“That maybe if he wasn't smacking you around all the time, you'd heal faster. Something like that, anyway.”
“Holy shit,” I murmured. I swallowed hard and wished I could run my hand through my hair.
“Yeah, he threw me out then,” she said. “Called hospital security and said I wasn't allowed to visit you again. Once you were out of ICU, I managed to sneak in with Jeremy and Rachel for a few minutes, but we were caught when the nurse came in.”
“You shouldn't have done that,” I told her.
“He needed to know,” she said. “He can't keep everything a secret.”
“He has a lot of secrets to tell, too,” I whispered. When she kept asking, I finally told her he had the pictures, and that's why I had to break up with her.
“You should have told me,” she said when I was done. “We could have worked it out together.”
“I didn't want to take the chance,” I admitted. “If he found out, Nicole, he wouldn't hesitate to ruin you. I couldn't let that happen.”
“Is that why you said all that shit on the phone?”
“Yeah.” I cringed. “I'm sorry—I didn't mean any of it.”
“He was there with you, wasn't he?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought so.”
I looked back at her and just stared at her face for a while, trying to figure out how I could have been so stupid. At the time, it seemed like the best idea, but now I wasn't so sure.
“I'm sorry,” I said again and then yawned.
“Me too,” she replied. “I think you need to rest.”
I could only nod, and I turned my head so it rested against the pillow, but it was still fucking uncomfortable.
“I hate this pillow,” I grumbled, and Nicole snickered.
“I don't think hospitals spend a lot of extra cash on down,” she replied.
I wanted to respond. I wanted to tell her that despite all the shit we were going to have to go through, this was going to be a new beginning for us.
I fell asleep instead.
“I want Nicole Skye to be able to visit me,” I said to Doctor Winchester as he checked over the various tubes inserted into me.
“Hrmph,” he replied. “I heard she was here yesterday.”
“I want her to be able to come back without taking shit for it,” I told him. “I’m eighteen—I should be able to say who can see me, right?”
“Theoretically, yes,” he said, “though I don’t think your father would agree.”
“I don’t care.” I hoped I sounded more sure of myself than I felt.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said with a smile.
Dad did not agree.
“That bitch is the reason you are here in the first place!” he said after the room cleared out. “She isn’t coming in here again!”
“I want her to,” I said again. I didn’t look at him, just kept staring at my hands lying on my stomach.