The nurse frowns like he thinks I’ve got a few screws loose, so I nod as if it makes sense to me.
If I was worried and upset before I got here, nighttime only makes me feel worse. Burke seems barely conscious, murmuring in his sleep and tossing and turning. I guess when he moves, it hurts his head or maybe his eye, because each time he shifts around, he groans.
I ended up standing right beside his bed for what feels like eternity—twice even climbing into bed beside him because he’s having so many nightmares. When his good eye does blink open and he looks up at me, I’m not sure if he can see me. He whispers my name a few times, but doesn’t hug me, grab for my hand, or address me in any other way.
It seems too soon when they say we can leave the next morning. He doesn’t seem well at all.
“He’ll be seen by the ophthalmologist in two days. We made the appointment.” The day nurse gives me the details for it and warns me, “He can’t go to work at a construction site—not for a few weeks.”
I nearly laugh but manage to nod. “I’ll be sure.”
I step out of his room to get a snack, and when I get back, find him sitting on the hard recliner in the clothes I guess he must have had on when he fell—Carhart-type tan work pants and a black T-shirt, plus gray steel-toed boots. I notice the boots look somewhat new, and also that they aren’t laced.
I feel relieved when I glance up to find his gaze on my face.
“You want me to tie them?” He looks down at his lap, and my heart falls. “I can.”
I kneel in front of him and remind myself it’s just basic kindness—this between us right now. It’s strange tying such big shoes. It takes me a minute longer than it should because my hands are trembling just slightly. Finally, I’m finished. As I start to stand, his hand closes around my shoulder.
“June?”
I look at him. His face is a mess—pale and bruised in places, and partly covered by the gauze that’s taped over his eye—and he looks thinner than he did when I last saw him last in Heat Springs. He just looks at me for a minute, his shoulders rising and falling a few times, like he’s breathing maybe just a little quickly. His jaw tightens.
“You can leave,” he whispers.
“You want me to go?” I have to swallow to draw more air into my lungs.Chapter 29June“I said you can,” he rasps. “Not that you have to.” He swallows then, wincing as if maybe his throat is sore.
“Do you want me to? Because if you do, I’ll just…” I trail off because his gaze on me feels focused for the first time since I got here.
“I don’t remember asking them to call you,” he says, rubbing his forehead. He looks at me again. “They said I said it when I woke up.”
“You fell through a building and then gave someone my phone number?”
“I don’t know.” His lips press together, and he looks down at his lap again. He seems so tired and hurt—even sitting in the chair, it’s like he’s drawn into himself in some way that’s hard to describe.
“If you want me to stay, can you just tell me you do?” I don’t mean to tear up, but my hormones and the stress have been wreaking havoc on my emotions.
I can see shock hit his face—shock, or maybe it’s concern. “Don’t cry, June.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me against his legs. “Whatever you do,” he says roughly, “don’t cry. Do you want to go home?”
I wipe my eyes, shake my head.
Burke’s palm cups my head. I feel his fingers in my hair, and then he’s standing. I take his hand, and together we walk to the nurses’ station, where a wheelchair and someone to push it are just rolling up.When we get in my rental car, he gives me an address to put into my GPS and then reclines his chair and shuts his eyes. He stays like that—quiet and still, seeming either tired or in pain—as I drive us to an area of San Francisco that’s clean-looking, urban, and obviously monied.
There are big trees on every corner, fancy street lamps, sidewalks made of cement that look freshly poured, and houses in a lot of different styles of architecture. Some are more like townhouses, others small and angular and modern. All the yards are professionally landscaped with lush green grass, and all the streets feel homey. But there are also wider boulevards lined with sleek office buildings, shopping centers with a bunch of fancy stores I’ve never heard of, and nice, wide bike lanes that run along the city bus routes.