Polly’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I heard about this afternoon. Cancer’s hard on everyone, darlin’; sometimes you need a little space. I won’t call if you agree to this: when he gets here, you hug him tight, then you get some sleep. Your job right now is getting better. Nothing’s more important than that.”
I nodded, but didn’t release her hand when she stood. She sat back down. “I’ll wait with you until Ryan comes. It’s all right. Sometimes you just need a good cry. You’ve been brave for so long, it’s about time you cracked. Let it out.”
When Ryan arrived my face was splotchy and tear stained; the shoulder of Polly’s scrubs was damp and rumpled. After he’d stopped at the sink to scrub his hands, she turned me over to him, saying, “She’s had quite the day. Try and get her to calm down.”
Ryan climbed up beside me. “Mia?” My name was a question and the next move was mine to make. I fit myself into the U of his arm, buried my face in his chest, and spilled sobs and confessions in tangled gasps.
“I’m so tired of this, Ryan. All of it. I’m tired of fighting so hard to be healthy and trying to look brave. I’m not brave. I’m scared. Meagan’s brother, Max, died. What if that’s me? I don’t know how to do this anymore. It’s too hard. I’m so scared.”
“Shh, baby, shh. It’s okay.” His arm around my shoulders tightened.
Polly came in with a sedative and I obediently sipped, swallowed, and blew my nose in the tissue she held out like I was a toddler. “Enough of that for today. Rest now. I’ll be back to check on you.”
“Rest,” I echoed, already impatient for the sedative to fuzz my vision and words. But before they did, there were things I needed to say, gratitude I needed to express. He was trying so hard and being so much more than I ever imagined. I needed to give him credit, but lacked the words to say it right. “Ryan, I’m sorry about earlier. Thanks for coming. I really needed you.”
“All you had to do was ask.” He touched his forehead to mine and shut his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.
“I’m here. Right here.” It became a mantra. Ryan whispered it to me as he rubbed my back. I stopped fighting the sleeping pill and surrendered to its escape.
Chapter 35
My temperature was edging above 103 when the nurses took it before seven the next morning. They hesitated a moment, eyes flickering to Ryan as he blinked himself alert. He wasn’t used to waking up to an audience.
“He stays,” I rasped. His presence meant yesterday’s damages hadn’t been part of my horrible fever dreams. Max had died; Hil had yelled; Gyver had left. Everything was blurry and surreal. I hiccupped.
“Is she okay?” asked Ryan as the nurses frowned and paged the doctor.
“No kissing,” teased Mark, but his smile was flat. “This is more than the flu. We’re going to need to do a full blood workup.”
“I’ll call her parents,” said Business Nurse.
Mark drew blood, then the nurses were gone in a rush of rapid-fire medicalese.
“Is it always this crazy in the morning?” Ryan rubbed his eyes.
“Sometimes.” My head felt so heavy; I rested against his chest and asked, “Will your mom freak out that you didn’t go home?”
He shrugged. “She’ll just think I stayed over at the party. No big deal.”
Ryan leaned his chin against my forehead. Instantly he jerked away. “Baby, you’re burning up. Your shirt is soaked.”
“I’m too tired to change.” I shut my eyes. “I just want to sleep.”
The sunlight hit my room with stinging brightness. Everything looked pointed and sharp. I wanted the curves and buffer of unconsciousness.
“Two minutes. Change and wait for your meds, then you can sleep.”
“You’ll stay?”
“They’ll have to pry me away.”
I willed my eyes open and relaxed my fingers from Ryan’s shirt. He opened the closet and unzipped my suitcase.
“Pick one that buttons. My IV.” I made a weak gesture toward my port.
“Got it.” Ryan selected a green paisley pajama top. “Do you need pants?” He held out a red-and-blue-striped pair.
“No.”
He put an arm around my shoulders to help me sit up when my trembles made it clear I couldn’t do it alone. I leaned against him and lifted shaky hands to my buttons. Why were they so hard to undo? Had the buttons grown and the holes shrunk? My fingers were clumsy.
Ryan gently pressed them out of the way. Shifting his arm on my back and sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands—most at home when shooting three-pointers—were soft as kisses as he unfastened the buttons on my sodden top. He held the cuff so I could pull my right hand out of the sleeve, then traded support arms and peeled it off my back, carefully freeing my left hand. The cool air hit my damp skin and I began to shiver, hugging my arms across my chest, too cold and weary to be embarrassed.
“This probably isn’t how you imagined seeing me topless.” I tried to joke, but my teeth chattered and mangled the words.
He helped thread my arms through new sleeves. “Plenty of time for that when you’re better.” He was being so careful and his fingers brushed like whispers, but still left aching pathways on my fevered skin.