In Front of Me

by Dana LeCheminant

  Relief washed over me. “So you didn’t…?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish that question. How low had Steve gotten?

  He shook his head, dropping his hand but keeping a firm hold on mine. “As soon as I realized there was still someone who wanted me in this world,” he whispered, “I couldn’t. Bren is literally the only reason I’m still alive. Well, Bren and you, Lissa.”

  My heart skittered a bit, but then his eyelids drooped. “You should get some sleep,” I said, gently setting his hand back on the bed.

  “You should too,” he replied as half his mouth twisted into a smile. “But you probably won’t do that, will you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then at least go get some food,” he said, making the warmth in my chest grow. How could I have ever thought he wanted me to leave when he looked at me like that? “I’ll be here when you get back.”

  * * *

  I hadn’t eaten anything since Steve’s Steak Benedict, and though I knew I needed to get something in me, my stomach was still slowly untangling itself from the knots it had twisted into during those hours I wondered if Steve was still alive. Day-old mac and cheese from the hospital cafeteria just didn’t seem all that appetizing after the week I’d had.

  He was going to be okay. I had to keep telling myself that over and over as I pushed my food around my plate, my head resting in my hand and my body aching and sore. Despite everything he had been through, I was quickly learning Steve was a fighter. This little setback would likely just make him stronger, and I wouldn’t have to spend the rest of my life wondering if he was still alive and kicking. He was going to be okay.

  I had to wonder what would happen to him now. Maybe he needed another week of supervision. Maybe they would just keep him at the hospital until they were sure he’d sustained no other damage. I hoped not. Being subjected to this food was bad enough, but Steve didn’t need to be cooped up. He needed to be outside in the fresh air, relearning how to live in a different light. Maybe he couldn’t see like he used to, but that shouldn’t stop him from living the life he loved.

  If they sent him home, if he needed someone to look after him, would they trust me to do it again? I’d nearly gotten him killed because I didn’t look closely enough at the signs. But the bigger question was would Steve even want me to? We’d become friends over the last several days, but I think I annoyed him more than I should. I forced him to eat, and I pushed him to be better and break through barriers he’d put up himself. If I were him, I’d rather count on myself to make me change, not some lunatic who had somehow managed to fall for my roommate after a single brunch date.

  A brown paper bag suddenly appeared on the table in front of me, and I stared at it in alarm before I realized someone had set it there and it hadn’t just popped up out of thin air. “I thought you might want some real food,” Brennon said softly, taking the chair opposite me.

  I sat up, blinking away the dryness in my eyes before I peeked inside the bag. “What is it?” I asked as I reached in and pulled out the best-looking hamburger I had ever seen.

  “You haven’t had a burger until you’ve had the Maverick,” Brennon said with a little smile.

  I had to take a bite before the sight of it put me into a food coma, and it was still sizzling hot, though the coleslaw above the patty helped cool it down and made it altogether delicious. “Bren,” I said, my mouth still full, “it’s like four in the morning.”

  “I like when you call me Bren.” He sat with one arm over the back of his chair, the other resting on the table with his fingers nearly close enough for me to touch them. “The manager over there owed me a favor,” he explained as I kept eating.

  I couldn’t decide if it was the burger lightening my mood or the fact that he’d called in a favor—it had to have been quite the favor—just to get me some good food in the middle of the night. Either way, I took back any bad thought I’d had about the guy over the last twelve hours. “Thank you, Bren,” I said quietly. I would have reached for his hand, but my own was smothered in sauce.

  He pulled his hands into his lap instead and watched me eat for a second, and then he took a deep breath and asked the question he had probably been wanting to ask all night: “How’s Steve?”

  Setting the last few bites of burger back on the paper cover it had come in, I took a moment to wipe my hands clean before I answered. I was still a little afraid that if I said it out loud, it would somehow turn out not to be true. “He was awake for a few minutes,” I said, and Brennon’s shoulders relaxed. “He’s asleep again, but everyone is optimistic.” I reached for the burger, too hungry to stay away for long.

  “Thank God,” he breathed, letting even more tension out with his exhale. “I’m sure he was happy to see you when he woke up.”

  My hands froze halfway to my mouth. He was doing it again, saying things that didn’t make sense. “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, maybe a little rougher than I should have been.

  Laughing softly, Brennon shook his head and met my gaze, looking at me as if he couldn’t understand how I could possibly have no clue what he was trying to say. “You don’t see it,” he said, more to himself than to me. Louder, he continued, “I have known that man for years, Lissa. He may have been popular, but even before the accident he barely tolerated people and couldn’t give a crap what other people thought. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him try as hard to impress someone as he has this last week.”

  The burger slipped from my fingers and onto the table in a scattered mess, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t move, could barely think as I kept my full focus on Brennon. The guy had barely been around Steve this week, so what could he possibly be talking about?

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said, “but if he had met you before the accident, when he could actually see you, he wouldn’t have given you the time of day.”

  Well that was…painful. “I’m having a hard time not seeing an insult in that,” I grumbled, hoping he was getting to some sort of point. I was too tired for a conversation like this.

  Brennon grinned, shaking his head again as he glanced around the mostly deserted cafeteria. “You’re beautiful, Lissa,” he said, turning his grey-blue eyes back to me. Suddenly I felt like I was floating. “Extremely. And if he had been able to see you, he would have assumed you would use that to your full advantage, and he would have dismissed you before he could figure out you’re not remotely like the women who do.”

  My voice was lodged in my throat, stuck there by the combination of pleasure and horror his words gave me. I’d never cared much about my appearance, mostly because it usually got me into trouble, and I hated vanity more than most things. But hearing Brennon say stuff like that was enough to make a girl swoon, and I very badly wanted to jump across the table and kiss him in gratitude. The only thing keeping me in my chair was my desperation to hear the rest of what he had to say, because somehow, I knew he wasn’t finished.

  “Thanks?” I said, unsure exactly how to respond.

  Brennon’s smile warmed even more. “You care about the important things,” he said. “The things you can actually control.”

  But what did this have to do with Steve?

  “The dog’s fine, by the way.”

  I nodded, grateful for the update but still focused on the last topic. It felt important.

  “Steve picked out the collar, didn’t he?” Brennon continued.

  Again, I nodded and wondered if I was missing something or just too exhausted to see the point of this little bit of conversation.

  Smiling a little, Brennon shook his head and looked right into my eyes. “I have no idea how he managed it, but he really did pick the exact shade. We should go see if he’s awake,” he added, scooting back with a harsh scraping of metal on linoleum as he rose. He held out his hand, and though I slipped my fingers between his, something felt wrong. Different.

  I followed Brennon, my thoughts too slow and jumbled to piece together. I needed sleep, but I had no inte
ntion of leaving the hospital until I was absolutely sure Steve would be okay. I could sleep later, even if that meant I couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening around me now. It was a good thing Brennon knew the way to go, because if I had gotten in that elevator on my own, I would have stared at the rows of buttons with no clue which to push until I rested enough to clear my head. But he pressed the number three, and soft music played overhead, lulling me into a comfortable haze.

  “Hey buddy,” Brennon said, and I realized with a jolt we had already reached Steve’s little room. Had I just fallen asleep while walking? “Good to see you awake!”

  “Sorry for the scare,” Steve replied.

  I shook my head a little, blinking hard to try to keep my eyes open. I wanted to see him. I wanted to make sure he had more color in his face and that he was actually getting better.

  “Think you can get her to go home and get some sleep?” one of them asked the other. I wasn’t sure which.

  “I can try,” said the other, “but she’s stubborn. Probably more stubborn than you.”

  “I have an idea.”

  “Come lie down here, Lissa.”

  A hand pulled me forward.

  Someone helped me settle on something soft, something warm, and everything else disappeared as the longest day of my life slowly came to an end.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I woke to the sound of voices, one much louder than the other, like a rumble right in my ear. I still felt like I could have slept for hours, but the sunlight streaming into the room was enough to bring me back to reality. I had too many people to worry about to spend all my time sleeping.

  “Good morning,” the louder voice said. I could feel him in my ear along with a strong, rhythmic thump.

  “We were wondering if you were ever going to wake up,” the other voice said lightly.

  Wait. That farther voice sounded like Brennon. I opened my eyes, and for a moment all I could see was pale blue beneath my palm. A hospital gown. And though I was still trying to wake up, I realized exactly where I was. Lifting my head, I found myself just a few inches from Steve’s face. “Oh.”

  His characteristic wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows as he gazed at me and repeated, “Oh,” as if he wasn’t sure what to do with my soft word.

  I wasn’t sure what to do with it either. “How did I get here?” He was thin, yes, but there was still a decent bit of muscle on his chest beneath my palm, making him a very comfortable pillow. Surprising.

  Steve smiled, the dimples in his scruffy cheeks tightening my chest a little bit. “We were debating how much you’d remember,” he said. “You owe me ten bucks, dude.”

  “Fine.”

  I turned my head and found Brennon lounging in the chair, his legs over one arm and looking much too handsome for a guy who had probably slept as poorly as I had. He was so good at his emotional masks that it was almost impossible to tell when he was wearing one. “What time is it?” I asked him.

  “Time for me to get to work,” he replied. “Walk me to the door?”

  I eagerly agreed, though climbing out of the hospital bed was harder than it apparently was to get into it, and I managed to bump Steve’s incision on his stomach and get a hiss of pain out of him. “Sorry,” I gasped and scrambled away as quickly as I could to avoid hurting him more.

  He was too busy grimacing to reply.

  Taking my hand, Brennon paused in the doorway and looked back toward the bed. “I know I said it before,” he said, “but I’m still mad at you for not telling Lissa you were in pain. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Steve just waved a couple of fingers.

  I worried I had done some serious damage, but Brennon gently pulled me out into the hall before I could go into hysterics. Hysterics? I needed a good slap to the face and some strong coffee. And I probably didn’t need to be sleeping with my head on the arm of a man who had very nearly died less than twenty-four hours earlier.

  “They’ll probably keep him under observation for a few more hours,” Brennon told me as we slowly walked down the quiet hall. “But Dave—Dr. Thurston—said there’s a chance he’ll be discharged later today.”

  “Really? So soon?”

  His smile was off, almost sad as he looked at me. “That’s assuming he’ll have you to look after him while I’m at work.”

  I wasn’t sure that was a good idea. “Brennon,” I said, “he almost died while I was looking after him. I don’t think—”

  “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “It wasn’t Steve’s fault either.”

  Brennon raised his eyebrows, a little caught off guard by my response, but his smile shifted into something a little more real. “Nevertheless,” he said, “Dr. Thurston is confident in your abilities, so if you’re willing…”

  “Of course I’m willing,” I replied.

  Pausing even though we were nowhere near the hospital entrance, Brennon pulled me aside to clear the hallway and spent a long several seconds just looking at me, reading something in my face. “He’ll be in good hands then,” he said finally and pressed a long kiss to my forehead.

  It took me a good five seconds of him walking down the hall for me to process what had just happened. “Wait!” I shouted and hurried after him. Luckily, he paused, because I was still too sleepy to run very far. “Brennon, why did that feel like a goodbye kiss?”

  Was he… Wait, were those tears pooling in his eyes? Brennon laughed softly, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stood there next to a cart with a portable ventilator like the one they’d used on Steve. “I told you when we first met,” he said, his voice cracking a little as he stared at the ground. “I don’t believe in love.”

  That was bull if ever I’d heard any. Brennon Ashworth had absolutely been in love before, and I had a feeling it had something to do with the girl in the photo by his bed. Whoever she was, she had hurt him. Badly. “Brennon,” I said.

  “Even if I did,” he continued, and a tear slipped from his eye as he blinked and looked up at me. “Even if I did, there’s no point falling for a woman when she’s already in love with someone else.”

  I stared at him as my brain tried to keep up. “In love?” I asked. “With Steve? You’re kidding, right?” I didn’t fall in love. People didn’t fall in love with me. It was just how things went for me.

  Brennon shrugged. “Just because I don’t believe in love doesn’t mean I can’t recognize it when I see it.”

  “But—”

  “I like you, Lissa. A lot.” He said this as he slowly backed away toward the exit. “I think we could be really good friends. And I think you deserve more in a job than someone who just wants you to fix his problems for him.” How did he even know about that?

  “Brennon,” I choked, but I couldn’t seem to get my feet to follow him.

  “There’s no one in the world who deserves happiness more than Steve Evans,” he said, and he was getting too far away. “And being around you has made him happier than I’ve seen him in years.” The elevator opened behind him, and he stepped inside without looking away from me. “Don’t hurt him,” he said, and then he was gone.

  I stood there in an empty hospital hallway more confused than I’d ever been in my life, and I had no idea what to do to fix it.

  So I did the only thing I could do and slowly made my way back to Steve’s room, desperately trying to get myself into one piece before I fell apart and just ran and hid until I could figure out exactly what was going on inside me. Brennon thought I was in love with Steve? But I barely knew the guy, and I’d spent the last week totally into Brennon, not his roommate. And Steve couldn’t possibly be in love with me, or he wouldn’t have said I should go back to Boston. Unless… Unless that was more of a selfless act than it seemed? Maybe he thought going back to Boston was best for me, that it would make me happy. Could Brennon’s words possibly be true?

  When I reached the room, Steve was sitting up, holding a little plastic cup of red Jell-O and examining it so inten
tly that it was like he was trying to figure out its exact chemical makeup.

  “You know you’re supposed to eat your food, not play with it, right?” I asked quietly.

  Wow, his smile was beautiful, especially now that he had color back in his face. “I’m just trying to decide if it’s worth a little bargaining,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded, pursing his lips as if deep in thought. “Yeah. I think it might work. I’ll eat this.”

  I settled in the little chair, surprised by how comfortable it was. Had it always been so soft? “Good.”

  Holding up a finger, he tried very hard to focus his gaze on me but came a little short, missing me by a couple of inches because I probably blended in with the chair. “I’ll eat it,” he repeated, “but only if you promise to make me something spectacular when we get home.”

  When we get home. That phrase had a nice ring to it. “I’m not sure I have the ability to concoct spectacular,” I said as a warmth spread through me, starting from my chest and expanding outward until even my toes tingled with it.

  Steve cocked his head, the wrinkle deep between his eyebrows and his lips in a smile he just couldn’t seem to get rid of. “Everything you make is spectacular, Lissa,” he said softly.

  Maybe Brennon wasn’t completely crazy.

  * * *

  Steve tripped twice on the short walk from the cab to the apartment. He blamed it on the meds; I blamed it on the fact that he knew I would be there to catch him.

  “You’re going to injure yourself again,” I said, steadying him.

  He easily maneuvered my hand so his arm could slip around mine. “I think you’ll have to guide me,” he said playfully, his face distractingly close to mine.

  Either Brennon had had an eye-opening talk with his roommate too, or I had seriously missed some signals from the guy. Either way, everything felt different as we walked to the elevator. This was no longer a man who felt guilty about me being stuck there with him, and I couldn’t argue against Brennon’s logic. Not when Steve gave me that smoldering—albeit unfocused—look as the elevator doors opened onto our floor.