I shake my head.
“Your dad said you were in shock. Sometimes it happens when you break a bone. You woke back up and…I think it wasn’t pleasant.” He winces. “I heard you from the waiting room.”
“Oh, wow.”
“I think they gave you something for pain, and after that, they had to move your ankle. I was in there for that part.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Your father got you green-lighted through everything, so there wasn’t a lot of waiting. You’d had some good drugs by then, and I don’t think you could feel anything. So they re-aligned your ankle. Your mom was there, too. They both wanted you to stay tonight. It seemed like they just wanted to be cautious.” He looks down, seeming uncomfortable. Then he looks back up at me. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.” He hesitates. “You asked me to stay with you.”
My stomach does a slow roll. “I did?”
He smirks a little. “Buyer’s remorse?”
“I don’t remember. But…no. No remorse.”
The door opens, and a nurse comes in. She gives me something in my IV, or she tries to, but I stop her. “I feel weird. Will that make me feel more weird?”
“What do you mean?” She frowns.
“Like there’s something bad…in here. I know there’s really not. Like, everything’s okay.” My voice cracks. “But…I don’t want to feel weird. I only want some Tylenol.” I tear up, and Landon nudges my arm.
“Who you calling something bad?” His tone is teasing.
“Let me check the orders,” the nurse says. “I’ll give your mom a buzz. She stepped into surgery, but I’m thinking Toradol instead. That way you can feel a little more lucid. Okay?”
I’m confused about what she said, but I nod, because I think I like it. When she leaves, I cover my face with my hand and look at Landon through my fingers.
“I’m embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” he says quietly.
I rub my leaking eyes. When I move my hand, he’s still looking at me. His eyes make me feel warm, but I still feel weird, too.
“Will you…hold my hand? For just a minute?”
Six
Landon
Seeing Evie hurt like this is fucking getting to me. I wish I could fix it for her, but I can’t do anything. Holding her head in my lap on the drive to the hospital, seeing her eyes close, feeling her shiver—that shit scared me. When I laid her on the table in the triage room and she passed out, I got shooed back out into the ER. That was worse.
I’ve watched her cry, recoil, and mumble in her sleep all night, and half the time, I’ve barely kept myself from shoving my fist through a wall. But she wants me here. For some reason, she said she wanted me to stay.
When her father had to go get Emmaline, Evie’s mom seconded the idea that I stick around, so someone would be here if she got called into surgery. Which she did—about an hour ago.
I fold Evie’s hand in both of mine. I think of rubbing it, but I’m not sure that would feel good. My hands are rough, a lot rougher than hers.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Ev. You’re tough as fuck. Just keep hanging in there.” My words sound hollow and stupid. I wish I knew what to say.
“I want to go home,” she whispers.
“I know.” I exhale slowly. Don’t I know.
“Why do I feel weird?” she whimpers.
“It’s probably what the nurse said. You had morphine earlier.”
“I don’t like it.” Her voice is soft and sad and sweet. I rub my thumb over the top of her hand.
“I’ll be sure you don’t get any more, then. Think of me as your guard dog.”
“I always thought…you looked a little like a gray-eyed dog.” She giggles, and I think the morphine is still working. Then she sighs. “I feel…wired. But not sleepy. I want to go home.” She moves her IV’d hand off her face and smooths her blanket with her fingers. “I was watching you…earlier.”
“You were?”
She nods, her eyes on my face for just a second before dipping back down. “You got hit by Pax’s elbow.”
“Ah. You saw that?” Pax’s elbow didn’t hit me; I ran into him. I haven’t slept in half of forever, and it really threw me off out on the field today.
“Did it hurt?” Her voice is soft and kind. It makes something tighten in my chest.
“Is that what made you fall? You got distracted by that?” Her wide eyes tell me “yes.” I blow my breath out. “It was no broken ankle.”
I want to pick her hand back up, but it’s on her lap. Instead, I touch her forearm with my fingertip. “I broke a bone before, you know.”
“You did?” She wipes her eyes. “Which one?”
“My arm. The distal radius.”
“Which bone is— wait, I know.” She smiles a little. “It’s the one on the thumb side.”
“It is.”
“How did you break it?”
“I was running through a house. Wiped out. Slipped on a car or Lego or some shit.” I shrug.
“And then what?”
“Then it healed.” I swallow.
“Can I see it?”
I stretch out my left arm. Evie holds her palm up, and I rest my hand on hers. Using her IV’d hand, she turns my hand over, so she can see the inside of the wrist.
“Oh no,” she murmurs. Her finger trails over the six-inch scar. “How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“Oh, that’s even sadder. You’re a righty,” she says, her voice rising in inflection, like she’s asking.
“Yep.”
She nods, like she approves of this, as if she’s glad it wasn’t my right arm that got hurt. “Does this hand ever hurt?”
I shake my head.
She traces the scar again, and I can see her finger shaking. “Were you here a long time?”
I stop breathing, then I notice that I’ve done it, and I take a long, slow breath. “Not really.” It takes focus to keep my voice steady and nonchalant.
“That’s good, then. I hope who you were staying with was super nice to you.”
I grit my molars, breathing deep and slow as I nod.
“Good. I’m glad. I don’t like to think about you…in those different places.” She sounds sleepy. Her eyelids are closing when I look back at her.
That’s a good thing, because I don’t have anything to say.
Evie
I open my eyes in time to see him lift his cheek up off the side of my mattress. In an echo of a memory, or a dream, I think I hear him gasp. Landon gasped; I feel sure that’s what woke me up. He stands so fast, the chair beside my bed wobbles. Then he makes a beeline for the door.
“Landon?”
He turns to me. I can’t see his face, because it’s so dark.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. To get water.”
His voice sounds casual, but I can see his shoulders rise and fall, as if he’s breathing hard.
“Will you come here?”
He’s at my bedside in two long strides, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at me. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the dark, I can see his face, and it looks strangely blank.
“Is something wrong?”
“What? No.”
But…I don’t know if I believe him. His eyes are abnormally wide, his torso too upright and tense. He blinks, and in the green light of my IV pole, I see something shiny.
“Landon…” My stomach clenches. “Are you crying?”
He drags a hand over his eyes and gives a laugh. “I’m allergic to lemons.”