Say You Swear

“Course you were.” Mason clears his throat. “I think that all sounds good. I’ll have Cameron pack you some things tonight, have it ready for tomorrow.”

Worry pulls at my dad’s brows, but he nods, putting his hand on my mom’s back as she stands.

“Me and Dad can hit the stores, stock the fridge and things.” My mom nods, anxious. “But if you think I’m going home, you’re crazy. I’ll stay in our condo down the beach.”

I reach out, squeezing her hand. “I figured you’d say that.”

She winks, and then they’re all on their feet, visiting hours almost over for the day, and now that I’m no longer critical, the standard rules apply. Honestly, it’s a relief and admitting that makes me feel guilty, but they see my heavy eyes and tell me to rest. It comes from a place of love, but if they knew the way my stomach turns at the thought of nightfall, they’d worry themselves to death.

So, as they say their goodbyes, I put on a mask of ease, but the minute they’re gone, it slips away, anxiousness crippling me.

Soon, all the lights will be out and no chatter will come from the halls. The nurses won’t shout out from their stations but speak quietly among themselves.

The floor will fall silent and exhaustion will bleed in.

I hate it.

The mere thought of sleep is terrifying.

What if I close my eyes and lose more?

What if I close my eyes and they never open?

What if they open and I don’t even know who I am?

Right now, I’m still me, just missing a couple pieces.

What if tomorrow I’m a stranger stuck in Arianna Johnson’s body?

Dropping my head back, I push away the tears with a growl.

A light tap has me jolting upright, surprised when it’s Noah I find in the doorway, a plastic bag in his hand.

“Casper getting on your nerves again?” His tone is tense, but warm.

I blink away the moisture. “Yeah, he’s being a dick. Keeps pouring water in my eyes. I’m kind of sick of it.”

A low chuckle leaves him, and he nods, as if understanding what I mean.

I’m sick of crying.

“I brought you something.” He hesitates in the doorway a moment, but when I say nothing, he walks in.

He hands me the bag, and slowly, I reach out to take it.

“What is it?”

“A little something to get you through the night.” He turns for the door, but something has me calling out.

“You don’t have to leave… unless you want to.”

He doesn’t look back at first, and when he does, there’s a heaviness that settles over the room.

He doesn’t want to leave; I can sense it.

How can I sense it?

I clear my throat. “You could wait until someone comes to kick you out? Shouldn’t be too long.”

Slowly, he nods, his hands sliding into his hoodie pocket as he comes closer, taking the seat beside me.

He watches me closely as I reach into the bag, pulling out a pair of earbuds and an old iPod.

Warmth washes over me and I look to him. “You brought me music?”

His eyes hold mine. “Thought you might need to get lost for a little while.”

How do you know I can’t sleep? That music will help?

How do you know what I need?

“Thank you,” I whisper, and when I get the thing turned on and the earbuds hooked up, I pass him one.

Noah keeps his gaze on mine as he slides it into his ear, and I drop back against the bed. I press play, and three chords in, my eyes close, the story playing out behind them.

Something settles within me, and my breaths grow deeper, fuller.

“It’s so good to see that man finally getting some sleep.”

I look up to find Nurse Becky coming in, unsure of how much time has passed, but it must have been a while, because when I look to Noah, I find he’s asleep, his hand lying on top of my mattress, at my side.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I know visiting hours are over.”

“You’ve got the whole room to yourself; they won’t bother you.” She waves a hand, her jacket hanging over her arm. “Besides, I’m off the clock, just wanted to pop in and say goodbye in case I don’t see you tomorrow before you go.”

“Thank you for all you did for me.”

“It was my pleasure. It was nice to see such a loving family, it’s sad how rare that is in here.” She sighs, smiling as she looks over at Noah. “And that man, he didn’t leave your side.”

My stomach sucks in. “He didn’t?”

She shakes her head, staring at him with a motherly notion. “Poor thing only closed his eyes for an hour or two a day the whole time you were unconscious, and even less the last couple days while he was hiding out in the waiting room down the hall. If he wasn’t in that shower, he was right there in that chair, as restless as a kid on Christmas Eve.”