Chicks, Man
Page 99
I laugh and roll off the bed, wincing as I straighten out. I stretch my neck to peek over my shoulder. Blood seeps from a few bandages. Shit. Unlike Hannah’s apparent hot nurse, mine was a behemoth man pretending to be a woman. Shivers run down my spine at the thought of her impending anger.
“Hey, you okay?” Hannah grabs my hand.
I bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her delicate skin. “Never better.”
“Minus the bleeding. Big Bertha’s gonna kick your ass for that. She specifically told you not to move.” Chase shakes his head. Hannah’s eyes grow wide, worry cascading across her beautiful blues. I could kick his ass for that.
I kiss her hand once more. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Have you seen Big Berth—”
“Shut up, Chase,” both Kip and Stacey chime in.
I bend down to kiss Hannah’s lips when a deep voice resonates around the room. “There you are, young man.” I pause and look to the right, as does everyone else.
“Whoa.” The word is spoken in unison by all.
“Fucking told you all,” Chase says, crossing his legs.
“Look what you’ve done. Now we have to undress you and re-patch you.” She comes at me, and I won’t lie when I say I shudder a little bit. Stacey’s mouth hangs open while Kip laughs at me. Glad that fucker finds this funny. “You come with me this instant. Don’t make me tie you to the bed.”
Kip loses it, busting out laughing, while Stacey finally gives in and chokes out a giggle. Bertha comes at me, and I wave my white flag before she takes matters into her own hands and tries to carry me back. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” I turn to Hannah, gifting her my most charming smile. “We’re not done here.”
Hannah
One week later…
I’m anxious. There’s chaos in my room. Kipley, Mom, Dad, and my nurse all crowd the small space, but my focus won’t pull away from the door.
Where is he?
Doubt eats away at me, nipping at all the spoken promises. Was this all a dream? He’s not coming back. My fingertips are tender from biting my nails, the taste of blood on my tongue as I chew through my cuticles. I rip them from the thin line of my lips. My hands are jittery, so I tug on the clothes my mom brought me to wear home. I swipe my clammy palms down my favorite pair of yoga pants, but they feel rough and loose around my hips. The doctor said I’ll gain weight back in no time, but I’m not worried about being too thin—“too frail” as my mother whispered to my dad—I’m afraid of him not coming back.
After a week of being in the hospital, Levi was released yesterday. He said he’d be back for me, but he hasn’t come back. Swipe after swipe, I brush my hands down my yoga pants to distract myself, but the looming fear doesn’t dissipate. My shirt is suddenly too heavy against my ribcage. I pull it away from my chest, needing my lungs to expand. I’m having trouble breathing.
He’s not coming back.
“Honey, relax.” Mom pats my shoulder, mistaking the pounding of my heart for nerves about being released today. I don’t correct her.
“I am relaxed,” I lie. I’m far from it. My mind flickers back to the last week. The in-depth conversations we’ve had. The confessions of love and promises. He wants a future. He wants kids. He wants me. Then why isn’t he here? Maybe he fed me the words I wanted to hear to help me heal. Cushion the guilt that’s tearing him up inside. Even after I vowed he wasn’t to blame and told him I didn’t hold him responsible for anything that happened. Maybe he…maybe he…
“Baby girl, you’re all set. They just need to go over your follow-up care and we can get you home.” I want to scream that I don’t care about my follow-up care, the importance of taking it slow and starting a regiment with a counselor about working out my traumatic experience—I just want him. I stare up at the clock. It’s a few minutes after ten in the morning. It’s been fourteen hours since he left. Enough time to reconsider. He’s realizing he made a mistake.
He’s not coming—
“Sorry I’m late.” Levi hustles through the door. As if I was the only one in the room, his eyes find mine, locking us in an intimate visual embrace. My cheeks flush with shame. All his honesty, and I doubted him. He eats up the distance between us as I capture my lower lip between my teeth, biting down in hopes it reroutes my emotions and keeps my tears at bay. He pulls me into his arms, and I immediately find comfort in his presence and snuggle my face into his chest. He smells freshly showered.