entered the room. 

I lifted a brow. “Don't want me catching you looking at French gay porn,” I teased. 

He chuckled with me. “I was actually watching regular French porn.”

“Right. I know how partial you are to French girls.” I grinned, not bothering to go into any detail about what he was doing on his computer. We both respected each other's privacy. 

I sat on the sofa and covered my legs with a blanket. It was getting closer to Halloween, and the weather got chilly rather dramatically. It was raining today, which meant we couldn't go outside. Our little garden was done for the season, but we looked forward to starting it back up again once spring came back around. 

“I heard you on the phone with your mother. How is she?”

“She's doing well. They have a new neighbor, and apparently, they have a dog that likes to dig holes in her garden.” 

“Maybe it'll find buried treasure.” 

“I don't know about that, but it did find the newspaper and chewed it up.” 

Will laughed. “I'm sure Bernard appreciated that.” 

I shrugged. “Hopefully, the neighbors will put him on a leash. Anyway, I'm going to stop by tomorrow to return the casserole dish. You should come with.” 

“I'd like that.” He paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful. 

“What? Do I have something in my face?” I touched my cheeks, wondering if I had a pimple or forgot to wipe sauce off my cheeks.” 

“Come here, Clark,” Will said, his voice quiet. 

I gave him a puzzled look, but I stood up anyway and moved in front of his chair. 

“Sit on my lap. I want to be close to you.” 

I sat without any hesitation. “I love being close to you. I'd sit here all day if you let me.” 

He smiled. “You can sit on my lap anytime you want. I promise, I won't mind.” 

My heart melted at his words. If only Mum knew. Will and I were more than just shacking up. Maybe people didn't need silly labels like “boyfriend” or “girlfriend.” It made us sound like we were in primaries. 

“Comfy,” I said, snuggling into him. I tested my forehead against the side of his face. 

“I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” he said without preamble. “But I heard some of your conversation with Josie, Clark. What we have is more than just shacking. You know that, right?” 

I lifted my head to look at him and nodded. “Of course I do.” 

He looked serious; his green eyes were dark and full of unspoken emotion. “I didn't know what to call us because you're more than just my carer or my girlfriend. So much more, Louisa.” 

Oh, he said my first name. My insides quivered. Will hardly use my first name.  This was important. 

“I don't think anyone will really understand what we share. Or how much you mean to me. But we can't go on this way.” 

Oh no, was he going to break up with me? Not that we are dating. Still… 

I drew in an unsteady breath, and my stomach did all kinds of strange things. “We can't?” I sounded incredulous. 

“Louisa Clark, will you be my girlfriend?” 

I don't know why, but I immediately burst into laughter. His question wasn't funny at all. I'd wanted to hear him ask me that for so long. I guess it was so unexpected that it was the only logical reaction for my frayed nerves. 

Will lifted his brow in apparent shock. “Well, that's the first time I've had a woman laugh at me when I've asked her to be my girl.” 

I shook my head, tears springing to my eyes. “I'm not laughing at you,” I said as they flowed freely down my cheeks. “I'm happy. Ecstatically, frighteningly, completely happy.” 

Before he could say anything else, I pressed my lips against his. 

I love kissing Will Traynor. Every time my lips touched his, it felt like a thrilling joy ride, a brand-new experience. Like I'm being kissed for the first time. It also didn't hurt that he was a bloody fantastic kisser. He kissed me like he was making love, exploring my mouth with delicious ease, taking his time with me. He always left me breathless and aching for more. 

I pulled back, planting tiny pecks across his face. 

“Well, is that a yes?” He teased. 

“Oh, a very enthusiastic, yes.” 

I couldn't express to Will how happy he made me. The significance of this moment washed over me at once. While I was happy just the way we were, somehow making our relationship official filled me with so much joy. 

We kissed again, and I sighed, resting my forehead against his. A comfortable silence passed between us before he spoke again. 

“You know, Clark, you don't have to worry about getting a job. That check is waiting for you at Michael's office.” 

I nodded. Somehow, I knew he was going to bring that up again. “I know.” 

“I don't want you to feel ashamed for using it. It's yours.” 

“I know,” I repeated. 

He sighed with a hint of frustration. “So, why haven't you used it?” 

I eased back, not ready to talk about something so serious after agreeing to be his girlfriend, but I knew Will wouldn’t be distracted. 

“Actually, I plan to use it very soon.” 

He lifted a brow, waiting for me to continue. 

“I've given your letter a lot of thought. And while I'm not interested in jet-setting around the world just yet, I do want to go back to school. I applied for the London School of Fashion and The British Institute of Fashion. If I'm accepted into either one of those schools, I'll be starting in January. I figure the money could go toward any supplies I'll need or trips into London.” 

“Clark, that's bloody fantastic!” Will said, his face full of happiness. “You don't know how happy that makes me to know that you're going to follow your dreams. I was afraid I was holding you back.” 

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Never! You could never hold me back, Will Traynor. Because of you, I found the motivation to return to school, and you've also given me the means to do it. It's the best gift anyone has ever given me.” 

He gave me the most beautiful smile. “That makes me feel so damn good, Clark. I'm happy I could do that for you. Whatever you need, say the word, and it's yours.” 

“You. I need you, Will Traynor.” 

The corner of his lip pulled up into a half smile. “I'm all yours. For as long as you want me.” 

Forever, I thought. I want you forever, Will Traynor. 

 

---

Later that evening, during dinner, we talked a little more about my plans, and I could see that Will was just as excited as me. Maybe even more. I know he doesn't want to burden me, but he could never be a burden. I wish Will understood that love doesn't always have to be about sacrifices. Love is a choice, and I'm choosing to stand beside him. 

Eventually we will get to a place where we can see the world, but for now our life is a bit more self contained, and there is nothing wrong with that. 

“I also applied to a few jobs,” I said as I fed him a piece of baked salmon. 

He chewed carefully, his expression thoughtful. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. The new cafe at the castle. But they don't need anyone right now. I also tried the Blue Boar. Theo, he's the owner; he said he'd call me if he needs someone to pick up shifts.” 

I never minded working. I enjoyed working and accomplishing tasks. It made me feel useful. I wasn't used to sitting around, spending my days doing nothing. Now that things were stable with Will, it was time for me to get back out there and earn my keep. 

Will frowned. “But what about school? Will you be able to manage a full class load and work?” 

“I haven't been accepted yet.” 

“You will be.” 

“Well, it'll only be part-time. I think I can manage.” 

“Alright, but if it starts interfering with your school work, promise me you won't let it, Clark.”

“I promise.”

After dinner, Will suggested we grab a bottle of wine from his parents to “celebrate” our new relationship status. I sat on his lap, giggling like a teenager as we sneaked over to his Parent's side of the house to nick a bottle from the kitchen wine rack. 

“Are you sure about this?” I asked in a loud stage whisper. 

Will chuckled. “Oh, come on, Clark, I never took you for a fraidy cat.” 

“I'm not! And also, I never thought I'd hear the words ‘fraidy cat’ from your lips.” 

“First time for everything.” 

He stopped in the kitchen, and I hopped off his lap in front of the wine holder. I read some of the names on the label to him. 

“Grabs the Château Margaux,” he said. 

I removed the bottle from the rack. “Oh, sounds posh.” 

“I think you'll like it,” he said as I slid back onto his lap. 

“Well, anything has to be better than Griffin’s boxed red blend.” 

Will chuckled. “You're a riot, Louisa Clark.” 

A few minutes later, we were back in the annex, and I poured us a glass of wine. 

“You know what would make this night even better?” 

I lifted a brow. 

“Candlelight and music.” 

“Oh! I think I saw some candles around here. The fancy kind with names like ‘Gardenias and Lace.”

 “Alright, you handle the candles, and I'll take care of the music.” 

I placed a hand on my hip. “Not that head-banger stuff you're fond of, I hope.” 

He gave me a mock glare. “Come on, what do you take me for? I was thinking more like Jay Z since we never did make it to his concert.” 

I laughed, remembering the night we went to the classical music concert together—me in my red dress, and he, like an even more dashing version of 007 in his suit. 

I found the candles in a cabinet near the kitchen and placed them around the room before lighting them. When I was done, I grabbed Will’s glass and placed a straw in it. 

“Those smell nice,” he said as I walked toward him. 

“They do. Did your mother pick them out?” 

A pained expression crossed his face before it disappeared, making me wonder if I had imagined it. 

“Alicia,” he said. 

“Oh.” I made myself smile. “Well, she has excellent taste in candles.” With that, I slid onto his lap and helped him sip his wine. “Now, how about that music you promised me.” 

His eyes sparkled as he commanded Alexa to play Bruce Chanel’s “Hey Baby.” 

“I've never heard this one before,” I said. 

“It's an American song. It's what they call an oldie.” 

“Oh, well, I guess it is fitting since you are eight years older than me.” 

“Funny girl,” Will said. “Give me another sip. Then kiss me.” 

Grinning, I held the straw to his lips, and when he was done, I gave him his kiss. 

Heeeyyy, heybaby

I want to know if you'll be my girl

Hey, hey baby

I want to know if you'll be my girl...

I listened to the lyrics, and my smile widened. “Oh, Will!” I said. 

“I thought you might like this one.” 

“I love it!” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck, careful not to spill our glasses of wine. 

The music filled the room, and Will navigated his chair so we could dance together. 

Chapter 20: Will

In the weeks that passed, Nathan returned from his holiday refreshed and ready to get me back into the routine. The morning of Halloween, he arrived at his usual time—early, when the sun was still casting soft golden light through the window. Lou headed to the market after breakfast, leaving me alone with Nathan to tackle my daily physio.

"Looking good, Mr. T," Nathan said, nodding as I went through my stretching routine. His tone was encouraging, though I knew this was far from anything that would have been considered 'good' in my old life.

"Feels the same to me," I said as he helped shift me through a series of gentle movements. "Nothing miraculous happening."

Nathan gave me a knowing smile. "Physio's not about miracles, mate. It's about maintaining what you've got, keeping the muscles from going slack."

I knew he was right, but lately, something had been gnawing at me—something that felt like a flicker of hope I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Maybe it was Lou’s presence or how she looked at me as if I was still capable of anything. I wasn’t sure, but the idea had started to take root. What if there were more I could do?

"Nathan, I’ve been thinking," I began, keeping my voice even as though I weren’t sure what I was about to say. "About stepping up the physio."

He stopped what he was doing, his brow furrowed. "You’re already pushing yourself as far as you can without—"

"Without much change, I know," I interrupted, meeting his gaze. "But I want to kick it up. And not just with the routine. I’ve been looking into specialists, people who might have more options."

Since that failed trip to Dignitas, something shifted inside me, changing my perspective. I thought the answer was clear back then—end it while I still had a semblance of control. But now, things felt… different. Lou’s been this light, pulling me back when I was ready to disappear into the darkness. I used to think there was no point in trying. What could I possibly regain? But lately, there has been this tiny voice in my head whispering that maybe there’s more to life than just enduring. Maybe I could push myself just enough to see what was possible. I don’t want to just survive; I want to see if something is still out there for me—for us. Maybe I could become someone who doesn’t rely on others for everything. Maybe I could give her more than just being cared for. I don't know where this will lead, but I promised Lou I would try. 

Nathan didn’t speak right away; his hands paused on my leg. 

"Maybe it’s pointless," I muttered, looking away. "But what if it’s not? What if there’s something—anything—that could improve things? I’m not talking about walking, Nathan. I know better than that. But if I could improve some mobility, maybe…"

"Maybe what?" he asked gently.

I exhaled sharply. "Maybe get a bit more control over my life. Lou and I... we're figuring things out. But there’s more to all this than I’ve let on to her." I hesitated, trying to find the right words. 

My skin warmed as I thought about what I was about to say. Before my accident, sex had been an easy thing for me—easy to talk about and easy to get. I wasn't a lothario, but I didn't have to put much effort into getting it. Since the accident, I haven't been intimate with a woman for obvious reasons. I wasn't sure it was still possible, but I wanted to try again with Lou. It might end in embarrassment, but I wanted to be hopeful. Maybe Lou’s eternal optimism was rubbing off on me. 

"I’m talking about sex, mate,” I said, shooting straight with him. “Things I haven’t even talked to Lou about."

Nathan’s expression softened with understanding. He nodded, setting down the equipment. "I get it, Mr. T. It’s not just about mobility, then."

I nodded, my throat tightening a little more than I expected. "Yeah."

Nathan sat still momentarily, processing what I had just shared; his usually carefree expression shifted to concern. I knew what he was thinking—that pushing myself might bring risks. But I needed to feel like I was doing something.

"You’ve done your research on this?" Nathan asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Yeah," I replied. "There’s a specialist in London, someone who’s worked with quadriplegics with a similar prognosis. They’ve succeeded in increasing functionality in areas where sensation still exists. It’s not a miracle cure or anything, but... well, it's a shot."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, his voice measured but supportive. "And you're thinking about going to see this person?"

"I’ve already made contact," I admitted. "It’s a private clinic—cutting-edge stuff. I haven’t told Clark yet, though. I want to be sure it’s worth it before getting her hopes up.” 

“Look, mate, Lou’s not my girl, but you know that's not important to her.”

I looked away. “Well, it's important to me,” I muttered. “And Clark's still a woman—a beautiful woman with needs. I'd like to at least try.” 

"Why keep it from her, then?" Nathan asked, folding his arms. "Lou’s been with you for months. Don’t you think she’d want to be part of this?"

I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Clark— I didn’t trust the possibility of this leading anywhere. "It’s not about her wanting to be part of it. It’s more about... managing expectations. For both of us. You’ve seen her, Nathan—how she looks at me like I could be capable of more than I am. I don’t want to shatter that hope if it turns out to be nothing."

Nathan exhaled through his nose, still watching me. "I get where you’re coming from, but if this is about something you want to do for you and Lou, then she deserves to know, don’t you think?"

"Eventually, yes," I agreed, feeling the weight of that truth settle in. "But first, I need to see what the specialists say. See if there’s even a possibility of any progress. If there is, I’ll tell her everything."

Nathan nodded slowly, seeming to understand. "Alright. Just make sure you don’t go through this alone. It’s a lot to put on yourself."

"I know," I said quietly. "But if there’s even the slightest chance this could change things—for me, for us—then I have to take it."

Nathan placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Then let’s make sure you’re ready for it, mate. Physio’s one thing, but if this specialist has a plan for more, you’ll want to be in the best shape you can be."

He didn’t need to say it outright, but I knew what he meant. This wasn’t just about physical improvement. It was about control,  not allowing any potential setbacks or disappointments to discourage me. While Lou was the initial motivator, I needed to do this for me. 

"Yeah," I replied, glancing toward the equipment in my training room. "Let’s kick it up a notch."

Nathan’s grin returned, full of that familiar determination. "That’s what I like to hear, Mr. T."

Lou returned home from the market shortly after Nathan and I finished our physio session. I'm not sure if it was all the hard work I put in that morning or something else, but the closer we got to the afternoon, I started to look forward to trick-or-treating with Tom later in the day. I still hate crowds, but with everyone in costume, I hoped the focus would be off me tonight. 

“What do you think, Mr. T,” Nathan asked, standing behind me in the full-length mirror. 

I wore a black suit, complete with a crisp white shirt and a sleek black tie. Nathan had gone all out with the details, even adding a black vest to complete the classic look. The suit was tailored just enough to fit comfortably while still giving off a polished air. Nathan stepped back, arms crossed with a look of approval.

“Looking pretty dapper, Mr.  T. Alfred Pennyworth would be impressed.” 

I grinned, studying myself in the mirror. I doubted anyone besides Tom and the rest of us would recognize my costume, but it felt good to get out of my usual casual wear.

“Okay, Will, you two have been in there long enough. I want to see!” She called from the next room. 

Still smiling, I rolled out from my bedroom into the living area of the annex, where Lou waited for me in her original bat girl costume. She'd been working on it for weeks, and this was my first time seeing the completed product. 

“Oh, Will, you look so handsome!” She squealed with her classic Lou exuberance. 

Somehow, that made me grin hard enough that my face was about to crack. “You think so?” 

“Oh, yes! I never considered Alfred sexy before, but you’ve changed my mind.” 

“Well, as long as you think so.” 

“So, what do you think of my spin on Batgirl?” Lou twirled in front of me, her familiar bumblebee tights in full display under a black skirt with a slight flare. She’d paired them with a snug, black, long-sleeve top adorned with a makeshift Bat symbol in bright yellow across her chest. A short black cape draped over her shoulders, and she’d even found a black headband with tiny, pointed ears.

I raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re bringing your own flair to Gotham. And you're wearing my favorite tights.” I wiggled my brow. 

She grinned, striking a mock-heroic pose. “Well, someone has to brighten up the Batcave. And I always thought Batgirl would look good with stripey legs.” 

“Come here, Ms. Gordon, and sit on Alfred’s lap.” 

She hurried over and sat down without any hesitation. 

“Now, give us a kiss.” 

“Uh, should I leave you two alone?” Nathan teased. 

“Don't worry, mate, tonight we’re keeping it PG.” 

Still sitting on my lap, Lou gave Nathan a quick once over. “And who are you supposed to be? That can't be your costume.”

He was still wearing his scrubs. 

Nathan chuckled. “Isn't it obvious? I'm a doctor.” 

We all laughed, and Lou rested her head against mine. “Oh, I thought you'd come trick-or-treating with us,” she said. “I told Treena you might come.” 

I glanced at her, knowing what she was on about. Somehow, she had gotten it in her mind that Nathan and Treena would make a good pair. 

Nathan shrugged. “Got invited to a fancy dress party at the last minute. Maybe next time. But I had fun the last time we hung out.” 

Lou clapped her hands. “Oh, good!” Then she frowned, “Maybe it's a good thing you can't make it. I don't think there's anyone in Batman who wears scrubs?” 

At that, we all laughed again.

---

“Faster, Will!” Tom’s excited voice filled the air as we zoomed down the street together. 

I suggested using my power chair as his “Batmobile.” Now we were flying down the sidewalk together while Lou and Treena, dressed as Robin complete with green tights, jogged beside us. 

“Hold on tight, Tom!” Treena called out. 

“I am, Mum. Will won't let me fall!” 

“No, I won't,” I assured him. 

“See. I’m Batman, and the Batmobile is always safe for Batman." 

We continued up and down the neighborhood for about another half hour, collecting candy from smiling neighbors. They filled his orange bucket with sugary sweets guaranteed to rot his teeth. 

“Oh, you look very handsome, young man.” An older woman complimented me while dropping a few pieces of candy in Tom’s pail. “Let me guess, James Bond.” 

I grinned, accepting the unexpected compliment.

“No, he's Alfred! Batman’s sidekick,” Tom answered for me. 

The woman chuckled. “Oh, well, he's a handsome Alfred.” Then she looked at me and said, “If I were a few decades younger!” and winked. 

I felt a blush creep across my neck. She couldn't be serious. Still, I played along. “I appreciate the compliment, but I'm spoken for.” I winked at Lou. Her smile was so wide that I could almost see all her teeth. 

The woman laughed. “Well, you're a lucky woman,” she told Lou. “A handsome lad like that, you better hold on to him!.”

Lou placed her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got a tight grip!”

 “No escaping for me, it seems.”

After stopping at one more house, where a disappointed Tom received an apple, we returned to the Clark's home. Tom immediately dumped his candy on the coffee table and meticulously counted each piece while discarding the less-than-desirables in the slush pile he later designated for sharing. 

“Oh, look at all this junk,” Josie said. “Better not let him eat it all, Treena, or you'll be headed to the dentist soon.” 

“I won't, Treena said, pausing her counting to answer her mum. 

“Oh, don't be a spoiled sport, Jo, it's Halloween.” 

“Right. But we don't want you getting belly aches, do we, Tom.” 

The boy looked up. “No, grandmum.” 

Satisfied with Tom’s answer, Josie offered us all tea before disappearing into the kitchen. Bernard followed behind her, leaving us with Grandad, Treena, and Tom. 

“Look, Will! I counted to fifty,” he said. 

“That's a lot of candy, mate. Good job tonight.” 

Tom giggled. “Some of it is disgusting, but there's some good stuff. And I even got some full-sized ones.” He held up a Crunchie bar. 

“I'm jealous,” I said. 

“You can have some!” He pointed to the slush pile, and I grinned at Lou. “Thank you. You're too kind.” 

Treena stood up, smoothing the skirt of her Robin costume. “Alright, Tom, it's time for your bath.” 

“But, Muuuum,” he protested. 

“Your candy will be here tomorrow. Now give your auntie Lou and Will a hug.” 

I watched Tom launch into Lou’s arms, hugging her tightly before turning to me. Like earlier in the night, when he saw me in my chair for the first time, it didn't seem to phase him. Instead, he climbed on my lap and gave me a hug, too, before sliding off. 

“Good night, Auntie Lou. Good night, Will,” he said as Treena ushered him upstairs, leaving us alone with a snoring Grandad. 

Lou came and sat on my lap. “Did you have fun tonight?” 

“Possibly too much.” 

Her eyes sparkled, and her lips curved. “Oh, yes, I saw all the ladies ogling you.” 

“Ha. Ha. Funny.” 

“Oh, no, it's true. No one can resist a man in a well-tailored suit.” She adjusted my tie and kissed me on the nose. 

“I love you,” I said without warning; the words slipped out before I realized I had said them. 

She paused, her lips hovering just inches from my face, her eyes wide with surprise. I hadn’t planned on saying it—not like this. It just... happened. But as they left my mouth, it felt right. I loved her. More than I had ever expected to love anyone again.

For a moment, fear gripped me. What if she felt trapped by it, by me? After all, I wasn’t the easiest person to be with, and my life wasn’t exactly what you’d call simple. But looking at her, sitting on my lap in her ridiculous bumblebee tights and makeshift Batgirl costume, I realized that this—this messy, imperfect life we were creating—was what I wanted.

It wasn’t about grand gestures or proving I could be the man I used to be. It was about her. Her laughter, her resilience, the way she saw the world and, somehow, still saw the best in me.

“Will…” she croaked, tears springing to her eyes. 

“I'm sorry it took so long for me to say it, Clark. But it’s true. I--” 

Before I could finish my thought, she crushed her lips to mine, and we kissed like it was our first and last time. 

“I love you, too,” she said, pulling back. 

“I know. Still can't figure out why, but I'm so very glad.” 

She gave me a watery smile. “I'm still trying to figure that out myself,” she teased before kissing me again. 

At that moment, Josie and Bernard returned to the living room. “Oi! No snogging in front of Grandad,” her voice, good-natured and warm, filled the room. 

Lou grinned, resting her forehead against mine, and I said, “Sorry, Josie, I couldn't resist.” 

Notes:

I didn't plan to post the Halloween chapter on Halloween, but it worked out! :D

Chapter 21: Lou

After the buzz of Halloween finally died down, I found myself thinking back to how much fun we had. Trick-or-treating with Tom, Will in his dashing Alfred suit, and the way he allowed me to position his arms around me so he could hold me close all night. I don't think I'll ever forget how his eyes twinkled like he was happy—truly happy—for the first time in a long time. It was one of those moments I wanted to bottle up and keep forever.

But now, as the days passed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting. Will seemed different, more driven. His usual physio sessions with Nathan had taken on a new intensity. I caught him gritting his teeth, pushing harder than usual. Out of concern, I asked to help out a few times. 

“You know, just in case Nathan goes on Holiday again. It'll be good for me to know these things,” I said one morning. 

“That might be a good idea, Mr. T,” Nathan agreed.  

Will looked up at me from his position on the floor. His eyes darted to the side before meeting mine again. 

“Alright,” he said, but I heard the reluctance in his voice. 

Still, I sat beside Nathan and asked, “What do I have to do?” 

Nathan positioned himself near Will, ready to guide me through the process. “Alright, Lou, the key is to keep the stretches smooth and controlled. We don’t want to force anything. Will’s got some specific areas we focus on—mainly his shoulders and arms.”

He shifted his attention to Will. “I know you’re used to me doing this, Mr. T, but I think Clark could be a solid backup. And honestly, with how hard you’ve been pushing lately, it’s not a bad idea for her to know the routine.”

Will let out a breath, nodding but clearly not thrilled. Nathan shot him a look, his voice softening. “I get it, mate. It’s not easy to let someone else help, but this could give you more flexibility. Lou’s been by your side for everything.”

He then turned back to me with a grin, guiding me through the movements. “So, Lou, you’ll want to support under his elbow like this and keep his wrist steady when you stretch out the arm. Watch for any tightness or discomfort, though Mr. T’s a bit too stubborn to admit it when there is.”

Will rolled his eyes at Nathan, but I could see a small smirk on his lips.

Nathan continued, “And remember, you’re not trying to push him through pain. It’s all about maintaining range of motion, keeping things limber.”

I nodded, licking my dry lips. My heart was pounding so hard that I was sure Will and Nathan could hear it beating through my chest. What if I accidentally hurt him? What if I do something that will somehow make things worse? 

“You don't have to be afraid, Clark. The one good thing that's come out of this is that I hardly feel any pain below my chest.” 

I stared at him. “How do you know I'm afraid?” 

“Oh, Clark, it's written all over your face. You should never play poker. I'd clean you out.” 

I laughed, and it seemed to ease some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. “But I saw you the other day. You looked like you were in pain.” 

“That's called neuropathic pain,” Nathan explained. “It can feel like a burning sensation, maybe some tingling or sharp pain.” 

“Is it like this all the time…?” 

“Not all the time,” Will said. “Don't worry about me, Clark. I've grown pretty used to it.” 

I looked at Will, and my heart went out to him. Why didn't I know this? How didn't I know he lived through this kind of pain? 

“We’ll be careful with Mr. T, Lou. And I'll be here to guide you.” 

“Okay,” I said, but my voice sounded small and unsure. 

After a few sessions, I got the hang of his routine. He still pushed himself hard, and it worried me. Nathan didn't seem too concerned, so I followed his instructions, even taking copious notes when Nathan suggested that I observe. 

Helping Will with his physio was something I’d never imagined doing when I first took on the job as his carer. But I wanted to know every part of Will. I imagined there might be a time when I'd have to care for him, and these were skills I needed. I was in this for the long haul. 

 I followed Nathan’s instructions carefully, ensuring I didn’t overextend Will’s muscles, but I could feel his body straining beneath my touch. He never complained, though. If anything, he seemed more determined than ever, pushing through his discomfort, eyes set on some distant goal that only he was privy to. 

“Am I hurting you? You'll tell me, right?” 

“I’m fine, Clark. This is nothing I can’t handle.”

Will wasn’t one to push himself without a reason. There was something he wasn’t telling me, and every time I looked into his eyes, I could see it. 

---

We were lying in bed reading one night, a fire burned in the fireplace, and a light snow dusted the windows. As I read Charles Dickens’ “Great Expectations” aloud, I gently ran my fingers through his hair as I snuggled close to him. 

Nights like these were my favorite, the two of us, in bed together. I still couldn't believe that three months ago, Will was set on ending his life in Switzerland. I tried to imagine what my life would be like if he hadn't gotten ill enough to delay it, and I always came up short. Every scenario feels bleak and colorless. I know I'm just counting down the time, waiting for that inevitable call from Dignitas informing Will of his new appointment.  I've wondered if his secretiveness has something to do with that, but then, why was he pushing himself so hard during physio? He didn't seem like a man preparing to die anymore. He seemed… alive. 

“‘I loved her against reason,’” I read aloud to Will, and his voice joined mine. “Against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be,” We finished the passage together, and I felt tears prick my eyes. 

I looked down at him, my vision a little blurred from unshed tears. “That was beautiful.”

He smiled at me. “I told you the book is better than that rubbish movie.”

I nodded. I had to agree. “Well, the book is always better than the movie, right?” 

“Always.”

I turned down the page, dog earing it in the way that Will hated, and placed the book on the nightstand beside our bed. The room was quiet, but for his gentle breathing and the cracking of firewood. I listened to the wind blowing outside and watched the snow fall in gentle flurries that disappeared as soon as they touched the ground. 

“I have something I need to tell you, Clark,” Will said, breaking the silence. 

I shifted my body so I could see him better. 

“I'm going to London in a few days. There are some things I need to take care of. But while I'm gone, I booked you, your mother, and Treena a suite at Aubrey Hall for that same week.” 

My lips parted. Will was going to London without me? He booked a suite for me at one of the poshest resorts in the country. My mind immediately raced with a dozen questions. Why was he going to London? Was this about Switzerland? Is something wrong? Why was he sending me away? 

“Why?” I croaked. “Why are you going to London?”

“I just have some old business I need to handle, and it has to be done in person.” 

“I'll come with you,” I said in a rush. 

“You don't want to be stuck in London while I handle business, Clark. I promise you, it's boring stuff. Nothing to worry about.” 

I narrowed my eyes. I didn't believe him. “I don't care if it's boring. I could tour around London and visit The London School of Fashion. You know, to get a feel for the place if I'm accepted.”

Will sighed. “You could, but you could also spend a week at a luxury estate with your mum and sister getting massages and facials or whatever else you women like to do.” 

I stared at him with the corner of my lips turned down, unable to laugh at his attempt to joke. 

“This isn't about Switzerland, is it?” I blurted. “You're not going to see Micheal to, to—” 

“No, Clark,” he interrupted me. “This isn't about Switzerland. I haven't heard from Dignitas, and when or if I do, you'll be the first to know. I'd never keep something like that from you.”

Tears sprang to my eyes, and before I could stop them, they spilled down my cheeks, hot and uncontrollable. 

“Oh, don't cry, Clark. Come here,” Will said, his voice gentle. “Lay your head on my chest.” 

I did. 

“Now take my arm and wrap it around you.” 

I did that, too. We grew quiet again as I continued to silently cry into his chest, soaking his T-shirt with my tears. I could hear his heart beating slow and steady. The rhythmic sound calmed me, and soon, my tears dried up. 

I lifted my head so I could look into his eyes. He was watching me with a look of concern on his face. “I'm sorry,” I said. 

“Never be sorry about that, Clark. I didn't mean to frighten you.” 

“It's just that I think about it all the time.” I sniffed before rubbing my nose. 

“I know. So do I. But if it makes you feel better, sometimes I hope they never call me back.”

“You do?” 

“Yes… especially because of moments like these when it's just us. For a second, I can almost forget. But I won't lie to you, Clark. On the bad days, when I'm in pain, or I'm too ill to even think about getting out of bed, I don't know if I can keep going.” 

I worried my lip. I didn't know what to say to that. I wished there was more I could do, but this wasn't something I could fix or laugh my way out of. I knew Will still had bad days and some really terrible days. Days when I am helpless to do nothing but watch him suffer. But I  hoped that even on those days, he wouldn't think about taking his life. I suppose I would never truly understand what his life was like. But I was grateful that he was being honest with me about it.

“But you do.”

“Yes, because you make things better, Clark. You make me believe that I can do this.” 

I tested my head against his chest again. “I know we can… together.” 

We grew quiet again, and I closed my eyes. My lips moved in a silent prayer to God, praying that he would give Will the strength to see this through.

Will was strong. He was the strongest person I knew. 

“Tell me about Aubrey Hall,” I said. 

“It's brilliant, Clark. I know you ladies will love it.”

I heard the excitement returning to his voice, and I tried to muster the same enthusiasm. I loved the idea of a getaway, but Will and I hadn't been apart from each other for longer than a day since August. 

I listened as he talked about the amenities and all the activities I could do while I was there. After a while, some of my hesitation disappeared, and I imagined myself sitting in a jacuzzi sipping champagne. 

“That sounds lovely, Will,” I said. 

“I want you to have a good time, Clark. I don't want you to spend a minute worrying about me. I'll be fine. Nathan will be with me on this trip, and if anything should happen, he’s been instructed to contact you immediately.” 

That made me feel a little better. 

I sat up again. “Well, it seems like you've got everything planned out.” 

“To the letter. I might have even outdone you this time.” 

I chuckled. “Doubtful. Do you have a Notebook?” 

“No,” he said with laughter in his voice. 

“Then I still hold the record for the most organized vacation planner.” 

Will grinned. “Come back down here,” he said, and I laid down next to him. “We're going to be just fine, Clark. I promise.” 

I wanted to believe him. 

 

Notes:

Aubrey Hall is a fictional version of Grantley Hall in England.

I started Nanowrimo today and will concentrate most of my writing efforts on my novel. However, I have already written 34 chapters (and the story is still far from over) of this story. To keep my lead, I will scale back and post one chapter weekly this month.

Chapter 22: Will

Nathan's sneakers squeaked against the floor echoed as we entered the private clinic in London. We’d been here for less than an hour, but it felt like a lifetime. The pristine, state-of-the-art waiting room was eerily quiet, filled with a sense of sterile calm that reminded me of every hospital I’d ever spent time in. But this place was different. It wasn’t just a place of routine checkups and maintenance—it was a place of possibilities, however faint they might be.

I glanced at Nathan as we sat side by side, waiting for the specialist to call me in. He gave me a nod, sensing the same thing I did. This was more than just another medical appointment. It was a step—albeit a tentative one—toward a future I’d long since written off.

I made the appointment after weeks of research. They specialized in advanced therapies for spinal cord injuries, and their latest work in Spinal Cord Stimulation (SCS) caught my attention. From what I understood, SCS wasn’t some magic fix—it wouldn’t have me walking out of here like the old me, and I knew better than to hope for miracles. But the way Nathan described it, there was a chance it could help with the pain, maybe even provide some sensation where there was none.

My gaze flicked to the far wall, where certificates and framed articles touted the clinic’s successes in neuropathic pain management. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe all the stories of breakthroughs and transformations, but it was hard not to feel some flicker of hope deep down despite myself.

The doors to the consultation room opened, and a nurse stepped out, calling my name. Nathan and I exchanged glances before I entered the room with Nathan close behind. 

Inside, the specialist greeted us with a calm smile. “Mr. Traynor, I’m Dr. Rawlings,” he said, extending his hand to Nathan and giving me a nod. “I understand you’re here to explore SCS as a potential treatment?”

I nodded. “Yes. From what I’ve read, it could help with my pain, but I’m more interested in how it might affect my functionality. I know it’s not a cure, but…”

Dr. Rawlings raised a hand, gesturing for me to relax. “You’re right in saying it’s not a cure, but SCS can sometimes help with more than just pain management. It’s designed to block pain signals, but some patients have reported improved sensation or motor function in areas that previously had none. Every injury is unique, and the results are different for everyone.”

I watched his face closely, weighing every word. He wasn’t selling me false hope, but he wasn’t shutting the door, either.

Dr. Rawlings tapped a medical file on his desk, and I assumed it was mine. “I've read your file, Mr. Traynor. I see that in the first year after your injuries, you were proactive with your treatment, and then suddenly you stopped, only doing the bare minimum to prevent from losing musculature.”

“Yes. You're right. During that first year, I had hope that I could ‘beat this’ and return to my old life without missing a beat. Clearly, I was wrong. Once I failed to see any significant improvements, I lost that hope. I sought second, third, and fourth opinions. They were all the same. I would never walk again. I would never have use of my arms or legs. It seemed like a hopeless cause.”

“I see…” He drew his thick gray brows together. “And what made you change your mind.” 

An image of Louisa came to mind. Louisa dancing on a tropical beach with the moonlight dusting her skin. Louisa standing by an open window as rain poured down from the sky. Louisa laughing at one of my jokes or with tears in her eyes. Always Louisa.” 

“I've…” I paused to gather my thoughts. “Gained a new perspective, Doctor.” 

“Three months ago, you were scheduled for an assisted suicide, Mr. Traynor. This is quite the turnaround.” 

“I know. Like I said, I'm not looking for a miracle. But I am looking for ways to improve my quality of life.” 

“That's good to hear. Our goal is to help our patients with the best care so they can live a life that is still meaningful.” 

“What’s the process for getting started? And how long before we know if it’s doing anything?” Nathan asked. He sat with his notebook open and a pen poised over the blank page, prepared to take notes. 

Dr. Rawlings leaned back in his chair and explained the process. “First, we’d do a trial period. It involves inserting temporary electrodes near the spinal cord, attached to an external device. You’d wear it for a few days—usually up to a week—to see if there’s any improvement in pain or sensation. If the trial is successful, we can discuss a permanent implant. The goal is to target the nerves most impacted by your injury to see if we can stimulate any response.”

A trial period. I felt a strange mix of relief and frustration. On one hand, it was an actual step closer to relief. On the other hand, it meant more waiting, testing, and not knowing if it would make any difference. But I knew I had to try. For Lou. For myself.

“And if there’s no improvement?” I asked, my voice low.

Dr. Rawlings didn’t sugarcoat it. “If the trial doesn’t show any progress, we’d discontinue it. But at the very least, you’d know you gave it a shot. And there’s a good chance it could help reduce your neuropathic pain, even if the sensation doesn’t improve.”

I looked at Nathan again, seeing the steady encouragement in his eyes. He wouldn’t push me into anything I didn’t want, but I could tell he thought it was worth a go. 

“I have a few questions,” Nathan said. He's already filled the page with notes. “I’ve been working with Mr. Traynor for over two years now. It's important that I understand the impacts of this treatment on my patient.” 

“Of course,” Doctor Rawlings said. “Many of our patients come to us with care teams. We want this to be as collaborative as possible.”

Dr. Rawlings shifted in his seat as Nathan continued to ask questions about the SCS trial. I let their conversation wash over me for a moment, my mind already skipping ahead to what this trial might mean. Would it give me something? Anything? Or was it just another dead end? 

“You mentioned before that you’ve been experiencing some neuropathic pain,” Dr. Rawlings said, directing the conversation back to me. “How are you managing it?”

The pain was something I’d been learning to live with. “I manage,” I muttered, trying not to sound dismissive. But the truth was, it had been worse lately. Like an electric shock shooting through the parts of me that could still feel.

Dr. Rawlings nodded, picking up on more than I wanted to admit. “And how are you feeling otherwise? Not just physically, but mentally?”

I felt a tightening in my chest, the automatic resistance that always came when someone tried to dig deeper into that part of my life. “I’m fine,” I said too quickly.

Nathan gave me a look. “He’s been having some rough days, Doctor. Not just the physical stuff. You know how it is—pain wears you down mentally, too.”

Dr. Rawlings nodded again. “That’s not uncommon for someone in your situation, Mr. Traynor. Depression and anxiety often come hand in hand with chronic conditions, especially when pain and limitations are involved. I think it might be time to consider a holistic approach, tackling both the physical and mental sides of what you’re dealing with.”

I could feel the resistance building inside of me, like a tight band around my chest. “I see. I wasn't aware we’d be discussing mental health.” 

Doctor Rawlings smiled. “Yes, many people walk through those doors focused on one aspect of our treatment here, but as previously mentioned, we are interested in providing each patient with the kind of care that will enhance their quality of life. That includes both physically and mentally. And while I understand where your interest lies, if I were to become part of your care team, I would also focus on your mental health.” 

I stared at him, feeling the weight of his words, but I wasn't sure his suggestion was necessary.

“I’ve always been a fan of a holistic approach. What do you recommend?” Nathan asked. 

“Well,” Dr. Rawlings began, “Alongside the SCS trial, we can explore some options to help with the mental toll. Trials can be stressful, and it won't be easy. We want to make sure that you have the right tools to help you through the process.  Have you tried any medications for anxiety or depression, Will?”

I shook my head. “I’ve always managed without.”

“But you’re struggling now,” he said gently. “There’s no shame in seeking help for this. I looked at your Hamilton Rating Scale, which Nathan administered as part of our intake. After review, I feel you're a good candidate for medication management. We could start you on a low dose of Lexapro, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. It’s been effective in helping patients manage both depression and anxiety, and it could also improve your overall quality of life. You might find that it helps you handle the pain and the stress that comes with it. It’s a slow process, but we’ll monitor how you’re feeling as we move forward.”

I stared at the floor, feeling Nathan’s eyes on me. It was a lot to take in—the trial, the potential for improvement, and now the suggestion of medication to help with the mental side of things. Lexapro. I’d heard of it, of course, but the idea of relying on a pill to keep me from drowning in all this felt… strange.

Still, I couldn’t deny the truth. Things had been hard, even with Lou in my life. Some days, I felt like I was hanging on by a thread, and if this could make that thread just a bit stronger, maybe it was worth a try.

“And it won't interfere with my current cocktail of daily medications?” 

“No. Although we will monitor you closely anytime we add different medications to your regimen for any side effects.” 

Dr. Rawlings glanced over at Nathan and then back at me, his voice taking on a tone that suggested we were getting into deeper waters. “Alongside the medication and the SCS trial, I think it’s also important for us to explore counseling or therapy as part of your treatment plan, Will.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a familiar resistance bubbling up. “Therapy? What good is talking about it going to do?”

My parents had tried to get me to “see someone,” especially after my suicide attempt. But I didn't and still don't see the point of talk therapy. It wasn't going to stop the pain or prevent me from dying of a common cold.

He smiled, not unkindly, but with the kind of understanding that only a seasoned professional could have. “Therapy isn’t just about talking, Will. It’s about finding ways to cope with the mental toll that your condition inevitably takes. The physical recovery is only part of the picture. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s no wonder you’re feeling the weight of it.”

Nathan chimed in, his tone more relaxed but still firm. “He’s right, Mr. T. You’ve been handling a hell of a lot on your own. Maybe it’s time to get some help managing the load.”

I wasn't sure how to respond. Therapy was something I’d always associated with people who couldn’t cope, and while I hadn’t exactly been thriving, I wasn’t ready to admit I needed to talk to a stranger about everything in my head.

“I don’t know…”

Dr. Rawlings nodded, sensing my hesitation. “I understand it might feel uncomfortable at first, but think of it as another tool in your toolbox—just like the physical therapy you do with Nathan. Therapy will give you strategies to deal with the stress, anxiety, and the emotional rollercoaster that comes with your condition.”

I sighed, my thumb ticked against my handrest. “And what does this therapy look like? Lying on a couch and spilling my guts?”

“It could look like that if that’s what helps,” he chuckled softly. “But it’s more likely to be practical, solution-focused therapy. We could start with cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), which helps you manage unhelpful thoughts or behaviors. It’s especially effective for people dealing with chronic pain and the feelings of helplessness that come with it.”

Nathan nodded. “And with telehealth, you won’t even have to leave the annex for it. You can do it all from home, on your terms.”

I was quiet for a long moment. Therapy, Lexapro, and now this new SCS trial. I knew this clinic was comprehensive, but I wasn't aware that I would have to do the rest of it.

Before I made any decisions to move forward, there was one thing that had been at the back of my mind this whole time, which caused me to do my research in the first place. 

I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “And, uh… what about sexual function? Could SCS combined with other forms of therapy improve anything there?”

Nathan shot me a brief look of understanding but stayed silent, letting me ask the question I’d kept locked away for far too long.

Dr. Rawlings adjusted his glasses, clearly having anticipated the question. “That’s a fair question, Will. With spinal cord injuries, regaining sexual function varies from patient to patient. The SCS can improve sensation and muscle control, and for some individuals, this has translated into better sexual experiences. But it’s not a guarantee. It’s important to manage expectations.”

I nodded, feeling a mixture of hope and frustration. Of course, it couldn’t be as simple as flipping a switch. “So, there’s a chance it could help?”

“Yes,” Dr. Rawlings said carefully. “There’s a chance. Some patients have reported improved erectile function and increased sensitivity in areas where there was still some nerve activity. But it’s worth remembering that everybody responds differently, and it might take time before you notice any changes.”

He paused for a moment, his voice softening. “I know this part of your life is important, Will. It’s natural to want to regain that control. But I would encourage you to focus on the overall benefits this treatment could offer. Physical autonomy, improved movement—those are life-changing, too. But sexual function is certainly something we can monitor as part of your progress.”

I nodded, absorbing everything he said. 

Dr. Rawlings paused before speaking again. "However, If you're specifically concerned about erectile function, we do have medications that can help with that—PDE5 inhibitors like Sildenafil, Tadalafil. These won’t address the underlying nerve issues, but they do help improve blood flow and, in some cases, can work in tandem with the stimulation provided by the SCS."

I nodded, familiar with the name. Viagra. Not exactly something I ever thought I’d need, but here we were. Still, the fact that it was an option gave me a small measure of control, a step toward reclaiming something I thought I'd lost forever.

“What do you think, Mr. T?” Nathan asked, his expression encouraging. 

It all sounded promising. Although I wasn't keen on psychotherapy or medication, I was interested in improving my quality of life. For two and a half years, I believed that I had no control over anything anymore. I felt like I was a prisoner in my own body, a slave to my limitations. I wasn't expecting to get out of my chair and start walking again, but what I wanted—needed was to feel like I had some control over my life. Maybe this was the roadmap to getting some of that control back. 

I wasn't accepting my lot in life; I was trying to create a new path so I could continue on my own terms. 

“I’ll do the trial,” I said after a pause, feeling the words settle in my chest. “Let’s see if this thing can do more than I think.”

Notes:

As you can see, I had Will visit a specialist. One thing I noticed in the book and movie was very little focus on mental health as part of Will's treatment. I believe that he was a man operating out of depression. So I want to explore a different path. Of course, I'm not a medical doctor and I did standard research on SCS. I am a clinical social worker, so I have some knowledge on the benefits of therapy. I thought it's important to include in my story.

Chapter 23: Lou

The moment we pulled into the sweeping driveway of Aubrey Hall, my jaw nearly dropped. I mean, I knew it would be fancy—Will had insisted it was a “proper treat”—but this was something else. The grandeur of the estate made me feel like I’d walked straight into one of those period dramas he liked to tease me about. The lavish stone exterior and perfectly manicured gardens felt worlds away from the little family home I'd grown up in with my box room and too-thin walls. 

“Oh my goodness,” Mum whispered beside me, her eyes wide as she took in the sprawling grounds. “Louisa, did you know it would be like this?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted, though my heart was racing with excitement. I glanced at Treena, who was trying to play it cool, but I could see the awe in her eyes, too. 

We piled out of the car, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at everything—the ivy curling up the stone, the glittering windows that promised even more decadence inside. I wanted to enjoy it, really I did, but a part of me wished I was on holiday with Will. 

Treena let out a low whistle beside me. “Wow. Will sure knows how to pick a place, doesn’t he?”

Mum was already fretting about the cost. “I hope you’re sure this is alright, Louisa. I mean, I can’t even begin to imagine how much a place like this costs.”

“It’s fine, Mum,” I reassured her, though my heart gave a little pang as I added the pounds in my head. 

I tried to hide my nerves as we entered the main hall. The marble floors gleamed beneath the enormous crystal chandeliers, casting sparkling light across the ornate ceilings. It felt almost too fancy for someone like me. Still, the anticipation of what was to come—massages, facials, maybe even a dip in the pool—bubbled under the surface, trying to break through the heaviness in my chest.

“You deserve this, Lou,” Will had said the night before we departed on our separate trips. And I knew he meant it, but I couldn’t help missing him already.

Treena nudged me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You alright, Lou? You’ve got that faraway look.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, glancing around at our lavish surroundings. “Just... overwhelmed, I guess.”

I thought Mauritius was amazing, but this was something else. 

“Clark family?” Our hostess, a tall, willowy, blonde-haired woman, greeted us. 

“Yes! That's us. The Clarks.” 

She smiled. “Welcome to Grantley Hall. We're delighted you could join us.” 

“Ha! Not delighted as me,” I said, speaking too loudly. 

The woman's smile slipped a fraction as she guided us to the premier check-in before wandering off to greet the next guest. 

Mum eyes the room keys the staff handed us, her face lighting up with excitement. “Well, let’s get to the room and see what it’s like. I bet it’s as fancy as the rest of this place!”

The suite didn’t disappoint. There were three plush beds with silken sheets. I had a separate room with a deluxe king-sized bed and a private balcony overlooking the gardens. The bathroom was so big I could practically swim in the tub. Treena had already thrown herself onto one of the beds with a contented sigh.

“This is the life,” she muttered, stretching out like a cat. “I could get used to this.”

“Good thing he booked this around fall holiday,” I said, smiling at them. 

I was happy to have this experience with my mum and sister, but I wondered what Will would think of the room. I could practically hear his sarcastic remarks about the over-the-top decor. 

Mum must have noticed my quietness because she sat beside me on the bed, her eyes full of concern. “You’re thinking about Will, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “I just... I wish he were here. It’s hard to enjoy it when I know he’s in London for some boring business trip.”

A trip that I still had no details about. Neither he nor Nathan would talk about it to me. Obviously, Will wanted to keep it private, and I had to respect that. Still, I wondered what he was doing and if he was alright. 

“Oh, love, he’ll be fine,” she said, rubbing my arm. “Nathan’s with him. Besides, this is your time to relax. Will wanted you to have this, to enjoy it. He wouldn’t want you worrying about him.”

“I know,” I whispered, glancing out the window at the sunlit gardens. “I suppose I should start enjoying it.” 

“That's the spirit!” Treena said, fanning herself with the room service menu. She stopped momentarily to read it. “Bloody hell, a bottle of water here is fifteen pounds.” 

“Katrina Clark, watch your mouth!” Mum said.

“You're kidding.” I scooted toward and snatched the menu out of her hand. 

“She's right! Fifteen quid for water when it's free in the bathroom.” I laughed. 

“I tell you, they won't get a single shilling out of me,” Mum said. 

“It's all paid for. Will saw to that.” 

Mum’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” 

I dug into my purse and fished out the black Amex card he handed me. “I'm an authorized user.” 

“Oh, a black card. You really know how to pick ‘em, Lou,” Treena said. “Maybe a little of your luck will rub off on me. Who'd have thought Louisa Clark found a millionaire boyfriend who adores her.” 

“I always liked Will Traynor,” Mum said, smiling. 

Will made sure to fill my diary with new experiences for each day I would spend at Aubrey Hall. After marveling at our rooms and complaining about the price of water, we had just enough time to unpack before we were scheduled for our “Prestige” wine-tasting experience. Treena, Mum, and I pretended to have posh accents on our way to the Brook Room, where we were greeted by another host and their Head Sommelier, Marco De Augustine. 

“Welcome, welcome, Clarks,” Marco greeted us.  

We were directed to sit down while he explained our package details—six different wines from around the world, a tour of their famous wine cellar, and a complimentary charcuterie board. 

At that, Mum lightly dug her elbow into my side and whispered,” I don't even know what that is, but it sounds lovely.” 

“Oh, and I almost forgot,” Marco added. “Mr. Traynor has added Cornish salted Exmoor caviar over ice and fresh blinis & crème fraiche.” 

“Oh, sounds posh,” I said. 

I've never had caviar before and wasn't sure if I'd like fish eggs. To be honest, it sounded disgusting. 

After Marco explained our wine-tasting experience, we were given a brief lesson on wine tasting. I remembered the proper etiquette when I took Will on one of our adventures. Naturally, I thought of him and was hit with another wave of longing. I glanced at my watch. He promised to call each night at bedtime so we could say goodnight. Funny, even with all the exciting things planned, I was looking forward to that the most. 

We tried wines from France, Italy, Spain, Greece, and California. I think Mum, Treena, and I forgot to spit; by the time we tried our last bottle, we were all giggling like fools. 

“A charcuterie board,” Mum said while slicing some brie. “I just thought it was called a cheese tray. I'll have to make one of these at home one day.” 

“It is called a cheese tray, Mum. You know the insanely rich have to fancy things up a bit to confuse us peasants,” Treena said, earning a laugh from us. 

While we devoured our spread of exotic meats and cheeses, one of the hosts brought out a tray of caviar. 

“Oh, look, it's the uh, the uh, bills and cream freshers,” I said, completely butchering the name. 

“Fresh blinis & crème fraiche,” the host corrected. “Please try some. Our world-renowned chef, Pietro Boselli, prepared them for your pleasure. I hear they are delightful.” 

I studied the tray of delicate pastry puffs topped with decadent cream and small black fish eggs on top. They looked pretty enough. Treena reached for one first, then Mum and I followed her lead. 

“YOLO,” she said before taking a bite. 

I watched her face, trying to detect any signs of disgust. First, a slight frown appeared at her brow, her eyes grew wide, and then her features went slack as her eyes rolled back into her head. 

“Oh, my God,” she said around a mouth full. 

I glanced at Mum before I shoved one into my mouth with a cautious “YOLO.” 

It was amazing, light and flavorful. I could hardly taste the fish eggs. “Oh, my, that's got to be the best thing I've ever had in my mouth,” I said. 

Treena snort-laughed, and my Mum actually blushed. 

After polishing off the rest of our food, we took a tour of the wine seller and returned to our suite with a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine and full bellies. 

Later that evening, we ate at one of the three Michelin Star restaurants on site, and I ordered the Wagyu medium rare, just as Will suggested. I still don't know how to explain it, but the moment the stake touched my tongue, its buttery texture practically melted in my mouth. My entire body went boneless, and I slumped in my seat. 

“Lou, are you alright?” Mum asked in a panic. 

I shook my head. “Yes, I'm fine.” 

“You look like you just had the best orgasm of your life,” Treena said, and Mum shushed her loudly. 

“Not at the dinner table, Treen.” 

I laughed. “I, I think that was better than a—” I glanced at Mum. “I think it was better than that.”

Not that I had any real experience in that department. I think in the entire seven years I dated Patrick, I might have orgasmed a total of two times. Maybe.

“Really?” Treena looked skeptical. 

How could I explain what it was like to eat a tender, perfectly seasoned cloud? Even that description paled in comparison. This was one of those experiences that you couldn't be told about. 

I sliced her a small piece since the cut wasn't large and watched in fascination as she ate it. 

“Holy—” she glanced at Mum. “God, Lou, you were right. Definitely better.” 

Curious about the fuss, Mum wanted a bite, and by the end of it, we all came to the consensus that it was the second-best thing next to an orgasm. 

After dinner, Treena and I went for cocktails at the bar while Mum returned to our room, too tired to do anything else. 

“So, Treen,” I said after my second cosmopolitan. “Has Nathan called you yet? I saw the two of you exchange numbers the night at the bar.” 

Treena blushed. “Maybe,” she said with a coy smile. 

“Oh, dish!” I clapped with excitement. 

“He's so sweet, Lou. And I love his accent. You know how I'm a sucker for accents.” 

She talked for about thirty minutes about how much they had in common and how much he liked children. 

“We have a date when I return home for Christmas holiday.” She beamed. 

“I'm so happy for you, Treen. I knew you two would hit it off.” 

“Oh, we really did.” She took a sip of her mojito. “So, how are things with you and Will? He seems like he's doing better. He seems… happy. I love how he is with Tom.” 

I smiled. “I think he is happy, but I still worry about him.”

Her brow furrowed. “You don't think he'll still go to Switzerland, do you?” 

I glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. But even if they were, they wouldn't know the significance of the country or what we were referencing. 

“I don't know. On good days, it seems like a distant possibility. But on the really awful days, Treen, I can almost understand his choice. He's in so much pain almost all the time.” 

“Oh, Lou.” 

“I'm trying to be strong for both of us. I want to believe he'll see the life we can build with each other, but I also have to prepare myself if he decides to go through with it.” I dropped my head. “I also realize it's not my job to change his mind. I only want to show him our life can be so good together.” 

“I think you will.” Treena squeezed my arm. “I think you can do anything you put your mind to Louisa Clark.” 

My eyes met hers. “You think so?” 

“I know so.”

After our drinks, we returned to our room arm-in-arm, and I rested my head on her shoulder. I think that was the best talk I had with my sister in a long time. 

Chapter 24: Will

The hotel room was quiet after Nathan left, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioner kicking on. It was strange--staying here in this hotel in the middle of London. The hotel was my go-to for romantic staycations when I wanted to impress a woman. Now, it was just a reminder of a life that seemed like a dream or a distant memory. 

Tonight, I laid in my bed somewhere between relief and boredom, counting down the hours until Nathan returned to help me with whatever small movement I needed.

Nathan had been diligent, going through my nighttime routine with his usual efficiency. Teeth brushed, face washed, arms and legs shifted just so. He joked that by the end of this trip, I’d be sick of him, but the truth was I’d become used to his help. I trusted him. He was one of the few people who didn’t tiptoe around me or treat me like I was about to break. Still, once he left and the door clicked shut, I was ready for some peace.

I thought about today and everything that happened. The SCS trial was underway, and I could feel a tiny flicker of anticipation despite trying to remain cautiously optimistic. The trial was just beginning, but already, hope crept in around the edges, trying to find a foothold.

“Call Clark,” I said, using the voice command system on my phone. A few moments later, the ringing began, and I let out a small breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Will!” came her bright voice, instantly warming the space around me. “How’s London treating you? All posh hotels and room service, I bet.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Something like that. Though I haven't gotten around to trying the room service yet.”

She chuckled, and I could almost picture her smile. “You sound exhausted. How’d it go today?”

I sighed, rearranging the words in my mind so I wouldn't have to lie to her without giving my secret away. “It was a long day. My meeting went well, though it went longer than I had initially anticipated. But I'm in bed resting now.”

I hope that was good enough, and Lou wouldn't probe any deeper. 

“Well, if anyone can handle long meetings, that's you. I hear you used to be quite the wiz.” 

I grunted. “That was a long time ago, Clark. Anyway, how was your day? You're enjoying Aubrey Hall, I hope.” 

“Oh, Will,” she sighed dramatically, and I could hear the excitement. “It’s unbelievable. You should see the gardens, the rooms—everything’s so fancy! And don’t even get me started on dinner.”

I heard the joy and excitement in her voice, and an involuntary grin spread across my face. 

“Dinner?” I asked, raising a brow even though she couldn’t see me.

“I had the best meal of my life. I mean, it was practically a religious experience.”

I chuckled. “A religious experience, eh? What exactly did you eat that made you feel so enlightened?”

“Wagyu,” she said, drawing out the word dramatically. “The moment it touched my tongue, I nearly melted into my seat.”

“Go on,” I said, amused. “I’m intrigued.”

“Well, you know how you told me to order it? It was like... like a steak from heaven. I mean, I can’t even describe it. Treena said I looked like I was—well, let’s just say, having quite the time.”

I laughed. “So, what I’m hearing is, you had an orgasmic experience with a piece of steak?”

“I actually think I moaned when I took the first bite. Treena said I looked ready to curl up with a cigarette after.”

“It was that good, huh?” I forced myself to keep my voice light, ignoring any thoughts of Clark in the thoroughs of passion. I was willing to bet my life that she looked absolutely stunning when she came. 

Her voice dropped slightly, turning more playful. “Honestly, I didn’t think a steak could make me feel that way.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. “Careful, Clark. You’re making me jealous of a piece of meat.”

“Well, you should be,” she teased. “It practically melted in my mouth. Pure perfection. Almost made me forget I’m not there with you.”

There it was. The shift. The teasing dropped away, leaving the soft vulnerability between us. “I miss you, too,” I admitted. “It’s not quite the same without you around to take the piss out of me in person.”

Lou fell quiet for a beat, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “I wish I were there with you.”

“I know,” I said, my chest tightening a little. “But I’ll be back soon enough.” 

“Well, when you get back, we can make up for lost time.”

“I’m counting on it,” I said, my voice softening.

We stayed on the line a little longer, chatting about her day at the spa and my upcoming schedule at the clinic. The easy banter between us grounded me, reminding me how much she changed my life. I was doing this—this trial, the therapy, everything—for her. For us.

“How’s your mum and Treena?”

“They’re great! Mum’s already picked out a dozen ways she will recreate the ‘charcuterie’ board at home. She calls it a cheese tray, though.”

“I bet she does,” I said with a smirk. “And what about you? You enjoying yourself?”

She needed to get the most out of her experience. Even though she decided to stay close to home with me, I want Lou to have opportunities to enjoy things she might have passed up on a few months ago. Despite her promises that she wouldn't allow our relationship to hold her back, I feared her world was getting smaller every day. 

“I am,” she said, though her voice dipped slightly. “But I wish you were here. It’s strange being in a place like this without you.”

I exhaled, feeling the weight of her words. I wanted to be with her too, but this trip—this trial—was something I had to do alone. Still, the longing in her voice tugged at something deep inside me.

“I’ll be home soon,” I promised, my voice rougher than I intended. “And then we can spend as much time together as you like. Even if that means watching one of those godawful period dramas you love.”

“You know you secretly like them. Everyone loves Collin Firth as Mr. Darcy,” she teased. “But I’ll hold you to that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of backing out.”

We lingered on the line for a moment longer, neither wanting to hang up. But eventually, she let out a soft yawn.

“I should probably let you rest,” she said. “Early day tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I replied. “But you’re the one who needs sleep. Go on, Clark. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight.”

As the call ended, the quiet returned to the room, but it didn’t feel quite so oppressive anymore. I closed my eyes, thinking of her laugh, the way she always managed to bring light into the darkest corners of my life. Maybe this trial wouldn’t change everything. Maybe I wouldn’t regain the things I’d lost. But maybe I could be enough for her. 

---

The days following my first visit to the clinic blurred together into a routine I hadn’t anticipated. Each morning began with the same familiar sound—the soft beep of my phone alarm, followed by Nathan’s knock at the door, signaling it was time to begin.

My new team of clinicians wasted no time getting me started. The SCS trial was underway. The treatment was holistic, as promised. Mind and body. Every day brought something new.

The physical side of things started almost immediately after breakfast. Nathan and my new physical therapist guided me through the usual physio routines, carefully stretching and moving my body to keep the muscles from wasting away. But now, there were electrodes involved—tiny devices connected to my spine, designed to send electrical impulses through areas that had long been dormant.

The first time I felt the faintest twinge of something—an almost imperceptible buzzing sensation in my lower back—I couldn’t help but hold my breath. Was it progress? Or  was my mind playing tricks on me? Nathan didn’t say much, but the quiet look he gave me said enough.

“We’ll see how it goes,” he murmured.

After the physical work came the mental. Dr. Rawlings had insisted that part of the process involved addressing the emotional toll my condition had taken. I was skeptical, of course. Therapy had never been my thing, and the idea of sitting in front of some therapist and talking about my feelings seemed like a waste of time. But when the sessions began in her pleasantly decorated office with its pastel colors—I found myself surprised.

“Good afternoon, Will. I'm Doctor Hughes,” she said, sitting across from me. 

I watched her wearily, waiting for her to begin some spiel about how she would “fix me,” but she didn't do that at all. 

“I'm sure you've read all about me,” I quipped. 

“I've seen your file. But I'd like you to introduce me to Will Traynor in your own words.” 

For a split second, I thought of introducing her to my left foot, but I didn't want to jeopardize my place in the program. I had to take every part of it seriously. 

It wasn’t what I expected.  Dr. Hughes didn’t push. Instead, she led me through a series of cognitive behavioral exercises designed to help me manage the waves of frustration and hopelessness that still hit me on my worst days. We talked about Lou, about my family, and about what it meant to live a life that was no longer defined by the things I couldn’t do.

“When you start feeling that way, what are some things that you can do or think about to help you work through it?” 

I sat in my thoughts, trying to come up with something profound. But naturally, my mind drifted back to Lou. “I could think about Clark. How she looks when she laughs or the time she called pesto sauce green gravy,” I said. 

Dr. Hughes laughed with me. “That's a good start. What's something else you can do or think about that isn't tied to Lou, something that's just your own.” 

This required more thought. “I could read, watch a movie, listen to music.” 

“I think that's a great idea. I know this probably seems simple, but having activities you can turn to when you start experiencing hot cognitions is important.” 

One day, she had me describe my life before the accident in detail. The next day, she had me envision what it could look like moving forward. It was uncomfortable at first—like picking at an old wound—but slowly, I began to see the value in it.

“I think it helps,” I said, my tone thoughtful. “thinking about the things I can do—as limited as they are—instead of focusing on all the things I can't do. Somehow, it feels less oppressive,” I confessed. 

“And how does that make you feel?” 

I stared her in the eyes. “A bit lighter.” 

Between sessions, I ate. Sometimes, Lou called me, and we chatted for a few minutes. She would talk about her spa treatments and drinking champagne by the pool. 

The evenings were more subdued. Nathan would help me with my nighttime routine, and then I’d spend time alone, thinking about the day and everything we were working toward. I called Lou, to hear her voice and share a few lighthearted moments.

But there were other nights when I let the silence settle around me, focusing on the subtle changes in my body. The SCS wasn’t an overnight fix, but there were glimmers—small hints of progress that kept me from sinking too far into despair.

One night, I thought I felt a tingling in my left foot. It was faint—barely there—but it was something. I told Nathan the next morning, and he looked cautiously optimistic.

“We’re just getting started, mate,” he reminded me.

By the end of the week, the trial was almost over. I hadn’t experienced any miraculous breakthroughs, but the combination of the SCS and the therapy had given me something to look forward to. 

I know I'll never walk again; my injuries were too severe, and unless there were any major advances in medicine or technology, the likelihood of remaining a quadriplegic was a certainty. I wouldn’t regain everything I’d lost. But as I lay in bed that night, thinking about the week’s progress, I realized that this was more than physical recovery. It was about learning how to live again on my terms.

It was learning how to be Will Traynor again.

At the end of the week, after the SCS trial wrapped up, I found myself back in the consultation room with Nathan beside me. Dr. Rawlings sat across the table, flipping through his notes. His calm, clinical expression gave away little, and I tried not to let the anticipation gnaw at me.

“Well, Mr. Traynor, we’ve reached the end of the trial period,” Dr. Rawlings started, his tone steady. “And I’ve reviewed all the data from the week.” He looked up and met my gaze. “The results are promising.”

I braced myself. “Promising?”

He nodded. “You’ve shown significant improvement in pain management according to your daily self-reports, the data collected by the SCS device, and my physical examinations. It appears the device has effectively reduced the neuropathic pain you’ve been experiencing, which is a key success. More importantly, there’s been some improvement in sensation, particularly in areas with some nerve activity.”

I thought about my “good” hand. I couldn't be sure about the sensation in my foot, but my hand was a sure sign that the device had some effect. I gained some sensation in two more of my fingers and could now flex my thumb a bit more. 

I swallowed, forcing myself to keep a level head. “But it’s not a cure,” I said, more as a statement to myself than a question.

“No,” Rawlings agreed, giving me a sympathetic look. “It’s not. But the fact that we’ve seen improvement in both pain and sensation is a good indicator that with continued monitoring and fine-tuning, you’ll benefit from a permanent implant.”

I stared at the doctor, my mind flicking back and forth between cautious optimism and the skepticism that had become second nature. “So, what does that look like?”

Dr. Rawlings leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands together. “We’d move forward with implanting the permanent device. The pulse generator would be inserted under the skin, typically in your lower back or abdomen. Stimulation can be controlled with a remote device.”

“So, I’d have a small lump under my skin?” I asked, trying to picture what this would mean in the long term.

“It’ll be a small outline designed to be discreet,” Rawlings confirmed. “You may notice it, but it shouldn’t interfere with your day-to-day life.”

Nathan, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up. “And the results will continue, right? The pain management and the sensation improvement?”

“Yes,” Dr. Rawlings said. “Though we’ll need to make periodic adjustments to optimize the settings, particularly in the first few months. Every case is unique, so it’s about finding what works best for Will.”

I exhaled slowly, taking that in. “And the risks?”

“With any surgery, there are risks,” Doctor Rawlings replied. “The most common include infection, device migration, or malfunction. But we minimize those with careful post-op care. We’ve done hundreds of these procedures with a high success rate.”

I nodded, my gaze dropping to my hands. So far, it sounded like everything was going as planned. But there was one more thing I needed to know.

“And what about… the other issue we discussed?” I asked quietly, my throat tightening a bit.

Doctor Rawlings gave me a knowing look. “Sexual function is more difficult to predict. The SCS can improve sensation and muscle control, and in some cases, patients have reported better sexual experiences. However, it’s not guaranteed. You might see improvement, but we’d need to monitor that as we go.”

I nodded, feeling the familiar frustration rise. Of course, it couldn’t be as simple as flipping a switch. “But it sounds like there’s a chance,” I muttered.

“There’s a chance,” Rawlings said gently. “And we can also explore medications like we discussed if needed. Those medications, combined with the stimulation, could help.”

I nodded again, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. It wasn’t a definitive answer, but it was more than I had before.

“So, what do you think?” Nathan asked, his voice calm but supportive, as always.

I took a deep breath, trying to process everything. A permanent implant. Reduced pain. Potential improvement in sensation…

“I’ll do it,” I said after a beat, the decision settling heavily in my chest. “Let’s move forward.”

Doctor Rawlings smiled slightly, his demeanor reassuring. “We’ll schedule the surgery soon, Will. This is a big step, and I think it’s the right one for you. Additionally, Doctor Hughes would like to continue with you. Post-surgery, it will be important for you to have additional support. She's also prescribed you a low dosage of Lexapro. Combined with your continued treatment, you should feel some improvement in your mood in about thirty days. On your way out, you can stop at our pharmacy to pick up your new prescriptions.”

As he left the room, Nathan turned to me, clapping me on the shoulder. “You did good, Mr. T. We’ll get through this.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting out the window. I wasn’t sure how much of this would change my life, but I felt like I had gained back some of the control I had lost in August. 

I was finally moving forward. 

Notes:

In case anyone is curious, I want to reiterate that I'm not using SCS as a "miracle cure" for Will. So, this story won't fall into that trope. The goal is to keep this story grounded in the same reality that JoJo Moyes created. Please don't expect Will to walk at the end of the story, and for those who feared the arc was heading in that direction, rest your fears.

Chapter 25: Lou

By the time we returned home, my body felt so relaxed that I was practically boneless. For an entire week, I'd been waited on hand and foot, served the finest meals, drank the best wine, and pampered until I couldn't take it anymore. Treena, Mum, and I visited the salon daily for massages. There were deep tissue, Swedish, and hot stone massages. Mud baths, facials, manicures and pedicures. Around the third day, I stopped feeling guilty about all the money I was spending on Will’s dime and allowed myself to relax. 

Every night, Will and I talked on the phone until we were both heavy-lidded and nodding off during our conversations. I still didn't know the purpose of his trip to London, but each night, he looked exhausted, as if he was running one of Patrick's stupid marathons. 

On the last day at Aubrey Hall, we had a lovely brunch and sipped mimosas before heading back home. While I enjoyed our holiday, I was happy to return to my routine. 

“You look great, Clark,” Will complimented me as soon as I walked through the annex door. 

Without hesitation, I dropped my bags and ran to him, sliding into his lap to kiss his face. 

“I take it that means you missed me?” He lifted a brow. 

I nodded, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I did. But we also had a fabulous time. I can't believe I've lived in England all my life and never heard of that place.” 

“It's a hidden gem. I'm glad you liked it. It's one of my mother's and George’s favorite holiday spots.” 

“Oh, and here I thought you had carted me off to a resort where you wined and dined one of your ex-girlfriends.” 

Will laughed. “I may be a fool in love, but I'm not stupid, Clark,” he teased. “I'm pleased you enjoyed yourself. Next time, I'll have to get you to venture out of the country.” 

“Sure, but you have to come with me.” 

“It's a date.” 

After our warm reunion, I helped Nathan unpack Will’s things while he napped in bed. We chatted about Aubrey Hall, and I hid my smile when he subtly asked about Treena. I was in the middle of folding his trousers when I noticed an official-looking document hanging out of the inside pocket of his suitcase and plucked it from its hiding place. 

Instantly, my blood ran cold. Will had promised that his trip didn't involve Dignitas, but somehow, I couldn't shake the sense of dread gripping me as I unfolded the letter. 

Dear Mr. Traynor, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the Spinal Cord Stimulator (SCS) treatment trial. You have proactively taken the next step to better your health and… 

My eyes darted to the dates in the letter. This treatment was scheduled for the same week Will had been in London. I glanced at Nathan. While I was off getting facials and massages, Will was at some clinic in London going through some kind of treatment I didn't know about. Why hadn't he told me? Why did he keep something so important from me? I didn't even know what this meant, but a fire burned deep in my stomach. 

“Did you know about this?” I asked, holding up the letter and giving Nathan an accusatory stare. 

Nathan looked away for a moment before answering. “I really think you should talk to Will about this, Lou.” 

“Oh, I am. But I'm asking you now. Did you know?” 

Nathan sighed. “I did, but really, Lou. I can't talk to you about this. Patient confidentiality and all that. You'll have to speak to Will.”

“Well, I'm his carer and—” 

“No, no, you're not. Not anymore. You're his girlfriend. And that's something he'll need to talk to you about.” 

I opened my mouth to say something else—to protest, but deep down, I knew Nathan was right. This was between me and Will, and it was unfair of me to bring Nathan into it. Even if Nathan knew about the trip beforehand, he was bound by laws preventing him from disclosing any medical information to me. 

“You're right. I'm sorry.” 

“It’s alright, Lou,” he said, touching my shoulder. “I've got to get to my next patient, but I'll be back after supper.” He grabbed his coat and medical bag. “Listen,” he said, pausing at the door. “I know you're upset at him, but hear him out first.” And with that, he was gone. 

Still shaken by the letter, I walked into the kitchen on wobbly legs and put the kettle on for tea. While Will slept, it began snowing, and I sat by the window with a mug in my hand and the letter next to me. After everything Will and I had been through, I still couldn't understand why he would keep something this big from me. 

Why, Will? Don't you trust me? 

Late in the afternoon, Will awoke from his nap. I gave him some water and helped him with his pills before settling on the bed beside him. 

“What is it, Clark? You seemed troubled,” he said, a concerned expression on his face. 

“I found the letter to the clinic you were at this week.” My voice sounded flat. “I was helping Nathan unpack your things when I saw it. Don't worry, he didn't tell me a thing. He suggested that I talk to you about it.” 

Will sighed, and I saw the rise and fall of his chest beneath the duvet. “I was going to tell you, Clark. But I wanted to make sure that I wasn't—” 

“Wasn't what? Keeping secrets from me.”

“Clark, will you please adjust me? I want to look at you when we're arguing,” he said. 

And despite my anger, I adjusted his pillows and raised the bed so he could sit up before I moved away from the bed. 

“There. That's better. Now please come and sit down. I want to discuss this like adults.” 

I made an indignant noise. “Right, now you want to be an adult about this.” 

“I understand why you are upset, but you don't understand, Lou. I've been here before. I've searched for treatments, miracle cures, and experimental procedures to help me. None of it worked. I allowed myself to hope. I allowed everyone I ever cared about to hope, only to be let down time after time. I didn't want to do that to you. I didn't want the same thing that happened between Alicia and me to happen with us.” 

“I'm not Alicia!” 

“I know you aren't. You're about the farthest thing from her that I could imagine, but—” 

“No, Will, you don't get to compare me to her. She left! I've been here for you through everything these last nine months. I’ve seen you at death's door, and I stayed.” I moved my arms as I spoke, barely able to contain my emotions. “I watched you tell me my love wasn't enough, and I still returned. You really think that I could possibly leave you if some stupid treatment doesn't work?” 

Will pressed his lips into a thin line, and he looked away. “Everyone leaves eventually, Lou.” 

“Your parents haven't. Nathan hasn't.” 

“They have to be here. You don't.” 

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I’m not just here for the fun bits, Will! I’m here for the hard parts, too. Didn't you think I deserved to know?”

“Yes, of course, and I was going to tell you.” 

“You promised to be honest with me each step of the way. It feels like you were shutting me out.” 

“That's not what I wanted.” He stared at me, his eyes full of unchecked emotion. “Come sit down next to me, Clark. Please.” His voice sounded so soft, almost pleading. 

His quiet please undid me, and my body sagged as all the anger seemed to flow out of me. Fatigue washed over me as I sat down. I hated being cross with him. I hadn't been this hurt and angry since that awful night on the beach. 

“I started researching the clinic a few weeks ago. Shortly after my AD attack. The pain has been getting worse, and I wanted to find some kind of relief.”

“You didn't tell me.” 

“I've lived with this pain for so long, Louisa, that it's as natural as breathing. If I told you how often I'm in pain, you'd get sick of me.” 

“I'd never—”

“It's a lot.” He cut me off. “I try to grit my teeth through it, but it's so damn hard sometimes. That's why I chose Dignitas. It was more than being unable to dive off a cliff or go skiing. I just want to have some quality of life. You made me want to have a better quality of life. So, I started doing my research. Perhaps if I had looked in this direction before…” his voice faded. “I don't know, and there's really no use dwelling on the past. But I've looked now, and I think this is a good solution to help with the pain.” 

I took his hand. “Oh, Will,” I said because I couldn't think of anything else. 

“But it's more than that, Clark. I spoke to the doctor while I was in London. There's a possibility that it could help me regain sensation in areas of my body that have been impacted by nerve damage.”

My brow furrowed. “That means you will be able to walk again.” 

He laughed mirthlessly. “I wish. No, this isn't a miracle cure. I won't be able to walk again, Clark. This is my life. But if there’s a way to reduce the pain and regain some motor functions, then I owe it to myself to try.” 

“Of course!” I squeezed his hand and wondered if there might ever be a day when he would feel it. “I just wish I had been there with you and for you, Will. This is important. I want to be part of this every step of the way.” 

“And you will be. I just wanted to make sure I was managing my expectations.” 

I nodded, understanding forming inside of me. “Okay. I know you don't want me to get my hopes up, but this sounds promising.” 

“It does. It really does, Clark. This has been the most exhausting but fruitful week of my life. I wanted you to be part of it, but I also wanted you to enjoy yourself. That's important to me.”

“I know…”

“Nathan took notes. I want us to go over them when he gets back. But in the meantime, I'll tell you everything.”

“Okay,” I said, settling next to him. 

I listened quietly as he recounted his week at the clinic. He told me about the SCS machine and the treatments. He talked about his therapy sessions with Doctor Hughes. His voice lowered when he got to the part about Doctor Rawlings recommending drugs to help with his sexual function, and I blushed. 

“And you’ve started the medication for your depression?” 

“Started my first dosage today. It'll take about thirty days to kick in, but Doctor Rawlings thinks it will help.” 

“I'm so glad you've decided to try new things,” I said. “I think it will help.” 

“So do I. I never wanted to do therapy. I thought drugs were for the weak. But Doctor Hughes has helped me see there are alternatives. I like her.” 

“Will you need to go back to London to see her?” I plucked at his T-shirt while I spoke. 

“No. We're going to start telehealth next week. Two times a week, and if things go well, she will gradually scale it back.” 

“That's wonderful, Will. And the SCS?” 

“Doctor Rawlings will get back to me on my surgery date for the implant, but it won't be until after the New Year.” 

“Oh.” I didn't like the prospect of Will needing surgery. It seemed so risky. 

“I know what you're thinking. But the surgery is minimally invasive. Nathan will be able to explain better than me.” 

I sighed, feeling the weight of our conversation pressing down on me. I still didn't like the idea that Will kept this from me or that I was off on a holiday while he did this on his own, but I understood. 

I took his hand and brought it to my lips. “One day, there might be a chance that you'll feel this.”

He smiled. “Yes, Clark. I've already gained some sensation in two more of my fingers.” 

My eyes widened. “Really?” 

“Yes.” He showed me his “good hand,” and I saw the slight twitch of his middle and ring finger.

“Oh my God, Will! That's amazing.” 

He grinned. “You think so?” 

“Yes! A million times yes,” I said, leaning down to kiss him. 

Chapter 26: Will

November passed without much fanfare. The peaceful days that followed my trip to London were a welcome change, but not without the weight of expectation. After our talk, Lou sat down with Nathan to review every detail of my new treatment. She didn’t try to hide the hope in her eyes when she heard what the SCS could mean for us. And as much as I tried to temper my excitement, I knew the real challenge would be keeping her hope from ballooning into something impossible.

I had seen what happens when Lou throws herself into a cause. Switzerland had taught me that. For months, she had tried to change my mind, believing that if she just loved me enough, she could save me. This time, I didn’t want her to face that same disappointment.

Still, it was hard not to get caught up in it, in her optimism. I found myself searching for improvements every day, questioning whether the flicker of sensation I felt in my fingers or legs was real—or just wishful thinking. Nathan did a good job of keeping me grounded.

"The mind’s a powerful thing, Mr. T,” he would remind me whenever my thoughts started to wander toward optimism or doubt.

Still, I threw everything I had into physio, pushing myself harder every day as we moved toward my surgery in late January.

A sharp gust of wind rattled the window, and a moment later, the front door creaked open. I heard the unmistakable sound of Lou bustling through the entryway, the rustling of plastic bags, and the soft thud of her boots as she stomped snow from her floral print Wellies before kicking them off. A few minutes later, she appeared in the doorway, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, her arms full of bags stuffed to the brim with Christmas decorations. 

“Hello!” she called, her eyes bright with excitement. “Guess what I did today.” 

I rolled out to the main living space. “Emptied out every shop in town?” 

“Yes!” She said, shaking her bags. “And you will not believe the deals I got today.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused by her energy. “I thought you said we didn’t need any more decorations, Clark.”

“Well,” she set the bags on the counter with a thump, “that was before I saw how much they’d slashed the prices.” She dropped the bags onto the floor, grinning from ear to ear as she peeled off her coat and scarf. “They were practically giving these away.”

I chuckled as she unpacked her treasures—strings of lights, tinsel, and ornaments in every shape and color. “We’ll have to build a bigger house at this rate.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, tossing a ribbon roll onto the couch. “We’ll just have the most festive annex in all of England.”

She turned to look at me, a playful glint in her eye. “Besides, it’s going to be our first proper Christmas together. I want it to be perfect.”

There it was—that infectious enthusiasm that had a way of creeping into my chest and warming the cold places I hadn’t even realized was there. I watched her momentarily, wondering how someone could make the simplest things—like Christmas decorations—feel so monumental.

“And look, I found the best thing of all,” she said, moving toward me with something hidden behind her back. “Tadah!” 

I stared at the tiny elf doll in her hands with its green and red uniform and candy cane-striped legs. A manic smile was painted on its plastic face with rosy red cheeks and bright blue eyes. A green hat covered its blonde head, and red shoes covered its tiny feet. 

“It's got stripey legs!” 

“I see. I know how much you love stripes

 As much as you love elves.” 

“When I was little, we had one of these, and my Mum would take it out every Christmas and put it in different places around the house. One year, my Dad moved it from on top of the telly and put it in the freezer with a note that said, ‘just cooling off.’ Treena and I thought he was cold, so she covered it with one of Mum's fancy napkins and kept the door open, defrosting everything in the freezer. 

“So, your dad turned the elf into a popsicle, and you two gave it a full-on rescue mission? How very Clark of you. I suppose it's lucky you didn't toss him in the oven to thaw him out, or we’d be talking about Elf on the Shelf flambé by now.” 

“Oh, you!” She swatted her hand at me and then looked around the room. “Now, where should we put him in?” 

 “How about on the windowsill.” 

Her eyes widened. “That's perfect because now he can see the snow.” 

“Good idea,” I said, trying to keep a straight face. 

I moved to the breakfast counter and tried to peer into her bags. “Any presents in there for me.” 

She bit her lip, and her eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Nope, I finished all my shopping weeks ago. You'll just have to wait, Mr. Traynor.” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“Keep it up, and you might get a lump of coal in your stocking from Father Christmas.” 

“Doubtful. I have it on good authority that I've been a good lad this year.” 

She laughed and slid onto my lap. I watched her face as she ran her hand through my hair. “Yes, you have,” she said, rubbing her lips against mine before I deepened our kiss. 

I danced my tongue against hers, moving slowly as I explored the sweetness of her mouth. She tasted like peppermint and chocolate; I couldn't get enough of her. The kiss ended too soon, and she glanced at the wall clock behind her. 

“It's almost time for your appointment with Doctor Hughes,” she reminded me. 

“Right,” I said, only mildly disappointed as she stood from my lap. 

“I'll make some tea, then make myself scarce.” 

“I'll see you in an hour.” 

She blew me a kiss as I left her in the kitchen. Back in the media room, my computer was waiting for me, ready for me to log into my session. Over the past weeks, I’d come to anticipate my sessions with Doctor Hughes. She pushed me to think about things differently and challenge my views about myself and my condition.  But there were still times that I'd rather skip them, like today. 

“How are you today, Will?”  Doctor Hughes greeted me with a smile. 

Today, she wore her shoulder-length ash-blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She was working from home, and I saw a garden outside her windows. 

How was I today? The same as yesterday, bound in a chair, a prisoner in my own body. That wasn't going to change. But I could change my perspective. “Today's a good day,” I began. 

“Oh? Tell me about it.”

I grew silent in quiet reflection. “I wasn't in as much pain when I woke up.”

“That is good. I'm glad you're able to recognize small victories.”

We talked for an hour; I told her about my minimal physical progress since returning from London—continuing to motivate me. We discussed the grieving process, and his that will continue to cycle throughout my life, and ways I could cope. And, of course, we talked about Lou. 

“How's Clark handling all this?” 

“With her usual enthusiasm,” I said with a smile. “It worries me, though, because I don't want to disappoint her.” 

“How could you disappoint her?” 

“If this procedure doesn't work, it was all for nothing.” 

She was quiet for a moment, allowing the silence to fill the digital space between us. “Would you have any control over that if it doesn't?” 

“No.”

“Do you honestly believe Clark would blame you if it doesn't?” 

“No,” I said again, the word slipping out as easily as London rain. 

She nodded. “Why do you think you assumed Clark would be disappointed in you if you know you have no control over the outcome of the procedure?” 

“Good question, Doctor. You're the expert, you tell me.”

She raised her brow. “Are we going back to this, Will? Shall I hang up now? If I do, I'm still billing for the full hour.” 

I laughed. “Fine. I don't think Clark will be disappointed—she would, but not how I presented it to you. Everyone faces disappointment. Clark… well, she'd just keep going, researching other treatments or some adventure to drag me on. I'd be disappointed. And I don't think I could survive another disappointment. I try to be like Clark, but I can't.”

“And that's okay if you don't have the same level of optimism as Clark. You balance each other out. From what you've told me, she's been one of your biggest supporters. That's good. But I'd like you to expand on that. Have you thought about connecting with other quadriplegics who have gone through the procedure like we discussed?” 

“I'm not joining a support group,” I told her again. That was a non-negotiable. 

“Alright. Just continue to give it some thought,” she said, backing down as I knew she would. Doctor Hughes knew my boundaries. That's why I didn't mind these sessions as much. 

“What about the other thing we discussed? Have you spoken to Clark about ways you can explore intimacy with each other?” 

I looked away. “You know I hate this part of our sessions, right? I would much rather have an AD attack right now.” 

“If you do my left foot, Will Traynor, I'll double bill you.” 

It was a recurring joke between us, and I laughed. “No, not yet. I'd like to try it on Christmas.” My cheeks grew warm, and I frowned. Since when has I become a blushing maiden? 

“That sounds promising, but know that there's no pressure to take that step, and you're doing this because you're truly ready.” 

“I am, Doctor. I am.” 

---

Later that evening, Lou and I cuddled on the sofa and watched Christmas movies together. She and Nathan worked together to help position me, propping me against the cushions and ensuring I wouldn't slouch over. I tried not to be self-conscious as they moved me, but it was frustrating not being able to do something as simple as sitting on the sofa with my girlfriend. 

I think Lou could see my frustration and overcompensated by joking a little too much or laughing a tad too loudly. I remained quiet, unable to turn on the charm as Nathan secured me like a baby. Once I was settled, I tried to focus on the outcome. I was sitting on the couch with Lou, and she was close to me. 

An hour later, we were nestled together watching “Home Alone,” and Lou rubbed a circular pattern on my chest. I smelled her hair and felt its softness against my chin as she rested her head on my shoulder. She had thrown a blanket over us and wrapped my arm around her. 

I tried to concentrate on Kevin McCallister terrorizing two grown men with various household items, but my mind kept wandering back to my session with Doctor Hughes. I've never had this problem before, but now, every time I thought about bringing up the subject of sex, my mouth went dry, and a thin film of sweat appeared on my brow. 

She laughed, pulling me from my thoughts. My eyes flickered to the television. Harry slipped on the ice again. 

“Joe Pesci should be dead by now.”

I smirked. “By the second paint can to the face, at least.”

Lou giggled. “Or when his hat caught fire. Who stands there that long with their head in flames? He just stares like he’s waiting for inspiration.”

“He’s a persistent guy. Takes a lot to discourage a criminal mastermind like him. The Wet Bandits cannot be stopped.” I looked down at her. “Though I’m not sure what was more unrealistic—surviving all those traps or being outsmarted by an eight-year-old.”

“I watched this movie so much as a kid. Treena and I even made our own booby trap plan.” 

“Now I’d like to see that.” 

“What about you? What was your favorite Christmas Movie?” 

I furrowed my brow. “That's an excellent question. “‘A Christmas Carol.’” 

“Oh, so your love for Dickens started young.” 

“You could say that. There's something about being visited by ghosts of the past and future.” 

“Oh, yes, being haunted by ghosts is much better than taking a paint can go the face.” 

“Two paint cans,” I said, chuckling. 

After that, we finished watching the movie, laughing occasionally at Kevin's antics. She repositioned me a few times and refilled my beaker. My eyes landed on the digital time display next to the television. It was getting late, but knowing Lou, she’d want to watch another movie. She was determined to get through her “Giant List of Christmas Movies” before Christmas day. On my last count, there were seventy-five movies on the list. But she kept adding more every day. So, who knew? 

“You think you can make it through another?” She asked. 

I pulled in a breath, debating if I should say something or not. I wanted to be in bed with Lou, but I wasn't sure what that would look like. Well, I had imagined it countless times, but every time I did, I was able-bodied, capable of making love to Lou like a man with no physical limitations. Logically, I knew that sex was just about the emotions behind it as it was a physical aspect. But God, I wished I could be with Lou the way a man is meant to be with a woman. 

“Sure.” The word came out before I had a chance to pull it back. Lou beamed at me, clapping her hands. 

Relief flooded through me. I could face another cheerful Christmas movie with Lou. I exhale. “So, what's playing next?” 

She held up a DVD copy of “The Snowman.”

“Pop it in.”

Chapter 27: Lou

Summary:

Christmas is coming a little early for these two! I hope you enjoy this holiday chapter.

Thank you, everyone, for the kudos and comments. They mean the world to me. I fell in love with these characters back in October when I read and watched Me Before You for the first time, and for days after finishing the book and movie, I was having a hard time sleeping because of the ending. It's the type of story that stays with you. While I appreciate JoJo Moyes for gifting us with these characters, I really wanted a more hopeful ending. I'm glad that you all have decided to read my fic and that you've taken the time to tell me how much you are enjoying it! That's like fuel for writers. :)

 

Will and I woke on Christmas day to a world covered in a lush carpet of brilliant, white snow. I blinked against the pale sunshine filtering into our bedroom and smiled. 

“Good morning, Clark,” Will said beside me. 

I shifted my body so I could look at him. He smiled, and I slid my hand through his soft hair. “Good morning. How did you sleep?” 

“Not too bad. Of course, I had you here to keep me comfortable.”

I leaned down and kissed him softly on his lips. Hearing him speak like this chipped away at the tiny nugget of worry that always sat in the pit of my stomach. But I didn't want to think about anything negative--not today. It was Christmas morning, and we had a full schedule. 

I started to get up when he stopped me, saying, “No, let's just lay here for a while and watch the snow.” 

Nodding, I moved closer, resting my head on his chest, and we watched the snowfall. I could hear bird songs in the distance and the last embers of the fire burning in the fire place. 

“I forgot how beautiful it is when it snows on Christmas,” he said. 

“I know.” My voice sounded wistful. I thought about making a joke about him missing all of this, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. I savored the mornings when Will didn't wake up in excruciating pain, and we could enjoy it together like this. Since his trip to London, those days seemed to have reduced—not significantly--but they were much less. 

I thought about his pending surgery in February. Will and Nathan cautioned me not to get my hopes up, but I couldn't help myself. I wasn't hoping he would walk again—I’m not that stupid—I was hopeful that the surgery would help his quality of life, reduce his pain, and give him some control over his life again. 

Still, I couldn't help watching his hands for signs of life. I watched for any ticks and twitches, but I tried to remain grounded in our reality. There were things Will would never be able to do again, but that didn't mean we couldn't find meaning in life together. 

I dragged my eyes from the snow outside and stared at Will. His eyes were shining. “What?”

“You're beautiful in the morning, Clark. Kiss me.” 

I grinned and leaned into a kiss. His lips were soft and warm as I moved my mouth over his, falling deeper into the cocoon surrounding us. I could kiss Will all day, but eventually we both had to breathe. 

“Alright,” I said, easing away. “Time for presents! 

Will have a mock exaggerated sigh. “Do we have to? I would rather stay in bed all day with you. Kissing.” He wiggled his brows. 

“Staying in bed is boring.”

“I assure you, Louisa Clark, about three years ago, those words would have never come out of your mouth.” He gave me a sexy grin, and I almost melted on the spot. 

"Three years you didn't even know me." 

"True. But never mind the details." 

Will had hinted at intimacy the last few days, making jokes here or there. I thought about sex with him often. When I started working for the Traynors, I had joked with Patrick about the girl needing to be on top. Now, I realized that there was a lot more that went into it. We’d have to make sure his blood pressure was normal, the temperature in the room just right, and then there was the matter of making sure it could… 

I haven't pressed him about it. Part of me was too nervous to bring it up. I'd love to make love with Will, but I also worried about everything that could go wrong. What if I hurt him? Or he had an AD attack because of me. I didn't want to risk that. He’d been doing so well. 

“Well, we can always climb back in bed after making our rounds.”

“That's right. Christmas with the Traynors and the Clarks. Sounds like a holiday caper.”

“Oh, don't be such a Grinch. Today is going to be fun.” I said, sliding out of bed. 

I helped Will into his chair. He had given Nathan another two-week holiday, and he was spending Christmas and New Year with his family. Will and I went through his morning routine: face, teeth, shower, and shave. I helped him perform those duties with a professional efficiency that might have rivaled Nathan. Afterward, I gave him his medication, and he washed it down with water. 

“Okay, which one?” I asked, holding up a candy stripe onesie and one that had little Rudolphs all over it. 

“Stripes,” he said with an air of seriousness that made me laugh. 

“What? This day is going to be immortalized in photos and home videos. Picking onesies is vitally important. If someone from the future was learning about our holiday rituals, they should know how crucial stripes are to the whole affair.” 

I laughed again. “Stripes it is.” Secretly, I was happy with his choice. 

After changing into our matching striped onesies, we headed to the main living area in the annex. Weeks ago, Nathan, Will, and I went tree shopping. I picked a seven-foot fir, and together, we brought it home strapped to the car's roof. 

Will and I decorated it with the new ornaments I brought from ValueVenture. Well, Will directed, and I filled the tree with brightly colored balls, tinsel, and twinkling lights at his direction. When I was done, I stood on a ladder and placed the star on the tree. 

The annex looked like a Christmas fairy exploded, leaving every inch of the modern space covered in holiday decor. 

“Oh, it looks like Father Christmas was here,” I said, clapping my hands. 

Will grinned at me as he moved closer to our tree. I sat down and sifted through the gifts we brought for our families and each other until I found one with his name on it. 

“Alright, you first!” 

He nodded, and I ripped the green and red foil paper off the box, revealing a cream cable knit sweater, and held it up for him. 

“Do you like it?”

“It's lovely, Clark. Thank you.” 

Grinning, I rose to my feet and placed it on his lap. Carefully, I took his right hand and laid it on the sweater. “Can you feel it?” I asked, barely above a whisper. 

I watched his hand, the long elegant fingers that once allowed him to do simple things like touch a sweater. His thumb moved back and forth over it. Then he moved his index and middle finger. Months ago, he only had limited thumb and index finger movement. This was such an encouraging sign. If his surgery was successful, he might even gain some mobility in the other two fingers. 

“Yes…” his voice was filled with awe. “Mostly in my thumb and index finger, but I feel it a bit in the others.” 

I smiled. “I'm glad you like it.”

“I love it. Now it's your turn. Reach under the tree. There should be a gold one with a red bow.” 

“I'm excited. You give the best gifts,” I said, remembering my birthday. I don't think any present before or since could top it. 

I reached under the tree and found my package. “I wonder what it is?” I said, giving the flat, thin box a shake before carefully peeling off the expensive-looking wrapping paper. 

“Oh!” I cried, my face splitting into a wide smile. “Sonny and Cher!” I jumped to my feet and showered his face with kisses.

I looked down at the vintage vinyl record, and my eyes watered. Sonny and Cher looked up at me. A wooded area surrounded the couple, and “I Got You Babe” appeared on the cover in large bold letters. 

“It's perfect!” I said and swiped at my eyes. 

“There's something else.” 

“But it's your turn.” 

“They kind of go together.”

I nodded and sat back down to search under the tree. The next wrapped gift was bigger and much heavier. I ripped the paper off, too excited to do it with the same care as my first present. Another excited squeal escaped my lips. 

“Oh, my God!” I said as I carefully examined the antique record player. “Oh, Will.” 

He gazed at me with a wide grin. I loved my gifts. They were so thoughtful and so… Will. 

“So I did well?” 

“More than well. These are amazing.”

“But I suspect those stripey tights are still the winner,” he teased. 

I shrugged. “They were the first gift you'd ever gotten me. I don't think anything will top them.”

He laughed. “That sounds like a challenge.” 

I paused our gift-giving to make a breakfast of eggs and toast. After eating, we returned to the tree, and I excitedly opened Will’s present for him—a film projector. 

“Is that a film projector?” 

I nodded. “I thought we could set it up one evening and have a film festival. We could even invite Nathan and Treena.”

“That sounds like a fantastic idea.” 

We smiled at each other, and I noticed the moisture in Will's eyes. I had one more gift for him but wanted to wait until this evening. 

“Come here,” he said. “You're much too far away.” 

I slid onto his lap and wrapped my arms around his neck before kissing him. Sighing, I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes. 

“I love you, Clark. Happy Christmas.” 

Happy Christmas, indeed. 

---

At around eleven, Will and I left the annex to join his parents—and Georgina, who had returned home for the holidays—at the main house. She sat sullenly on the sofa with her arms crossed and face pinched. I smiled at her, but she looked away. 

“Happy Christmas!” Mr. Traynor greeted us. 

Steven took my hand, enveloping it in his large, warm grasp. He squeezed it gently before letting go. Mrs. Traynor greeted me with a subdued smile and directed me to sit. 

“I thought we’d begin with brunch, and then we can open gifts,” she said. 

“Sounds yummy!” I tried to smile, but the tension in the room felt thick and heavy with unspoken emotions. 

I glanced at Will. The expression on his face was hard to read. He warned me that Christmas with the Traynors wasn't a loud, noisy affair filled with gift exchanges, and the smell of roast turkey filleing the house, making it warm and cozy. I looked around the formal living room where we gathered for the afternoon. The Christmas tree seemed as tall as the one at Rockefeller Center in New York. Each ornament was symmetrically placed on the branches, giving it that perfect catalog finish. A porcelain angel topped the tree, looking down at us with a serene expression, and I wondered how much it had cost. I'd gotten our Angel from ValueVenture. It was made of plastic and polyester. 

The rest of the decorations in the room coordinated with the tree. The snowy white stockings hanging over the fireplace all pointed in the same direction, framing a fresh wreath in the center. Other ornaments were strategically placed around the room, making me think of all the catalog ads I had flipped through while looking for inspiration for the annex. Everything looked beautiful but cold and distant. 

“The tree looks very lovely,” I said. “You did a wonderful job, Mrs. Traynor.” 

She laughed stiffly. “Thank you, Louisa, but the credit goes to the decorator.” 

“Oh.” I glanced at Will, and I saw a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Well, they did a fantastic job.”

“Of course they did. Mother only hires the best decorators and the best staff. Too bad she couldn't hire someone to fix her marriage.”

“George,” Mr. Traynor said in a way that sounded like a warning. 

“Well, it's true.” She crossed her arms tighter in front of her chest in a way that reminded me of a petulant child. “And I don't see why we must participate in this charade? You two are separated.”

“Yes, well, your father and I thought it would be nice to spend Christmas together as a family one last time.” 

“Your mother is right. We have a lot to celebrate this year. Divorce doesn't mean we aren't a family.” 

Georgina scoffed. “When have we ever been a family?” 

“Well, it isn't even noon, and we're bickering already. If that doesn't have the markings of a family, I don't know what does,” Will said, his eyes shining with amusement. 

I laughed a little too brightly and wondered when Will and I could get the hell out of here. He wasn't kidding when he said Christmas would be an awkward, dull affair. Although, I had to disagree with the dull part. 

I  only met Georgian once before, and Will told me she was a bit high-strung. Still, I didn't understand why she was determined to ruin the holiday spirit. Mr. Traynor was right, we all had a lot to be thankful about. We made it to another Christmas and received the best gift of all—Will was alive and in good health. I couldn't imagine Treena on the brink of death but surviving and not being happy about it. We didn't always get along, but none of that mattered. In my book, that was a cause to celebrate. 

Perhaps I didn't understand because my parents weren't divorcing, but you would think she’d at least try to have a pleasant holiday. 

“So, when do we get to eat? I'm starving. Clark only fed me some eggs and toast this morning,” Will said. 

I swatted his arm. “You said you wanted to eat light to leave room for all the food my mum will stuff you with later.” 

“I said that?” He laughed. 

“Right, right. We don't want to keep you,” Mrs. Traynor said. “I'm looking forward to meeting your parents at the New Year party this year, Louisa,” Steven said. 

“They are very excited. Wouldn't shut up about it.” My cheeks flushed. “I mean, stop talking about it.” 

“I'm sure we'll be delighted to have them.”

I gave him a polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Traynor.”

“Steven. As Will stated, we’re all family now,” he said, earning another scoff from Georgiana. 

“He's right. It seems silly that we aren't all on a first-name basis by now. You are, after all, Will’s...girlfriend,” Mrs. Traynor said. 

After that exchange, we sat in the formal dining room for our catered brunch, exchanging polite conversation. When we finished brunch, we gathered around the tree, and even Georgiana thawed a bit when it was time to exchange gifts. 

“Here, open mine,” I said, handing her a store-wrapped present. She looked a bit taken aback when I held it out to her. 

“Oh, thank you, Louisa. I wasn't expecting a gift.” 

“I hope you like it,” I said, shrugging.

I watched in anticipation as Georgina unwrapped the paper, revealing a Tiffany Blue box. She looked up, her lips parted in disbelief. I know what she was probably wondering, how does a career afford anything from Tiffany's? A few weeks ago, I visited London to see Michael Lawler while Christmas shopping, and finally retrieved my check. I've been managing my money frugally, but Christmas was a good excuse to splurge. 

She opened the box, and a genuine smile crept across her face. “Oh, Louisa, it's lovely!” she said, showing everyone the sterling silver charm bracelet inside. 

“Will helped me pick it out. He told me that you've always loved them.” 

“I do! Ever since I was a child. Oh, and look, mummy! It has a charm with all our birthstones.” George looked up again. “Thank you, Louisa. This was truly a very thoughtful gift.” 

“And so kind,” Camilla said. 

We continued to exchange gifts; I presented Steven with a tie and matching pocket square, a fountain pen set for Camilla, and Will with a pair of fuzzy black and yellow striped socks. 

“To keep your feet warm,” I explained. 

“They're fantastic, Clark,” he said, his smile reaching his eyes. “Now we match.” 

“Yes. Me with my stripey legs and you with your stripey feet.” 

Everyone laughed, and it eased the strain between us. 

“There's another gift under the tree for you,” Will said, his voice quiet. 

“Me?” 

“Yes, I had Mother put it there for me as a surprise for you.” 

My smile widened. “I love surprises! But only the good kind,” I said, reaching under the tree. 

A few seconds later, I was holding a long, slender box wrapped in the fancy wrapping paper Camilla used for all the gifts and opened it. 

Another Tiffany blue box. “Will! You shouldn't have,” I said before lifting the lid. 

“Go on, open it, Clark.” 

I nodded and lifted the lid, revealing a diamond tennis bracelet. It caught the pale sunlight and sparkled, nearly blinding everyone in the room. I'd never received such an extravagant gift before in my life! It must have cost Will a fortune and was undoubtedly more expensive than anything I owned. 

“Mum, will you help Clark put it on?” 

“Of course,” darling.

I watched, stunned, as Camilla lifted the bracelet from the box and clasped it around my wrist. It looked even better dangling from it. 

“Will, I don't know what to say. I've never—this is…thank you!” 

“Louisa Clark, speechless. I never thought I'd live to see the day.”

Everyone laughed again, and I slid onto his lap, kissing him gently, not caring if his parents or sister were watching. 

Notes:

More Christmas cheer coming in Will's chapter next week!

Chapter 28: Will

Notes:

This chapter contains some sexual content toward the end.

Christmas at the Clark's was exactly how I had imagined it: Loud, warm, and full of love. The complete opposite of a Traynor magazine ad affair with perfectly matching, monochrome decor. There were splashes of color everywhere, from the mismatched ornaments on the tree to the red and green nutcrackers sitting on the coffee table. 

Everyone wore ugly Christmas jumpers—Josie’s idea—and drank eggnog. Tom sat on my lap, showing me his new Batman action figure he got from his mother. I grinned as I listened to him describe some feat Batman was embarking on. 

“Alright, Tom, why don't you get down and give Will a break,” Josie said. 

“It's no problem at all. He could sit on my lap all day, and I wouldn't feel a thing. I guess you could call that a perk, considering how much Clark likes it when I tow her around.” 

Everyone laughed. Witty is what I did when I started feeling self-conscious about my condition, but with the Clarks, my jokes felt natural. Maybe because they found my quadriplegia the least interesting thing about me. When I was around them, I almost felt like the old me. 

Lou smiled at me as she reached for some roasted chestnuts Josie had set out on the table. Her diamond tennis bracelet caught the light and sparkled, drawing Bernard and Treena’s attention. She grabbed Lou’s wrist and whistled. 

“Wow, Lou, you could blind an entire football team with that.”

Lou blushed. “Will got it for me for Christmas.” 

While Clark searched for the perfect gifts for George and my mother, I suggested she try Tiffany's. The bracelet caught my eye, and I knew it would look perfect on Lou. So, I waited until she was distracted one afternoon and secretly purchased it for her. I had it delivered to the house, and my mother wrapped it for me. 

“Well, it's about time a man gave her a diamond even if it's not a ring,” Bernard said. 

“Oh, hush. The bracelet is just lovely.” Josie swatted his arm. 

I glanced at Lou. She had turned a deeper shade of pink, but she was smiling. I learned a while ago that teasing was a Clark family love language. You had to give as good as you got. 

I deployed my infamous Traynor charm. “Well, she deserves that and more,” I said, and Treena and Josie almost swooned. 

“Ohh, do I hear wedding bells?” Treena asked. 

“Oh, stop!” Lou said. 

I watched her face. Did Lou want to get married? In all my months of knowing her, that never came up. I just never imagined Lou as a wife. Whenever I pictured her, she was off on wild adventures, breaking hearts and avoiding dodgy men. Hadn't she been with Patrick for seven years without a proposal? I supposed she wasn't interested in marriage. But the look on her face told me I might have miscalculated. 

The possibility of marriage never occurred to me. Who would want to marry someone like me? What could I offer? Catheter changings and endless doctor appointments? Not the most romantic stuff. People have always liked to bring up that actor, Christopher Reeves, but he was already married after his accident. I couldn't ask Lou to tie herself to me so permanently. That would truly be unfair even if she said she was all in. I wanted her to have an escape hatch, the ability to walk away when she realized that our life together was too much. I didn't want her to feel bound to me by guilt or legal paperwork. 

“Anyway, I think it's a good time to open our gifts,” Lou said, changing the subject.”

“There's more?” Thomas asked, hopping off my lap. 

“Yes,” Lou and I said together. 

“Why don't we let Tom go first? He's practically bursting at the seams,” I said. 

Lou reached beneath the tree and handed him a medium-sized box wrapped in a fun Christmas pattern wrapping paper—which he didn't bother to notice as he ripped into it. 

“The Batmobile!” He said loudly as he looked down at the box. “Look, Mum!” 

“It's remote-controlled and has an ejector seat.” 

“Oh, I have to try it. Can I, Mum? Can I?"

Treena grinned. “Yes, but only if you promise not to run over our feet.” 

“I won't!” 

Lou and I exchanged glances before she handed out the rest of the gifts. A sweater for Grandad, a leather bond personal cookbook for Josie, a bottle of vintage scotch for Bernard, and a year's worth of bus fare to Treena so she could come home as often as possible from uni without worrying about the cost. Lou had also thrown in a hat and mittens set as well. 

“Oh, Lou, you really outdid yourself! I wish we could have given you more.” 

Lou held up the second-hand Wellies her parents got her, hugging the boots to her chest. “These are perfect. You have no idea.” 

“And you too, Will. What do you get the man who has everything?” Bernard said. 

My brow creased as I thought about Bernard’s statement. Did he really think I had everything? “I loved my hat,” I said. “But you've already given me the best gift of all.” I looked at Lou and winked. 

Josie placed a hand on her chest and sighed. “I always knew I liked you, Will Traynor. We're doubly blessed to have you with us this year. “ 

“Thank you, Josie. I'm happy to be here,” I said, meaning it. 

“There's one more thing!” Lou said, and I raised a brow. I didn't remember any other gifts. 

She reached into her bag and rummaged inside before pulling out a thick, folded piece of paper. Then she got up and sat on my lap. 

“Will, I want you to read it,” she said as she unfolded the paper. 

I scanned the page and looked up at her, grinning. “Clark! You got in.” 

She nodded tears in her eyes. 

“Got in where?” Bernard asked. 

I read, “Dear Ms. Clark, we would like to congratulate you on your acceptance into the London School of Fashion.” 

Immediately, the room broke out into loud cheers, and Treena and Josie rushed over, pulling Lou out of my lap so they could hug her. 

“What's going on?” Tom asked. 

“Your auntie Lou got into fashion school!” Bernard said. 

“Oh,” “Tom said, making a disinterested face. “Good for you, Auntie Lou.” 

I chuckled. Tom was more interested in his new Batmobile than anything going on with Lou. 

“I have Will to thank,” she said. 

“I believe you did that all on your own.” 

“Because you pushed me. I would never have the courage to apply if I hadn't met you.” 

I couldn't help the smile stretching across my face. “Well, you can thank me by dedicating your first fashion show to me.” 

“That's a promise,” she said, sliding back into my lap and kissing me softly on the lips.

Lou and I closed the night out with her family, sharing one of Josie’s delicious Christmas dinners and playing board games while Christmas movies played in the background. At around nine o’clock, we called it a night, so it wouldn't throw my entire routine off. 

I also had one more gift for Lou. It was rather bold of me, but after meeting with Doctor Hughes before she took a break for the holiday, I decided to take the next step with Lou. I'd hunted around it several times, and Lou was always supportive. She'd even convinced me to go online with her and look up devices that might help. We found one that might suit our needs, and  I saved it to my favorites. I wasn't ready to make that step yet. I'd like to see if things could happen without using devices and the like. 

It was a long shot, but I felt confident enough to try. Lou made no secret about intimacy. She didn't push or pressure me into doing anything I didn't want to do. It made me feel like a virgin, touched for the very first time. The thought made me chuckle.. 

“What’s so funny?” Lou asked on the drive back home. 

“Nothing, just thinking about something your father said.” 

She grinned. “Did you have a good time?” 

“The best time. I like your family. They remind me there's still a lot of good left in this world.” 

“They like you too. A lot.” 

“More than Running Man?” I teased. 

“Oh, let's not talk about him. But yes, I think so.” 

Somehow, that made me happier; no, I wasn't jealous of Patrick—it felt good knowing I won. 

We arrived back at the annex fifteen minutes later, and I tried not to let my nerves show as Lou and I went through our nighttime routine. Once we were settled, she poured us each a glass of wine and sat by the fire as Nat King Coles's version of “Christmas Song” played over the speakers. It was my favorite version. 

I stared into the cracking fire and tried to think up a subtle way to bring up the topic of sex. The old Will Traynor would have set the mood with an expensive bottle of champagne and some candlelight. I would have something flirty, and the next minute, we’d be in bed reading each other's clothes off. 

Quite the drastic change, I thought. 

“Do you want to watch a movie? ‘A Christmas Carol?’” Lou asked. 

“No, I’d just like to sit by the fire, listen to some music, and kiss my girl.”

Lou smiled and placed our glasses down beside each other on the table. I tried not to think about the straw sticking out of mine and focused on her. 

Don't think about your limitations, Will. Try to think about the things you can do. 

Doctor Hughes' words echoed in my mind. I nearly chuckled again. Here I was, trying to seduce my girl, and I was thinking about my therapist. You couldn't make this stuff up. 

I stared up at Lou as she sat on my lap. “You looked incredible today,” I said. 

She laughed. “Right, because nothing says sexy like an ugly Christmas jumper.” 

“It was pretty hideous.” 

“Pfft, not as bad as yours. But I think grand dads’s was the worst.” 

“Oh, yes. It has my vote for the ugliest Christmas jumper in the history of ugly Christmas jumpers.” 

We laughed together before she leaned closer to kiss me. Her lips were full and warm against mine. She parted them, inviting me in, and I explored her mouth slowly, tasting her sweetness. 

“You really are beautiful,” I murmured. “And I can't believe you’re mine.” 

She touched my cheek. “Believe it, Will Traynor.” 

We kissed again, and as we deepened it, our mouths became more urgent. I vaguely felt Lou’s breast against my chest, and I wished I could touch her, but my arms and hands remained immobile by my sides. I pulled away, frustrated, and she shook her head. 

“No, don't. Just kiss me. That's all I need,” she whispered. 

I wanted more. 

We continued to kiss until we were both breathless. “Clark,” I said, my voice sounded foreign in my ears. “I have another gift for you.” 

She pulled back, her eyes wide. “Another gift? Will—” 

“It's in the top drawer,” I said, cutting her off. 

I moved into the bedroom with her still sitting on my lap. Lou hesitated for a moment before climbing off. I watched her, holding my breath as she opened the drawer. She held the little black box in her hand—not a ring box. I didn't want there to be any confusion. 

She looked up at me and smiled. “Thank you, Will.” 

I smiled back. “You haven't even opened it.” 

She shrugged. “It came from you.” 

“Well, open it up.” 

She did, and I watched her face go from curious excitement to perplexed. Inside the box was a tiny blue pill.

“You got me a blue… ‘Smartie,'” she said, and I laughed. 

“Not quite.” I drew in a breath and sighed. “Remember what we've talked about? Well, I thought…”

“Will, are you sure?” Her brows knit together. 

“Yes. I know is not the most romantic, but—” 

She rushed toward me, cutting me off with a kiss. 

“Yes,” she said. “A thousand times, yes.” She looked around the room. “I'll get you some water and—” 

“Wait, Clark.” 

I was pleased about her enthusiasm, but there were some things we needed to discuss. “You know we have to take this…” my words faltered. “And it might not work. There's also my blood pressure.” 

“She cupped my cheek. I've thought about all that. I've even done some reading. We just have to take our time and be careful.” 

“Yes…” 

“It'll be alright, Will, no matter what. But it's up to you.” 

I thought about what she was saying. Kind, thoughtful Louisa was giving me an out. For a split second, I thought about taking it. But I wanted to be with her in this way. I had thought about it long enough, imagining her face when she came, imagining what it would be like to be joined with her mind, body, and soul. 

I swallowed hard. “I want to take you to bed, Clark,” I said. 

Lou nodded and stepped closer. This time, when she undressed me, she took her time, stopping to kiss my lips, my neck, and behind my ears. I smiled when her mouth returned to mine. When I was naked and in bed, she placed the pill on my tongue. 

“Kiss me,” I said. 

She pressed her lips to mine, and we kissed. She gave me water and began to undress. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she removed her clothes, letting them fall to the floor. 

I moved my gaze to her breast. They were even more fantastic than I had imagined. Lou climbed into the bed beside me and pressed her body against mine. Although I couldn't feel it, we had never been this close before, and something ran through me. 

We kissed again, but this time, there was more heat, more longing behind it. My tongue danced along hers. We stayed this way for several long minutes, kissing until we couldn't breathe. I was lost in her and in the moment. For a second, I forgot about my limitations and focused only on Lou, her face, lips, and body. God, I wanted her body. 

“I think you're ready,” she whispered against my lips. 

“Yes, I've been mentally ready for months.” 

That made her laugh and eased the tension like I wanted. She moved over me, and I watched her as she took my hand in hers and guided me down her chest, between the valley of her breasts. I couldn't believe my eyes as my thumb skated over her nipple. I was touching Lou. We were in bed naked together, about to make love for the first time. 

“Oh, Will,” she said. “I can't believe this is happening.”

This couldn't be happening. Seeing her like that above me, her hair cascading down her shoulders in brown waves, the look of love on her face. I forgot for a moment who I was and tried to sit up so I could pull her close to me, only to still be on my back, locked in the same position Lou had put me in. I couldn't move; I couldn't touch her like I wanted. My mind was a prisoner in my body. 

Then, just like that, Lou’s expression shifted, and she glanced down. I already knew before she told me. 

“Uh, maybe there's something I can do,” she said. 

“No, it's alright. I had a feeling something like this would happen.” I couldn't help the frustration and disappointment in my voice. 

She moved beside me, cuddling against me. “Things like this take time.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Trust me, Clark, two years ago, things like this wouldn't have taken no time at all.” 

“Well, we can always try again... when you're ready of course.”

I looked at her, momentarily speechless. I hadn't expected that response. “You want to try again?” 

“Of course, but only if you do.”

“Well, I… I do. But I'm not sure I can take this disappointment again. I'm not even sure if I can please you or even feel pleasure myself, but it was about more than just that. Well, that was an important part, but I want to be close to you in the most intimate way.” 

“So do I. It doesn't matter to me if I get off or not.” 

I chuckled. “I'm glad you feel that way, but Clark, it's very important to me that I can get you to climax. I need to see your face when I do.”

Lou grinned, and I saw determination and even lust in her gaze. Even after that disaster, she still wanted me. 

“Well, there's more than one way to do this,” she said, taking my hand. 

She kissed the pad of my thumb, and a spark of desire ran through me. Then, to my utter amazement, she took my hand and guided it down her body. 

Notes:

I'm not sure if Brits have "Smarties," but they are a chalky pill-like candy sold here in America, and they come in the shade of blue in multicolor packs. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed these Christmas chapters!

Chapter 29: Lou

 I woke up the next day at dawn. The sun painted the pale sky a brilliant orange as it peeked over the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. The stillness felt heavier than usual like the world was recovering from the festive chaos of the day before. I watched as nature began to reluctantly wake up, the quiet hum of life slowly returning.

There was an undeniable stillness in the air, a kind of post-holiday haze that settled over everything. The excitement and warmth from Christmas had faded, leaving behind an odd mix of exhaustion and reflection. Even the soft crackle of the dying embers in the fireplace seemed muted as if the fire had settled into deep fatigue. 

Beside me, Will continued to sleep, snoring lightly. He didn't usually snore, but he was exhausted. A shy smile tugged at the corner of my lips, and I closed my eyes, trying to capture the memory, preserving it for a later time.  The previous night lingered in my mind, both the intimacy we had shared and the frustration that came with it.

Even though we both wanted it, we were nervous for different reasons. He didn't have to say it, but I knew Will prided his past sexual adventures. I didn't know him then, but something told me he had no problems with the ladies. This was a new experience for him—for both of us. I wanted to put him at ease, but I don't think I did a good job at it. I was practically shaking in my knickers. 

I couldn't shake the idea that I was hurting him despite his insistence to the contrary. Logically, I knew he couldn't feel me on top of him, but there were other things that could go wrong. An AD attack. Bloody hell, a heart attack. 

When he looked at me, really looked at me, all I wanted to do was show him that we could still be close to each other. No, it wouldn't ever be the conventional way, but it was ours. 

Even though things didn't go quite as planned, I cherished every moment. Every look, every kiss, and every touch. 

“Morning.” Will greeted me with a sleepy smile. 

I moved closer to him and caressed his cheek. “I wasn't expecting you up so early.” 

“Me either. Someone wore me out last night. I don't know how I'll operate my chair today.” 

I flushed. “Well, we could just stay here all day.” 

“I rather like that idea.” He grinned. 

I cuddled against him, his naked body warm against mine. I took his hand, the hand that I had guided over my trembling body. Taking it, I brought it to my lips and kissed each of his fingers. 

“Good. I'll get you back in your pajamas and make us breakfast.” 

“No, let's stay like this a little longer. I want to look at you, Clark.”

I looked down before shifting my body so he could get a better look at me. I know I wasn't his usual type—leggy blondes with perfectly fit bodies, but he studied my body like a masterpiece. 

“You’ve gone pink all over,” he whispered. 

“I was thinking about last night.” 

He grinned. “Not my best performance, but you were magnificent. I knew you'd look beautiful when you—” 

I pressed my lips against his. “You're too much,” I said, easing away with a smile. 

“Funny. I don't feel like enough.” The corner of his lips turned down, and his brow creased. I smoothed it away with my thumb. 

“You're perfect, Will Traynor. Perfectly, perfect for me.” 

He chuckled softly, the sound low and a little self-deprecating. “I think ‘perfectly imperfect’ might be more accurate. But thank you for indulging my fragile ego.” He tried to make light of it, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something unspoken but clear enough between us.

I shook my head, leaning down to press my forehead against his. “You're more than enough for me, Will. Last night didn't change anything. I loved being close to you like that.”

He closed his eyes briefly as if trying to absorb my words, then opened them again, his gaze softer. “It’s hard, sometimes, Clark. Wanting to give you everything and only managing... half of it. Less.”

I tilted my head slightly, running my fingers through his hair. “I don’t need everything. I just need you. Exactly as you are.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, and his lips curved into that half-smile I’d come to love so much. “Well, if that’s the case, I guess I can stop worrying. After all, it's hard enough work being perfectly perfect.” 

I kissed him again. His lips were soft and warm against mine, and I rested my head against his chest, fitting my head beneath his chin. I listened to the steady beat of his heart, comforted by the strong, steady sound. 

He rested his chin on the top of my head. For a moment, everything felt perfectly still.

After a long silence, Will’s voice broke the quiet. “Clark,” he murmured, his tone thoughtful, “when did you know?”

I shifted slightly to look up at him, my brow furrowing. “Know what?”

“That you loved me,” he said, his eyes searching mine, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “I’ve always wondered... when it happened? I wasn't exactly Mr. Congeniality.” 

I blinked, surprised by the question, my heart skipping a beat. Then I chuckled softly. “The day we watched Des hommes et des dieux.” 

He lifted a brow. “Really?” 

I nodded. “You were so charming that day.  Of course, I didn't know it yet… What about you?”

“The day you called me an arse.” 

I laughed. “Which one?” 

That made him chuckle. “When I smashed all my photos.”

“No!” I raised my brow. “You're joking.” 

“I'm not. You were sitting there like a child with an art project, doing something nice for me. I was being an arse, and you called me out. I think I fell a little in love with you then.” 

“We're quite a pair, aren't we?” 

“Yes, yes, we are.” 

“I love you, Will Traynor.” 

“And I love you, Louisa Clark.”

After spending the day after Christmas in bed, I gave myself the task of undoing all the holiday cheer around the annex, saving everything for next year. As I boxed up each decoration, bauble, and bulb, I found our little elf tucked away on the shelf where I last placed it. Will, Nathan, and I had fun moving it around the annex, leaving it in funny places, and making a cheeky little joke about it. No matter what, I knew I would never forget this Christmas. 

I tried not to think about what the next year would bring, but I fervently hoped it would be another year with Will. 

The days between Christmas and New Year crawled by. Will and I moved through the post-holiday slump, watching silent films on Will's new projector. I surfed the web, looking for records to play on my new record player and browsing my online coursework. 

The morning of New Year's Eve, I watched as fan after fan cruised past the house toward the castle for the last Traynor New Year’s Eve party ever. I'd never been invited to one, but I couldn't help the melancholy hanging over Granta House. It seeped through the walls and into the annex. 

Will seemed to be taking it in stride, but I could see the sadness in his eyes. No matter what, they were still his parents. 

“It's like a circus,” he said, turning away from the window. 

I smiled, hand-drying the last of the dishes. “Well, I always liked the circus. The popcorn and cotton candy.” 

“I doubt there’ll be any of that. More like caviar and bite-sized food that looks too delicate to eat and leaves you craving a big juicy steak after.  And let's not forget the stuffy debutantes and pompous aristocrats dancing off best to late nineties pop. 

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Maybe we should sneak in our own popcorn and cotton candy and teach those aristocrats how to really dance to nineties pop. I’m sure I could get you to do the Macarena.” I started doing the hand motion.” 

Will raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The Macarena? That’s where you lose me, Clark.”

“Oh, come on, you’d love it. We’d be the life of the party.”

He laughed, and for a moment, the tension in the air seemed to lighten.

Steven arrived a few hours before the party to help me with Will. While they dressed, I began beautifying myself, washing my hair, drying and curling it. I didn't do much with make-up, but I took my time with it. Once the hard part was done, I slipped into my red dress--the one Will liked so much. 

I stepped out of my old bedroom and into the main living space, where both Traynor men waited for me. They both looked devastatingly handsome in their black tuxedos. Steven looked like an older version of Will as he stood beside his son, his posture proud and confident. 

“You look lovely, Louisa,” he said. 

“Thank you.” I did a little twirl. 

“You're wearing my favorite dress.” Will flashed one of his heartbreaking grins. 

“I thought it fit the occasion.” 

His eyes traveled to the little clutch purse I held in my hand. “But I don't think you'll be able to fit popcorn and cotton candy on that thing.” 

I laughed. “Don't worry, I hid it in your bag.” 

Steven looked between us, not understanding the inside joke. “What are you two up to?” 

“Nothing,” Will said, navigating his power chair, stopping in front of me. “Your chariot awaits.”

I smiled as I sat on his lap. 

Steven cleared his throat. “I'll go check in on your mother.” 

“Right. Have to keep up appearances,” Will said.

I tapped him on his shoulder and mouthed, “be nice,” before giving Steven an encouraging smile. “We’ll meet you both at the castle.” 

Alone again, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “You look very handsome, Mr. Traynor.” 

“Do I?” 

“Oh, yes, better than James Bond on his best day.” I straightened his tie. 

“Well, that's only because I have you on my lap, making me look good.” I leaned in and kissed his lips. “And you smell incredible,” he said. 

“Thank you. You don't smell so bad yourself. So, are you ready to get this show on the road?” 

“Right. Here's to a Traynor performance of a lifetime. Tell me, is it a ‘My Left Foot’ kind of night or what?” 

I broke out into sputtering laughter. “If you Christy Brown tonight, your mom would go completely spare.” 

He joined my laughter, “Alright, I'll try to remain on my best behavior.” 

“Good. Because I think we’ve got enough aristocratic drama without you giving them a heart attack.”

Later that evening, we arrived at the Traynor New Year’s Eve party, moving into a grand ballroom that looked as if it had been plucked straight from the pages of an old English novel. The castle was aglow with hundreds of soft golden lights, casting a warm shimmer across the high, vaulted ceilings. The chandeliers sparkled above us, and elegant guests milled around with champagne flutes in hand, dressed in glittering gowns and sharp tuxedos.

The music was soft at first, with a live band playing in the background while groups huddled together and made polite conversation. It all looked very formal—exactly what Will had described earlier. Stuffy debutantes, aristocrats laughing too hard at jokes that probably weren’t funny. But, surprisingly, I found myself enjoying the atmosphere. There was something almost magical about it, the kind of night you didn’t get to experience often

I spotted Will’s parents greeting their guests. Steven placed his hand on the small of Camilla’s back, and I wondered how they could pretend so effortlessly. 

Will and I wandered around the room, occasionally nodding hello or exchanging a few words with someone. He was his usual charming self, playing the part of the enigmatic, handsome man in the wheelchair with a wry smile and witty remarks. But occasionally, I’d catch a flicker of something else in his eyes—maybe a memory of what these parties used to be for him. I placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently for support. 

When my parents arrived, they greeted us with quiet enthusiasm—unusual for the Clarks. 

“Will, this is stunning.” 

“Probably because I had nothing to do with it. This is all the work of Camilla Traynor.” 

“Oh, well… I am just speechless.” She tapped Bernard on his chest with the back of her hand. “You didn't tell me it would look like this.” 

Bernard grinned. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Come on, I'll introduce you to the other Mr. Traynor..”

“And they're off,” I said, watching them move toward Will’s parents. 

“Your parents look happy.” 

I turned my gaze toward him. “They are. I’m glad they'll get to enjoy themselves tonight.” 

We eventually made our way to the edge of the dance floor. I watched couples twirl elegantly, the soft glow of the chandeliers reflecting off their gowns like stars moving across a night sky. I felt Will's gaze on me, and I turned to find him smiling—not the sarcastic smirk he often wore, but something softer, something just for me.

And then the first chords of Thinking Out Loud began to play.

Will’s eyes brightened instantly. “Our song,” he said, his voice low, a little surprised.

I blinked, a grin creeping across my face. “It is, isn’t it?”

He looked up at me, “Dance with me, Clark.”

“Will, are you sure?” I asked. 

These weren't strangers at the wedding of his ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend; they were people who had watched him grow up. Guests that had seen the Great Will Traynor before his accident. I knew it had taken a lot for him to make an appearance. He hadn't been to one since before the accident. 

I imagined him back then, in his element, charming all the ladies and engaging the men with stories about all his adventures. This year, he agreed, and although his parents hadn't shown it, they were happy to have him and George around. 

He gave a slow nod, his smile widening. “We’ve danced before, haven’t we? Besides, I have a feeling you’ll make me look good.”

I laughed softly, but there was a knot of warmth in my chest as I looked down at him. His confidence, his charm—it was still all there. The Great Will Traynor. 

I slipped my hand into him, and we moved onto the dance floor. For a moment, the crowd seemed to disappear, and it was just the two of us, bathed in the golden glow of the chandeliers. I stepped in front of him, and with a playful wink, I slid onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. The movement felt natural like we’d done this a thousand times before.

Will chuckled, “I always knew you’d take the lead.”

“Well, I'm a leader,” I teased.

The music flowed around us, and I felt the weight of the world lift, if only for a moment. We swayed together, the soft melody of Thinking Out Loud wrapping around us like a warm embrace. I could feel his breath against my cheek, his warmth against me, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my hand.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Every note and every movement felt like a conversation we were having without words. As the song reached its peak, I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against his, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

“You know, I couldn't believe you said ‘yes’ to our holiday. 

He chuckled. “It's hard to resist you, Clark.” He searched my face. “So damn hard.”

The final chords faded into the air, and I pulled back slightly, looking into Will’s eyes. There was a softness there, something unspoken yet understood.

“I told you,” he murmured. “You make me look good.”

I laughed quietly, brushing a stray hair behind my ear. “Well, that’s because you make it so easy.”

We stayed like that for a moment, surrounded by the soft hum of the party but wholly wrapped up in our little world. Then, with a grin, I leaned down and kissed him softly.

“Happy New Year, Will.”

“Happy New Year, Clark.”

Chapter 30: Will

Shortly after the New Year, Nathan returned, and the house settled into its usual rhythm. We resumed our routine, though this January felt different, filled with anticipation and unease. My surgery was set for the beginning of February, and every day, I found myself quietly worrying about my health. If I so much as felt a hint of a cough, it set my nerves on edge. Any illness would delay the procedure for weeks, maybe months. After Christmas, I was more determined than ever to have it done. The improvement from November had plateaued, but I clung to the hope that this surgery might tip the scales in my favor.

Despite my focus on the surgery, life moved forward around me. Lou started fashion school only a few days after the New Year. Like everything else she did, she threw herself into her schoolwork, and I loved seeing this studious side of her. She had a full-time schedule, which included an in-person workshop every Wednesday. On those days, the annex felt quieter without her constant presence. 

On that second Wednesday, I’d seen her off in the morning with a grin, watching her disappear with her sketchbooks and fabric samples in tow, her mind already brimming with ideas. She took one of the spare cars, an older Mercedes that once belonged to me, so she wouldn't have to take public transportation. 

As soon as she was gone, mother’s decorator arrived to convert her old bedroom into a workspace—a proper studio where she could let her creativity take over without covering the entire annex in sewing patterns and fabric scraps. Nathan helped me sort out her things, and by the time the decorator arrived, the plan was in full swing. 

When Lou returned home, the transformation was complete, down to the dress forms, pattern tables, and shelves stocked with fabric and tools. I watched with anticipation as Lou entered the annex from the courtyard. I moved toward her with a smirk as she stepped into the annex, her hands full of samples and her cheeks flushed from the cold.

“Bloody hell, it's cold out there!” She said, dropping her things on the counter and peeling off her coat. 

“Well, get warmed up. I have something to show you.”

She raised a brow. “You do?”

 I tried my best to look serious. “You’ve officially been banished from spreading the contents of your brain all over the annex. Your clutter has a new home.”

She blinked, looking at me in confusion. “What are you on about?”

With a slight movement of my head, I gestured toward her old bedroom, now gleaming with fresh paint, the studio ready and waiting. Lou’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open as she stepped inside. She spun around, taking in the dress form, the storage shelves, the wide worktable, and the racks filled with fabric and supplies.

“Oh my God, Will!” she gasped, her hands covering her mouth. “This is… you did this for me?”

I raised my eyebrows in a shrug, trying to look casual. “I couldn’t exactly have your genius spilling into every room, could I?”

She turned to me, her eyes shining. “Are you serious? This is like… it’s like a real designer’s studio!”

Before I could reply, she threw her arms around me, laughing. “Thank you, Will! You’ve no idea how much this means. I mean… a whole studio, just for me!”

I chuckled, feeling a swell of satisfaction at her reaction. “Thought it was about time you had your own space to create to your heart's contentment.” 

She laughed, her joy filling the room. “I’m going to create masterpieces here. Just you wait!”

She kissed me softly on my lips, and I smiled. 

As January flew by, my birthday loomed. Another year, another reminder of time passing. Last year, I was recovering from a suicide attempt, and my parents were desperately trying to prevent another incident from happening. I was at my lowest point, unable to see beyond my despair. Now, things were different. Instead of thinking of ways to end my life, I actively sought ways to improve it. 

I’d finally decided to tell my parents about the surgery. I had held off because I didn't want them to get their hopes up, believing in a miracle cure that would never come, but as my birthday approached, it felt right—like a fresh start. 

My mother wanted to have dinner at one of her favorite restaurants this year, but Lou convinced her to do something small at home. After some debate, Lou took over my birthday preparation and with Josie’s help commandeered my mother's kitchen to in her words, “cook me a feast I’d never forget.” 

“Alright, Mr. T,” Nathan said, rousing me as I dozed by the window. “Time to get you nice and sharp for tonight.”

“What's wrong with what I have on?” I was wearing a pair of slacks and the cashmere jumper Lou had gotten me for Christmas. 

Nathan shrugged with a grin. “I was informed that this is a sports coat affair.”

I chuckled. “Let me guess, my mother insisted.”

“I don't know. But I heard a certain lady might break out a red dress you like so much.”

I imagined Lou in her dress. “Alright. Make me presentable.”

“You got it, Mr. T.”

An hour later, Nathan and I left the annex and followed the balloon clusters to the formal dining room where my family and Clark's, including Treena, Tom, and Grandad, were waiting for me with broad smiles. 

“Happy Birthday!” They shouted as soon as I entered the room. 

Josie greeted me with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. 

“Thank you, Josie. The food smells delicious.” 

“Lou and Camilla told me all your favorites. We all pitched in, even Treena and Georgina.”

“I made the tapenade,” Georgiana said, and for once, she wasn't pouting. 

“Thank you, George. I can't wait to try it.” 

I gazed at the full spread of food on the table and grinned. “I would say that after dinner, Lou might have to roll me out of here, but I already have that covered,” I said, moving my chair back and forth. 

Everyone laughed as I positioned myself at the head of the table next to Lou. 

“You look very handsome,” she said, brushing some invisible lint from my sports coat. 

“And you're looking delectable in that dress,” I whispered, making her blush. 

“While we can all agree the food looks and smells amazing, I think this occasion calls for a toast,” my dad said. 

“It’s only my birthday.” 

“Nonsense! Birthdays are important, and I'd say this year even more so,” Bernard said. “Look around us. Last year, I’d have laughed if anyone said, "I'd be having dinner with the Traynors.” 

“We have a lot to be thankful for,” my mother said. 

Nathan grabbed a bottle of champagne and popped the cork. After filling each glass, except for Thomas’. I looked to my father, who lifted his glass. 

“For thirty-six years, I had the privilege to watch you grow,” he began. “I've seen you triumph and accomplish goals I wouldn't have dreamed of. You have been my greatest source of pride and deepest joy.”  

I heard him choke up and blinked the moisture out of my eyes. Even with everything between us, I knew my father meant every word. 

“Your mother and I will always love you, no matter what. Happy Birthday, Will.” He raised his glass, and everyone did the same. 

“Your father is right. We will always be here for you, Will. Although life might not go as planned, we love you very much. And we are so grateful for you.”

“Thank you,” I choked out. 

“I have something I want to say,” Georgina said, surprising me. 

She cleared her throat. “Will, ever since I was a little girl, I looked up to you, and I envied you. You were the golden boy, and I tried my best to be like you or better than you.” 

The corner of my lip curled into a slight smile. “I'm not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” I said.

She gave me a tight, little smile. “It's a compliment, big brother. Anyway, I'm glad you're my brother and proud of you. I can speak for all of us when I say, I'm glad you're here with us to celebrate another birthday.” 

“Here! Here!” Lou said beside me, lifting her glass. 

After the toasts, we all gathered around the table and began making our plates. “I'd like some of that duck l’orange,” I said to Clark. 

“I think you'll like it. Mum cooked it.”

“She's a wonderful cook.” 

Clark filled my plate with duck, tapenade, smoked salmon, roasted potatoes and carrots, deviled eggs, and pureed parsnips. 

“Alright, before we dig in. How about grace?” Josie said. 

“Mum, I don't—” Clark began. 

“No, that would be nice. We have a lot to be thankful for,” my mum said. 

Josie smiled before she began. “Dear Lord, we are thankful for another year of celebrations. Tonight, we are thankful to be here with Will. Please give all of us the strength to continue. We look to you for comfort and guidance. Bless this food we are about to receive, and may it nourish our bodies. Amen.”

“Amen,” we echoed before digging in. 

Clark stuffed a napkin into my shirt and laid another on my lap. She fed me with care, her movements so in sync with me it was almost like I was feeding myself. No one noticed as Clark alternated feeding me than herself. 

“Champagne, please.” I grinned at her, and she placed the glass with a straw near my lips. “Can we try without a straw? I think champagne is better without a straw, don't you?” 

“You're the birthday boy,” she said, removing it from my glass and helping me take a sip. It tickled my nose, and I smiled at her. 

“Will, what did you ask for for your birthday?” Tom asked from his place next to Treena. 

“I didn't ask for anything. I have everything I want,” I said, looking at Lou. 

“Oh.” Tom made a disappointed face, and I laughed. 

“How about another toast?” Treena suggested. “I just want to say how happy I am—we all are,” she paused and looked at her parents, “that Lou met you. We've watched her grow so much since meeting you. And we're grateful to know you, too. You've changed all our lives. Happy Birthday!” 

“Here, here!” Nathan said, wrapping his arm around Treena and pulling her close. 

After dinner, Lou brings out a small two-tier cake with two lit sparkler candles shaped like a three and a six. 

Their out-of-tune singing of “Happy Birthday” made me grin as Lou placed the cake in front of me. 

“Make a wish!”

I closed my eyes and pictured myself after recovering from my surgery. I saw myself caressing Lou’s cheek on my own. I imagined days with reduced pain and nights with Lou. I took a breath and blew out the candles. 

“Happy Birthday!” Lou said before kissing me. 

While we ate dessert, Lou poured us coffee. I thanked her before clearing my throat. “I have an announcement,” I said. 

The conversation paused, and everyone looked at me. 

“A few months ago, I saw a specialist in London.” 

My mother's hand shook as she placed her cup on a saucer with a loud clink. Her face went pale. “What kind of specialist?”  

I told them about Doctor Rawlings and SCS. Everyone remained quiet as I explained the treatment and the surgery. Nathan chimed in a few times to answer some of their questions.” 

“The surgery is noninvasive?” My father asked. 

“No. The device will be implanted just beneath my skin.”

My mother toyed with her napkin. “What are the risks, Will? This surgery is—” 

“Minimal risk,” I finished for her. “There's a chance for infection, but that's the risk for all surgeries.” 

“Well, I think it's fantastic!” Josie said. “With all the medical advancements these days, who knows, we might see you up and running one day.”

I smiled sadly. “Well, that would be amazing, but I'm afraid that would truly be a miracle, Josie. The best I can hope for is reduced pain and maybe regaining some sensation in areas where I've lost it.”

“That's great,” Bernard said; he looked around the table, grinning. 

“It is!” Lou perked up. “If there's a chance that it will relieve Will of some of his pain, then he should do it.” 

“Well, it seems like you've done your research,” my father said. 

“Yes, I have. My surgery is in a few weeks at the beginning of February.” 

“Then we'll be there.” My mother gave me a tight smile, settling the matter. 

I looked around the table full of people showing me their support, and I couldn't help but feel hope blooming in my chest. What a difference a year made. 

Chapter 31: Lou

After dinner, our families chatted for an hour before Steven left for the evening, returning to his apartment in London. Shortly after, Camilla and George politely wished us goodnight, and we moved the party to the annex. My family stayed for another hour after that, chatting with Will until I had to remind them it was getting late. 

“I thought they would never leave,” I said to Will and Nathan once they were gone. 

“I enjoyed them,” Will said, smiling. “I like your family.” 

“So do I… most of the time.” 

“Alright, Mr. T, let's get you ready for bed.”

“As long as that means you make good on your promise and meet Treena for a nightcap.” 

Nathan grinned. “It’s a promise, boss.”

I watched Nathan and Will disappear into his room while I ducked into my studio, pausing to admire the space Will had created for me. I grinned as my eyes landed on my brand new top-of-the-line sewing machine. I still couldn't believe Will had done all of this for me. He had playfully asked if it was better than my tights. I loved my studio, but those tights were special to me.  

I rummaged through the closet where I hid Will’s gift. I found the bag containing the wispy lingerie I bought a few days earlier while I was in London for workshop. I held it in front of me, pressing the lace against my body. 

“I hope you like this, Will Traynor,” I whispered. 

In all my years with Patrick, I'd never worn anything like this. I never wanted to. 

“Alright, Loo, I'm heading out. I gave Will his meds; he should be good for the night.” 

I ducked my head out of the studio. “Thanks, Nathan.”

“No problem.”

“Make sure you and Treena get smashed tonight and have wild animal sex.” 

Nathan chuckled. “You’re mad,” he said as he walked out the door. 

Alone again, I checked in on Will. He was lying in the dark listening to music streaming from Alexa. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, just waiting for my incredibly sexy girlfriend to join me in bed.” 

I laughed. “I'm going to grab a quick shower, then I'll be right back.” 

“And I'll be right here.” 

I showered quickly before changing into the lingerie. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and licked my lips. It was a lot skimpier than I realized. I tugged at the hem, but it barely skimmed the tops of my thighs. Will and I hadn't gone beyond kissing since Christmas night. I wasn't sure if he wanted to try again, and I thought about changing into one of my Manchester t-shirts before changing my mind. 

Will was lying with his eyes closed when I entered the room. I paused shyly at the door and called his name. 

He opened his eyes, and I heard his breath catch. “Clark…” 

“If you don't like it, I can change.”

“No, don't.”

I stopped fidgeting, and my gaze met his. I saw desire in his eyes, and my skin warmed all over. No one ever looked at me like that before—like he could devour me in one bite. 

I moved toward the bed.

“Wait,” he said, his voice breathless. “I… God, Clark, you're beautiful.” 

I looked down, wrapping my arms around my waist. “I feel like an oversized doily.” I let out nervous laughter. 

“You joke, Clark. But you don't know what I want to do to you right now. I wish I could.” 

“Oh, Will. I'm a complete shit. I—” 

“Calm down, Clark.” He smiled. “I like it. Now come here so I can get a better look.” 

I climbed into the bed with him, relieved that I hadn't ruined his birthday. “I got it for your birthday.” 

“Happy Birthday to me.” 

I joined his laughter. “You really like it?” 

“Like isn't a word I'd use to describe how I'm feeling right now. Come closer; I want to kiss you.” 

Our eyes met, and in that moment, everything else faded away. Slowly, I leaned in, feeling my heartbeat quicken as the space between us closed. When our lips touched, it was as if a spark ignited inside me. His breath mingled with mine, soft and warm, and I could feel the faint smile on his lips as he responded, matching my intensity.

The kiss deepened, slow and full of promise, each movement drawing us in, erasing every thought beyond this connection. I felt the warmth of his skin, the softness of his lips, and the quiet sigh that escaped as we lost ourselves in each other, everything else falling away until it was just us, here and now.

As the kiss ended, I slowly drew away from him and smiled. “Happy Birthday, Will,” I whispered. 

---

Three days after Will’s birthday, I was back in workshop again. The moment I stepped into the studio, the familiar buzz hit me—a blend of excitement, the hum of sewing machines, and the slightly sharp scent of fabric fresh off the bolt. My heart did a little skip. It was like stepping into a dream where everything around me had possibility.

“Lou! Over here!” Gabe called, waving me over with his usual grin. Beside him, Pippa was already deep into her project; brows furrowed, hands flying over a length of rich purple silk.

“Finally, she arrives,” Pippa teased, barely glancing up as I slid onto a stool beside them. “We thought maybe you got lost in the world of high fashion and forgot about us mere mortals.”

I grinned as I crossed the room to our usual spot. Although I’d only known Gabe and Pippa for a few weeks, it felt like we’d been friends for ages. On the first day of class, Gabe looked me up and down and said, “You’ve got this whole ‘whimsical vintage’ thing going, don’t you? Let me guess—half your wardrobe is from charity shops, and the other half is probably a mix of rainbow stripes and floral patterns.”

I laughed, caught off guard by how accurate he was. “Are you psychic or something?”

“Just really good at reading people,” he’d replied with a wink. And from that day on, the three of us were practically inseparable.

“Oh, you mean this is all I missed?” I quipped, flashing them both a grin as I unpacked my sketchbook and supplies. I pulled out a roll of printed fabric I’d been saving, a floral pattern that practically screamed springtime, and set it on the table.

Gabe’s eyes widened. “Is that for the dress you sketched last week? Lou, that’s going to be stunning.”

The three of us gathered around, tossing ideas back and forth about the fabric, and my excitement grew with each passing minute. I loved the energy of being surrounded by people who spoke the same visual language and saw potential in every thread and stitch. It was a world I’d only ever dreamed of, and now it was real. And to think, Will had done so much to ensure I had a space to create, a studio in the annex.

A pang of worry crept in as I thought of him. In just under two weeks, he’d be going into surgery, and as much as I tried to focus on my work here, the thought of him lingered in the back of my mind. It was like a tiny weight pressing down, a reminder that while I was here building a future, he was facing something so uncertain.

But there was time to worry about that later. Right now, here in this studio, I could let myself dive into the thrill of it all. I grabbed my sketchbook, glancing between my designs and the fabrics scattered on the table.

“What do you think?” I asked, showing Gabe and Pippa the latest sketch.

Pippa pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I think it’s classic Lou—a little quirky, completely fabulous.”

“That’s what I’m going for,” I laughed, my energy lifting. 

We had an hour break between the first and second half of workshop, and I ducked in the library, skipping lunch with Gabe and Pippa. I found a corner table near a window and pulled out my laptop. I logged into the quad support group. A green dot appeared beside Ritchie’s name, and I sent him a private message. 

Busy Bee

Hey Ritchie! I wanted to update you on fashion school. I am LOVING it! I'm learning so much. We celebrated Will’s 36 Birthday on Sunday, and it was wonderful. I really think he’s turned a corner. In fact, he has surgery scheduled for February that might help him with the pain. 

Ritchie  

Hey, Bee! I’m so happy to hear about fashion school—knew you’d be great at it. And Will’s birthday sounds lovely. So... what kind of surgery are we talking about here? Is it something that’ll make a real difference?

Busy Bee 

Yes, it’s supposed to help with his nerve pain. The specialist said there’s a chance he might even regain some sensation, which would be amazing for him. He’s been in better spirits, too. I think he’s really hopeful about this.

Ritchie  

That sounds promising. But… you know Will. Hope isn’t always easy for him. Make sure you both manage your expectations. A lot of these treatments are still experimental.  Be optimistic… but with caution. 

Busy Bee 

I know. Trust me, I’m trying, but this time feels different. He’s been so positive lately, and I really think he’s doing this for himself, not just to make everyone else happy. He wants to have more control over his life again.

Ritchie 

Alright, I get it. I just don’t want you getting hurt, either. If this doesn’t go as planned, it’ll be hard on both of you. Just make sure you’re prepared for whatever happens, yeah?

Busy Bee 

I know what you’re saying. I’m being careful. I just want to be here for him, no matter what.

We talked about Will and school for the rest of my hour break before I had to sign off and return to class. For the rest of the afternoon, I concentrated on my first assignment, but my mind kept returning to the conversation with Ritchie. I knew he was right, but I had to remain hopeful. I didn't think Will could take another disappointment. 

 

Chapter 32: Will

The days leading up to the surgery passed both quickly and torturously slowly. Pre-op tests, consultations, and endless forms became the rhythm of my days. Every appointment brought me closer to the table, and each night, I lay awake, running through every possible outcome. After months of weighing every option, I could hardly believe that I’d actually committed to this.

Unlike my appointment with Dignitas, there wasn't a heaviness bogging down this procedure. Last year around this time, I'd been convinced that ending my life was the only option for me. I saw it as the long-awaited light at the end of the tunnel. Even though I was content with my choices, I could feel the weight of them on my parents and Nathan. Now, that decision felt like a lifetime ago. Even though I still felt a sense of the unknown having over me, it didn't feel as heavy. 

Through it all, Lou stayed by my side, her quiet optimism seeping into even the most anxious parts of me. She never brought it up unnecessarily, and she knew when I needed her to just be Lou—warm, distracting, full of life, filling the annex with her designs and sketches so I wouldn’t have to fill it with my nerves.

“What do you think of this?” She asked one evening, showing me a sketch. 

We’d been watching one of her childhood favorites, “Doctor Who,” while she absently drew in her sketchbook. 

I squinted at the design, pretending to have difficulty guessing what she'd drawn. “First of all, what is it? A blanket?” 

She laughed. “No! It's a shawl. A very high fashioned shawl.” 

I took a closer look. “Oh, I see it now,” I teased with a smile. 

“Whatever. One of these days, my designs will be displayed in the window of one of those ridiculously expensive shops in London. You'll see.” 

“Oh, I know they will. You, Louisa Clark, are going to be a brilliant success.” 

“Yes, and you will look devilishly handsome in all your new designer clothes at my side.” 

---

Pre-op was a blur of tests, questions, and assurances from the specialist, Dr. Rawlings. “Minimal risk,” he repeated like a mantra, but there was a tension in my stomach that reminded me just how little I trusted minimal risks. I’d been assured, of course, that this wouldn’t be the miracle everyone dreamed up for me—despite my constant warning not to get their hopes up. There would be no standing and no walking. The goal was pain management and a chance to regain a shred of sensation. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder if they had oversold it—this was their business, after all. I forced myself to stop overthinking; the decision had been made. But the stakes were higher than anyone understood.

The night before the surgery, Lou sat beside me on the couch, leaning into my shoulder, her fingers laced through mine. She stayed quiet, her presence enough. I squeezed her hand, glancing down at her. “No speeches tonight, Clark?”

She grinned. “I think you’ve got enough people telling you what to think.” She paused, eyes softening. “Just know that I believe in you. Completely.”

Then she leaned over and kissed me, and some of my worry faded. 

The morning was colder than I’d expected. Nathan walked beside me with his usual ease as I moved through the hospital doors. He cracked some joke I barely heard, and my focus centered on what lay behind the doors of the operation room. 

My parents and Lou trailed behind us, chatting softly. Lou increased her stride until she was on my other side, offering a nervous but reassuring smile. 

The treatment center felt like any other day at any other hospital—a place that smelled sterile, faintly of disinfectant and cold metal. But today, everything felt amplified. I was barely aware of the passing nurses and the whispers of others around me. Everything narrowed to this moment.

Dr. Rawlings met us in pre-op, where a thin blue gown and a maze of IVs awaited. “You ready, Will?” he asked, clipboard in hand, his voice even as always. He could have been asking if I was ready for a haircut.

“Born ready,” I replied, though my mouth felt dry.

Nathan and Lou assisted with removing my clothes and helping me into the gown. I tried to think of something clever to say, but my mind drew a blank. I suppose today was another day I couldn't do witty. 

Lou stood beside me, and her presence shifted something inside me. She reached out and smoothed an imaginary crease from my gown, the touch comforting.

“See you on the other side,” I murmured. She nodded, and I saw the trust, the absolute belief in her gaze. For that, I owed it to her to go in with hope.

“The procedure shouldn't take long,” Dr. Rowlings assured me as I was wheeled into the operating room by one of the nurses. 

The lights above me blurred, and  I could barely feel my heartbeat, as if I’d gone into a state of numb calm. The sterile smell became stronger as a mask lowered over my face.

“Count down from ten, Will,” a nurse’s voice came, soft and encouraging.

I counted, the numbers melting away as everything drifted into darkness.

---

When I woke, the world appeared fuzzy and out of focus. Sounds bled together in a strange rhythm, and I wondered where I was. My mouth felt dry, and my body was still heavy, the after-effects of anesthesia clinging to my senses. Was the procedure over already? I'd only made it to five before everything seemed to have disappeared. 

Slowly, the faces around me sharpened. I blinked, feeling the soft grip of Nathan’s hand on my shoulder. Lou was there, her face hovering over me, her eyes wide, expectant.

“Will?” she whispered, as if afraid to speak too loudly.

I managed a faint smile, nodding. Dr. Rawlings appeared at the edge of my vision, his expression calm but pleased.

“It went well, Will,” he said, like we’d just finished a game. “Better than expected, actually.”

I swallowed, feeling the relief rush over me. I was here. Alive. I glanced at Lou, who seemed to release a breath she’d been holding since they’d wheeled me away.

“We’ll monitor you, of course, but everything looks promising,” Dr. Rawlings continued. “You’ll have a few days here, and then we’ll see about getting you home.”

Lou squeezed my hand, her smile bright, and Nathan leaned in with a grin. “I knew you’d pull through, Mr. T. Now, how about that rest?”

I felt myself drifting back, but this time, there was no fear, only relief.

The next few days in the hospital flew by, and I couldn't wait to get home. If I had to eat another jello or pudding pack, I might have gone mad. My family was there supporting me. Lou and Nathan were constants at my side. 

As for the pain… we were still monitoring it, but I was pleased to report a lower number than I had initially given before the surgery. It wasn’t gone entirely, and I’d learned by now not to expect miracles, but there was something different—a subtle lightness I hadn’t felt in ages. It was as if a weight I’d carried for so long had finally lifted, just a fraction, but enough to make me wonder what else might be possible.

Lou caught me smiling to myself one afternoon as I drifted off. She squeezed my hand, her eyes bright with relief and pride. “I told you,” she murmured, “I knew you could do this.”

Nathan laughed from his chair by the door. “Looks like I’ll be back to lugging you around soon, Mr. T. Hospital’s got nothin’ on the comforts of home.”

“Home,” I muttered, the word almost foreign after these last few days surrounded by antiseptic walls and blinking machines. I glanced at Lou, who beamed back at me, already planning, I was sure, how to make my return nothing short of a hero’s welcome.

Finally, the morning arrived. Dr. Rawlings gave the all-clear, and I found myself sitting upright for the first time in days, Nathan and Lou gathering my things with a kind of light-hearted frenzy.

The drive home was quiet and peaceful. And as we pulled into the familiar courtyard of the annex, I felt a sense of relief like never before.

“How about take away?” My mother suggested while we gathered around the kitchen bar. “We can even video call George. She's been checking in every day.” 

I raised my brow, unable to hide my surprise. “Has she?” 

“Contrary to what she'll have you believe, your sister loves you,” Dad said. 

I turned down the corners of my lips, considering his statement. “You better not let her hear you say that.” 

Everyone laughed, and I watched my parents discuss where to order from. I noticed a sense of ease between them, a camaraderie I hadn't seen since I was a boy. Somehow, the separation had allowed them to be… friends again.

“How about Fletcher’s?” Mum asked. “You like Fletcher’s, right, darling?”

“You could have suggested ‘Pig N’ A Poke,’ and I would be happy. Anything is better than that bland hospital food.” 

“Just remember to take it easy, Mr. T. Have to keep your sodium levels low.” 

Right. So my blood pressure wouldn't spike. “I think I'll be fine tonight, Nathan. We’re celebrating. In fact, I'll have the prime rib and a lobster tail.” 

Lou and Nathan exchanged glances, and I tried not to let their caution irritate me. I knew my body better than anyone. I was fine. A steak and a lobster tail wasn't going to do me in. 

My mother ordered dinner, and while we waited, we chatted about the hospital and my treatments. They asked Lou about her classes, and she eagerly launched into stories about her new classmates and the projects she was working on. 

Forty-five minutes later, a delivery man rang the annex door, and we gathered around the table, containers of gourmet food covering the surface. 

“I’d like to propose a toast,” my mother said, holding a glass of wine. “To my extraordinarily brave son.” Her gaze met mine, and I saw a rare and unguarded softness there. “Will, you’ve faced more challenges than most could imagine, yet here you are, showing us what true strength looks like. You’ve taught me—taught all of us—how resilience can be quiet and how hope can live in even the smallest of actions.”

She paused, her voice catching slightly. “I know I don’t say it often enough, but I am incredibly proud of the man you are, Will. You inspire me daily to improve, and I am grateful to be here tonight, celebrating another year with you.” She smiled, her eyes glistening with a rare warmth. “To Will, with all my love.”

I blinked, realizing moisture had gathered in my eyes. I hadn't seen my mother this open in ages and didn't know what to say. 

“I second your mother's sentiments,” my father said. “Camilla, you've captured everything that I've wanted to say so eloquently. I can only add that I am grateful to have more time with you, son. Time that a year ago felt like a distant dream. But no matter what choices you make for yourself, know that your mother and I will support you.” 

“Thank you,” I croaked. 

“Here, here!” Lou said. “I'm not going to make a long, drawn-out speech because that food looks and smells delicious, and I know how Will gets when he's hungry.” She winked at me, and I laughed. “So, I'll say, here's to a successful surgery!” 

Everyone clinked their glasses, and Lou held my beaker of water up to my lips. Her eyes were bright with happiness, and I knew I made the right choice for both of us. 

Chapter 33: Lou

The days following Will’s surgery settled into a surprisingly calm rhythm. He was still recovering, and while he managed his pain and monitored his progress with Nathan’s help, I buried myself in my studies. My first major exam was coming up, and I wanted to do everything I could to prepare. I barely had time to breathe between Will’s recovery and my deadlines. But every time I looked up from my textbooks, Will was there with a steadying smile or a well-timed encouraging word. Somehow, he knew exactly when I needed a moment to reset.

One afternoon, I looked up from my notes--the words blur together. Will sat across the room, watching me with an amused look. “Lost in fashion equations again?”

I laughed, rubbing my temples. “If only they were as simple as equations.”

He moved closer, his voice a quiet encouragement. “You’re doing brilliantly, Clark. I’ve seen you tackle mountains of fabric and sketchbooks without batting an eye. This exam? Piece of cake.”

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “You make it sound easy.”

“It’s because I know you,” he said. “And because I have something special planned for you.”

I looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Oh? You’re being mysterious.”

“You’ll see,” he replied, a glint in his eye. “But you’ll need a bit of a break before then.”

The next morning, Valentine's Day, I found an appointment card at the breakfast table, a gift certificate for a day at a local spa, and a bouquet of roses. My mouth dropped open in surprise as I looked up at Will, who was enjoying the moment.

“Will!” I picked up the gift certificate. “A whole day? I can’t—”

“You can and you will,” he said firmly, smiling. “Your brain needs a rest, and you deserve some pampering. Go on, they’re expecting you in an hour.”

I slid into his lap and kissed his lips. “Why don't you come with me? We can make it a couple’s day.” 

He chuckled, kissing me back. “I would, but I wanted you to have a day on your own.” 

I nodded, too excited to put up a fight. Instead, I stood up and ran into my studio, returning a few minutes later with an oversized card and a long, thin garment box. Will lifted a brow and grinned. 

“I was going to wait until later this evening, but…” I opened the card, showing him the front, which featured two basset hounds leaning their heads against each other.  I read, “I'll love you furever. Happy Valentine's Day, love Lou.”

Will chuckled. “Which dog am I? The one on the left or right?” 

I turned the card around and studied the almost identical dogs. “Hmm, the left. He looks scrappy.”

 I placed the card aside and opened the box, revealing a tie and pocket square I made for him. I worked on it at night after Will fell asleep. It didn't take long to make, but I restarted it a few times, wanting it to be perfect. I thought about Will's days as a corporate executive and chose colors that exuded confidence—blue and gray in a striped pattern. 

“A Louisa Clark original,” I said, licking my lips. I studied his face, looking for any signs of dislike, but I only saw happiness. 

“It's wonderful, Clark!” 

I took his "good" hand so he could feel the fabric I used and rubbed his thumb against it. “Can you…?” 

“Yes! Yes, I can. Feels expensive. Looks expensive, too.” 

I laughed. “You're being kind.” 

“No, I'm being honest. I can't wait to wear it, Clark. Thank you.” 

I beamed at him, my face growing warm. 

“Now, you better hurry. You've got an appointment to make.”

The spa day was pure bliss. The moment I walked in, a sense of calm wrapped around me. A soft-spoken attendant led me through each treatment: a full-body massage that worked every knot from my shoulders, a facial that left my skin glowing, and a soothing manicure and pedicure. Between treatments, I sipped herbal tea in a room that smelled faintly of lavender and eucalyptus, my mind gradually letting go of exam stress. By the time I finished, I felt like a new person, relaxed in a way I hadn’t felt in months.

When I returned to the annex that evening, everything was still. I stepped inside, calling for Will, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, a typed note waited on the hallway table. 

“Go to the living room when you’re ready. Love, W.”

I kicked off my shoes and followed the note’s instructions. As I walked into the living room, a soft glow surrounded me. Twinkling lights draped across the ceiling, casting a warm, intimate glow over the room. White, pink, and red rose petals were sprinkled on the floor.  The entire annex looked like something out of a dream, like a starry sky had settled around us. My breath caught as I took it all in, feeling like I’d entered a private fairytale.

With a slight grin on his face, Will waited by the dining table, dressed in a crisp white shirt and the tie I made for him. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Clark.”

I could barely speak, overwhelmed by the setup. “Will… this is… wow.”

“Nathan helped before he had to go to his next client.” 

He gestured toward the table with his eyes. It was set with two place settings and dishes that looked like they’d come straight from a five-star restaurant. A chef stepped forward from the kitchen, smiling at us.

“This is Chef Thomas Grant,” Will introduced us. 

“Will planned the menu,” Thomas said with a wink. “I only executed his vision.”

I turned to Will, grinning. “So you’ve been holding out on me with your secret culinary genius?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted with a laugh, “but I can still tell them exactly how I like it.”

He moved to my side and gestured for me to take a seat. The chef brought out the first course—a delicate salad topped with thinly sliced figs, toasted nuts, and a balsamic glaze that glistened on the plate. Each course after that was equally incredible: seared scallops with a light citrus sauce, a perfectly cooked filet mignon with truffle mashed potatoes, and a dessert that looked like a work of art—chocolate mousse layered with fresh raspberries and a dusting of edible gold.

Between each bite, Will and I exchanged smiles and quiet laughter, savoring the moment. It was as if time slowed, giving us this private, perfect evening after everything we’d been through.

As the night wound down, I took Will’s hand in mine. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to top this, you know.”

He chuckled, brushing his thumb across my fingers. “Well, that’s kind of the plan, Clark. But don’t think for a second I’ll stop you from trying.”

I laughed, the warmth of his words wrapping around me as surely as the twinkling lights above. It was a night I’d never forget. 

Chapter 34: Will

Notes:

Warning: This chapter contains sexual content.

The early morning March sunlight filtered through the annex windows, casting a warm glow across the room as I focused on Nathan’s instructions. He sat across from me, watching my movements with unbreakable patience.

“Alright, Mr. T,” he said, holding a small, padded ball. “Let’s see what we can do here. Nice and slow, just like last time.”

I eyed the ball, my fingers twitching as I mentally rehearsed the motion. I’d done this exercise a hundred times, but something about it always seemed new—part challenge, part reminder of how far I’d come. Slowly, I concentrated on my fingers, willing them to wrap around the small ball Nathan held.

I tightened my grip, feeling a slight pressure as my hand closed around the soft foam. It wasn’t much, not by most standards, but the subtle satisfaction of each squeeze was impossible to explain to anyone who hadn’t been here. For just a moment, the world narrowed to that tiny motion, and I was reminded why we did this day after day.

Nathan nodded approvingly. “That’s it. Just hold it for a second longer... good. Now, release.”

Letting go was almost harder than gripping, my fingers hesitant to uncurl. But as they loosened, I felt a faint spark of something close to pride. 

“You're doing great,” Nathan's voice cut through the wall of concentration surrounding me. 

I drew in a breath and slowly let it out. “Thanks.” 

My lips curled into a slow smile. A few weeks ago, even something as small as this would have seemed impossible. Part of me wished Lou was here to see it, but I was determined to keep it a surprise. I wanted to see the look on her face the first time I squeezed her hand back. 

In the month since my surgery, I noticed physical gains in physio. But the true success was the reduction in my pain. On most nights, I could sleep until morning without waking up to intense burning or pins and needles stabbing through me. The first morning, Lou and I realized I had slept through the night, and we celebrated with a “proper breakfast.” 

“I know you must be relieved. No more having to interrupt your sleep to take care of me.” 

“Hush. I don't care about that,” she said, feeding me some eggs and fried tomatoes. “I'm happy you're not in as much pain. Sometimes, I feel so useless because there's nothing I can do but give you this stupid look.” 

She fixed her face into a worried expression, her eyebrows conveying most of her feelings, and I laughed. “Trust me, Clark, you do much more than that. Your support is enough. When you're around, it doesn't feel that bad.” 

She used her thumb to wipe the corner of my mouth. “Well, I suppose I'm useful after all.” 

Nathan took the ball from my right hand, and we worked on the left. There wasn't much progress there, but I wasn't expecting miracles. Still, Nathan and I followed the recommended exercises from Doctor Rawlings. I had a follow-up telehealth appointment in a few days, and I was eager to tell him about my progress. 

After physio, Nathan helped me dress. Lou was in London for class, leaving us until Nathan's next client later in the afternoon. While Nathan was away, my father planned on stopping by for a visit. I suppose it was out of habit by now. I hadn't felt suicidal since… well, since around the beginning of September of last year. 

“Looks like you're all out of juice and milk, Mr. T,” Nathan said from the kitchen. “I'll let Lou or your mother know so they can order some.” 

I glanced out the window. The morning fog had cleared, leaving a pale early spring day in its wake. I imagined the dewy air on my face and the smell of cut grass just beyond my doors. 

“We don't need to bother them with that. Let's go ourselves,” I said, surprising myself. “What else do we need?” 

Nathan turned to look at me, and I recognized the curious look on his face. This was the first time I'd suggested going out in public on my own. Before Lou, I never left the annex. After she came into my life, I would go out with her. Today would be the first time going to the market on my own since before my accident.

“Alright,” Nathan said. “Let's see… There's juice and milk. You need more bread.” 

He rattled off the list as I made a mental note of each item. We were in the car and headed to the market twenty minutes later. I stared out the window as Nathan pulled into a wheelchair-accessible parking space and cut the engine. My heart thrummed in my ears, drowning out the sound. 

No turning back now, Traynor. 

“I could run inside,” Nathan said, probably sensing my discomfort. 

I slowly released my breath. “No, I can do it.” 

He nodded before sliding out the driver's side. A few minutes later, I navigated my power chair into the store. There weren't many people shopping, but no one bothered to give me a second look as I moved up and down the aisle with a basket on my lap. Nathan helped fill it with the few items we needed for the house. 

“Treena loves these,” he said, holding up a package of biscuits. 

I grinned. Other than Karen, the woman he met during our holiday, Nathan had never spoken about any of the women he was seeing. I had always assumed he worked himself too hard to have time for dating. 

“So you two are getting on?” 

“Yeah. She's a nice girl. And Tom is a riot. Good kid.” 

I started to agree when something—or rather—someone caught my eye. At the end of the aisle, wrapped in spandex, stood Patrick with his fitness model girlfriend, Ellie or Kelly or whatever she said her name was. Our eyes connected, and seconds later, he was headed toward me with Ellie-Kelly trailing behind him. 

“Will. Fancy seeing you here,” Patrick greeted, nodding at Nathan. He held a bulk-sized container of whey protein in his hands, the label reading, “Double Dutch Chocolate”—the same brand I used to drink.

“Patrick,” I said evenly, meeting his gaze. He looked almost the same: fit, smug, practically glowing with post-workout energy. Ellie-Kelly hovered just behind him, offering me a tight-lipped smile before looking around the aisle, clearly not invested.

He glanced down at the protein powder and then at me, grinning. “Picked this up after my last triathlon—thought I’d reward myself for shaving a full four minutes off my time. Training’s been intense, but hey, can’t argue with the results, right?”

I forced a polite smile, feeling a flicker of something between envy and disdain. “Four minutes. Impressive.”

“Yeah, thanks. Mellie’s been helping me stay focused,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders as if she were a prize.

Oh, that's right. Her name was Mellie. 

 “She’s a sports nutritionist, so she knows her stuff. Couldn’t have done it without her.”

Mellie looked mildly embarrassed, murmuring something about his discipline as she glanced at me and then averted her eyes. Nathan shifted his stance, his expression neutral but his gaze flickering with quiet understanding.

“Good to hear,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, though something twisted in my chest—a reminder of what I’d lost and everything he took for granted. He looked fit in his workout clothes. Come to think of it, I don't think I ever saw him wearing anything else. He wore spandex like a badge of honor. 

“Anyway,” he added, glancing around as if searching for the next thing to conquer, “I’ll let you get back to it. Don’t want to interrupt your, uh, shopping trip.” He flashed another smile, a hint of pity lurking beneath it that set my teeth on edge. 

I didn't need his pity. God, part of me wished I had met Patrick three years ago. I’d like to see him hang gliding or taking on Kilimanjaro. 

“Right,” I said, meeting his gaze, refusing to let him see any flicker of irritation. “Enjoy your protein.”

Patrick gave a quick nod, then turned, tugging Mellie along as he left, the bounce in his step unmistakable. As he walked away, I felt Nathan’s steady presence beside me.

“He’s all flash, Mr. T. Don’t let him get in your head,” Nathan murmured.

I gave a slight nod, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I watched Patrick retreat, glancing down at my hand. He was probably on his way to his silly fitness club. 

Today, I squeezed a ball. 

---

“I went to the market today,” I said into the camera.

Doctor Hughes looked back at me, her expression unreadable yet attentive. “Is this your first time doing it independently since the accident?”

“Yes. But I wasn’t alone—Nathan came along.”

She nodded. “How did it feel, being out in public?”

I thought about my answer. “No one noticed me. I went in, bracing myself for stares, imagining a store full of people gawking at my chair. But it didn’t happen.”

“That’s a common worry,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve had experiences where your identity was shaped by how others reacted to your chair. So, naturally, you’d feel some apprehension about doing something so ordinary for an able-bodied person.”

I nodded slowly. “I had all these negative expectations, but it wasn’t bad. Mostly.” I paused. “Except… I ran into Patrick.”

Her brow lifted in curiosity. “Patrick?”

“Clark’s ex-boyfriend. I wish I could say I didn’t feel anything, but seeing him just… got to me. I look at him, and I see everything I can’t do. He’s this fitness fanatic—proud of it and never lets anyone forget it.”

“It feels as if he’s rubbing it in.”

“Yes. It’s like he represents what I used to be,” I said, feeling a twinge of frustration. “I mean, I’d never brag like him, but… I loved running, skiing, and climbing. I look at him and think, ‘Why me?’”

Doctor Hughes gave a slight nod, her gaze compassionate but unwavering. “That question—‘Why me?’—is one so many people wrestle with after a loss. Seeing someone who embodies your old life, especially if they don’t appreciate it like you did, can be incredibly painful.”

I exhaled. “Exactly. He lives for himself; fitness is his whole identity. But back then, I felt like I had a purpose—I wanted to do everything and push every boundary. And now, even just being in public feels like a hurdle. It’s hard not to feel… envy.”

“That envy is natural, Will,” she said gently. “It’s part of grieving the life you had, and it doesn’t mean you haven’t come a long way. What you’re doing now—learning to see yourself beyond that one identity—is a difficult, often painful journey. But it’s leading you toward a different kind of strength.”

I nodded slowly. “I know. I’ve been trying to focus on what I can do instead of what I’ve lost. But when I see Patrick, it’s almost like a reminder, a… taunt, that this is my reality now.”

“And that’s valid, Will. Every small step you take is part of rebuilding and redefining what makes you ‘you.’ And it’s okay to feel frustration and loss along the way—it’s all part of the healing.”

I shook my head, letting out a small, bitter laugh. “Healing. Sounds easy enough. But it’s ironic, really. Patrick’s bragging about his triathlon time, and here I am, proud of being able to squeeze a ball. It sounds pathetic when I say it out loud.”

Doctor Hughes leaned forward. “It might feel small compared to who you used to be or even compared to Patrick. But your achievements now are about a different kind of strength—one that takes resilience, not just physical effort.”

I thought about that, picturing the quiet satisfaction I’d felt earlier. “I guess that’s true. He may have his triathlons, but I have… this. It’s hard, sometimes, not to see what I’ve lost.”

Doctor Hughes gave me a steady look. “Do you worry that, because of what you’ve lost, Lou might be drawn back to someone like Patrick—or someone else who can give her that kind of life?”

I felt a pang in my chest, though I tried to keep my expression neutral. “I mean… I know she’s here with me. She chose this life.” I hesitated, then admitted, “But sometimes I wonder if she’ll tire of my limitations.”

“Those feelings are valid, Will,” she said gently. “Loving someone with a disability is a choice that takes strength, and it’s natural to question that. But from everything you’ve shared, Lou isn’t with you because of what you can or can’t do but because of who you are.”

“I know she’s not going anywhere. But it’s hard not to feel like… like she deserves someone who isn’t constantly weighed down by all this.”

Dr. Hughes gave a sympathetic nod. “It’s easy to question your worth in this new reality, but as you keep moving forward, remember that love isn’t about physical abilities or the lack of them—it’s about the connection and growth you’re building together.”

Doctor Hughes paused thoughtfully, then spoke in a gentle but focused tone. “Will, let’s try something. I want you to take a look at the thoughts you’re having about Lou and what you feel she ‘deserves.’ In CBT, we call these automatic thoughts—quick judgments or beliefs that might not be entirely accurate.”

I nodded, curious. “Alright. So, what do I do?”

“First, let’s break down your specific thoughts when you saw Patrick and his girlfriend. Can you put that feeling into a sentence?”

I thought back, picturing them in the aisle and hearing Patrick’s usual bragging. “I felt like… she deserves someone who can keep up with her, who isn’t held back.”

Dr. Hughes nodded. “Good. Now, let’s challenge that thought. If Lou were sitting here, what would she say?”

I thought for a moment, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “She’d probably say I’m being ridiculous. She’s always saying I worry too much about what I can’t do and not enough about who I am.”

“Exactly,” she replied, smiling. “That’s a very different perspective, isn’t it? This thought that Lou deserves someone else—it’s not a fact, Will. It’s a belief you’re holding onto because of how you see yourself right now. But what if you could recognize that, for Lou, you are the person who ‘keeps up’ with her emotionally, who offers her a kind of connection she values deeply?”

I exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release. I never thought about it like that. I had only considered what I can't do for her, not what I offered her. “So, instead of focusing on what I can’t do, I remind myself that Lou’s here because of who I am—not because I used to climb mountains?”

Dr. Hughes nodded. “Exactly. And over time, by challenging these thoughts, you can shift your focus to see that you bring far more than you might realize to those you love. It’s a process, Will, but it’s one you’re already making progress on.”

I fell silent, thinking back. A year ago, I hadn’t considered any of this. I’d convinced myself that I had nothing left to contribute without the life I’d built—without pushing my limits. Part of me still clung to that version of Will Traynor; I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to be that man again. But maybe I could be more than just his memory.

---

A few days after my session with Doctor Hughes on a chilly Thursday morning, Lou and I were awakened by her cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. I opened my eyes to see her reaching over and answering it with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Lou, it's Nathan.” I heard his muffled voice before Lou put the phone on speaker. He sounded terrible. “I hate to do this, but I feel like crap. I think I caught a bug.” 

“You sound awful,” Lou said empathetically and glanced at me. 

“I know. My throat is killing me. I hope it's not strep. Either way, I can't come in today.” 

“Of course, get some rest. I'll handle everything today.” 

“Are you sure? I can send someone from the agency.”

Lou glanced at me again, and I mouthed, “No.” 

“Positive,” she said. “You just worry about getting better, and we'll see you when you do.” 

“Thanks, Lou. You're a real lifesaver. Tell, Mr. T I'll I shouldn't be away for long.” 

“You can tell me that yourself,” I said loud enough for him to hear me. “There's no rush. Lou and I can manage. Just get better, mate.” 

“Thanks. Both of you. But if you need anything, give me a ring.” 

“We won't,” Lou and I said in unison, and she giggled before ending the call. 

“Oh, what are we going to do now, Mr. Traynor?” she asked, stroking my hair. “Looks like you're stuck with me for the next few days.” 

“I know. What a shame.” I gave her a teasing smile, and she snuggled against me. 

I closed my eyes, enjoying the heat of her body against mine. 

“Well, I could always call Nathan back and tell him to send someone over. Maybe someone in their mid to late sixties with graying hair who likes to be called Frau.” 

“Don't you dare. I much prefer a beautiful twenty-six-year-old with a unique taste in fashion and a penchant for knocking things over wherever she goes.” 

Lou tapped a finger against her chin. “Now, where would you find someone like that?” 

I laugh. “Come here, please. You're much too far away.” And to my delight, she moved even closer. 

“I'm sad Nathan isn't feeling well, but I love spending time with you alone. I hate having to share you.” 

“I feel the same. But share you, I must. You have class today.” 

Louisa frowned, her brows knitting together. “I could always play hooky. I haven't missed any classes, and we get one unexcused absence. I could cash that in today.” 

I hesitated. On one hand, I loved the idea of spending the day with Lou, but I didn't want her to miss valuable information by skipping class. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes. I know what you're thinking, but I can always ask Pipa and Gabe for notes.”

“Alright. Let's make a day of it.” 

Lou clapped her hands, breaking into a giddy smile. “We can watch movies and eat complete junk today.” 

“I'd like that.” We could spend the day watching paint dry, and it would be the best day of my life because I'd be doing it with Lou. 

Before I could say anything else, she rolled out of bed, and I admired how my T-shirt fell mid-thigh, revealing her creamy skin. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts swayed as she moved back and forth from the kitchen to my side of the bed. She helped me with my pills and water before transferring me to the power chair. 

Her scent filled my nostrils, clouding my senses, and I had the powerful urge to kiss her. I'd seen Clark exactly like this every morning, but all I could think about was lying in bed, feeling her lips on mine. I'm not sure what's come over me, but this morning it feels different. Perhaps it's knowing that Lou and I will have the annex to ourselves all day that's got me in rare form, or maybe it's because I didn't wake up in pain this morning. 

“Breakfast or shower first?” she asked, unaware of my thoughts. 

“Shower,” I said, sounding huskier than I intended. 

“Shower it is.” 

She led the way into the bathroom and transferred me from the power chair to the shower chair. She's helped bathe me a few times since October, and we're both used to the routine.  She even keeps a few swimsuits in the bathroom if Nathan comes after shower time. I waited patiently for her to change into her swimsuit—the skimpy one I like. I listened to her remove my T-shirt, letting it fall casually to the floor, and imagined her fantastic breasts, free and unfettered by clothing. 

If I weren't in this chair, I'd make love to Lou in the shower, bracing her against the wall as I wrap her legs around me. I'm just under six feet tall, and Lou is around 5’2. I used to call women like her “fun-sized.” God, I'd like to have fun with Lou right about now. 

“Ready?” She asks, appearing in front of me, and I blink my eyes. 

“Yes,” I croak, pushing the image of a naked Lou out of my mind. 

She quickly undresses me before helping me into the shower. The water is the perfect temperature—not too hot or cold. Lou climbs inside with me, and I watch as she starts lathering up my loofah with body wash. 

“What?” She asks with an innocent smile, making me almost guilty about my lecherous thoughts. 

I swallow hard. I think about all those mental exercises I've been working on. Instead of thinking about what I can't or used to do, I focus on what I can offer Lou now. I wanted her, and I wanted to show her how much. Maybe it didn't matter if we couldn't do things the traditional way—maybe we didn't need to. 

“Take off your swimsuit, Clark,” I demanded softly.

Her lips parted, and her eyes grew wide momentarily before the loofah fell from her hands and landed on the shower floor with a soft, wet plop. I watched as her hands moved the clasp of her bikini top, unable to look anywhere else as she freed her lovely breasts.

Water cascaded over her soft, creamy skin, and I admired her delicate pink nipples. She stood there for a moment, allowing me to look at her before her hands moved to the bikini bottom. She slid it over her hips and let it fall to the tiled floor.

I drew in a sharp breath, my eyes drinking her in from the top of her head to her pink-painted toes. She was lovely. And she was mine. As if sending my thoughts, she moved closer. 

“Wait, I want to look at you for a bit longer,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. 

She nodded. “I don't think I've ever been looked at like this before.” She laughed nervously. 

The idea saddened me that Lou had never felt desired or wanted like this before. 

“I can't see why not. You're lovely… any man who had the opportunity to see you like this and didn't take full advantage of it is a bloody fool.” 

“Will…” Lou said, and before I could catch my breath, she was hovering over me, her lips capturing mine. 

I kissed her deeply, and for a moment, it was only the two of us—a man and a woman in a shower together. I closed my eyes and felt her arms wrap around me as she lowered herself, straddling my thighs. I couldn't exactly feel it, but I knew what she was doing, and moments later, we were chest to chest. 

She kissed me again, nibbling lightly at my lips. “Is this alright?” 

“More than alright,” I said, my breath mingling with hers. 

She rubbed her nose against mine. “We could keep doing this, but…” she glanced down between our slick bodies.“I think you're ready.” 

My eyes widened. I hadn't even needed to take a pill. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the sensation building between us. I hadn't felt my erection, but now that Lou mentioned it, I realized it was there… so faint, I barely noticed it, but there was a slight stirring that came to life. 

“I am. Please, Clark…” I almost begged her. 

She kissed me again, and I was lost in heaven before I realized what was happening. My breath caught, and my heart pounded in my chest. I couldn't believe this was happening. 

Lou pressed her forehead against mine as she joined our bodies. “Here you are…” she breathed. 

I gazed into her eyes and saw naked desire reflecting at me. “Here I am,” I repeated in awe. She began to move slowly and deliberately, her gaze never leaving mine, and I could almost feel her warmth surrounding me.