Hate You Not
Maybe he really doesn’t want me here…or maybe he just feels like total crap.
“I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad.” I loosen his boot laces and slip them off, then lean against the mattress and pull the covers over him a little. “Are you hungry?” I ask. I inhale a new paint smell; I’ve always loved the smell of fresh paint. “I can order some delivery for us.”
He shakes his head, then curls his long form into sort of a C shape.
Damn.
After just a second feeling unsure, I climb into bed with him and lie on my back beside him. There’s a little noise from him—maybe a groan—and my heart feels like somebody’s squeezing it.
“June?” he rasps.
I scoot closer to him…wrap my arm over his back so that I’m sort of, kind of hugging him.
“Are you okay?” I whisper. “Is my arm okay here?”
Waiting on his answer seems to take forever. Then he murmurs, “I like it.”
I rub my hand over his broad back, lightly tickling. “Is your back hurt bad anywhere?” He shakes his head, so I press gently into the ridges of muscle around his spine.
Burke lets out a little moan.
“I’m still mad at you, but I hate seeing you hurt,” I confess.
A little shiver jerks through his hard body. “Sorry.” It’s half-groaned.
“We don’t need to talk about that right now. We’re good,” I lie.
He covers his face, then shifts around a few times, seeming obviously uncomfortable.
“How about some Advil? I’ve got water in this purse, too.”
He pushes up on one elbow, still facing the windows, with me at his back, and I drop two pills into his outstretched palm. He swallows water from the bottle I hand him, and I take it from him, twisting the cap back on.
Then I push my pride aside and snuggle up to him again. I shut my eyes and think about our baby, and I think about Burke falling through some warehouse ceiling, waking up confused and asking for me.
Poor darlin’. I’ll be mad and demand answers just as soon as he feels better. It’s not like I’m over it, but I can’t not take care of him when he’s like this. I wrap an arm around his shoulder, hold his back against my chest, and lightly stroke his dark hair. Like we’re good friends. Like he’s my little baby’s daddy. Like he still has a piece of my heart.
He’s asleep in minutes—so soundly that I order takeout food and get it from the door without so much as a twitch from him. I eat my sandwich, roll his bowl of soup and loaf of bread up in the paper bag, and lie back down, sending Leah a brief text so she won’t worry before my eyes shut, and I start drifting toward dreamland myself.
Sometime seconds or hours later, Burke jerks up, breathing hard and murmuring about police.
His eyes are peeled wide, and he looks afraid, so I touch his arm. “Hey, babe. You’re okay.”
He wraps his arms around himself, looking pretty pitiful with that white bandage over his eye.
“I got some soup delivered. Nice and warm. You want some?”BURKEI don’t know how, but when June spoons soup into my mouth, I manage to choke it down. I can’t stomach much. When I’m finished, I lie back on my side, facing the window, where I focus on vague shapes of light through the curtains. Everything’s still blurry. Less and less so all the time, but I hate being here when I can’t see well. So it’s best to focus on the window.
June lies on her back beside me at first. She does something on her phone, I think, and then clicks the light off. After a while of us just breathing in the quiet room, she lets a breath out and she curls herself behind me.
“Do you hate me?” I manage.
She leans her forehead against my nape. “I could never hate you, Burke.”
I take a few deep breaths, trying to steady my voice. “I owe you an explanation, June. That’s why I brought you here. But…I don’t want to give it to you.”
When she doesn’t answer, I turn over so I’m facing her. I reach out and touch her face. “I have no right to…”
Her thumb traces my jaw. It’s covered with two days of beard growth. She looks into my eyes—my eye—and I think I get a feel for her expression even though it’s sort of blurry.
“When I’m with you, it doesn’t matter…common sense doesn’t, I mean. Do I hate that? Sort of.” Her voice quakes a little on that word. “But that’s just how some things are. I started thinking how some people just feel so familiar. When you meet them, it’s like they’re already yours. Happened when I first met Leah. Like we’d been best friends before, and there she was again; it was just natural. Sort of felt that way with you, too. As soon as I stopped wanting to slap you silly, I just…cared about you.” She squeezes her eyes shut, inhales, and then covers her face with one curved hand. “Certain people bring out certain things. Sometimes you can’t control it. Maybe it’s our duty to endure that kind of feeling. Price of having bonds with people we love.”