He nodded, catching on quickly, and made up a date of birth.
“We’ll pay cash for her,” he added.
“She’s not on your parents’ insurance?” The nurse frowned.
Clay shook his head. “Doubt it. They’re dead.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry.” The nurse backed right off with the questions after that. “We’re doing everything we can.”
“How bad is it?” Clay asked the question I couldn’t bring myself to.
“We need to do a brain scan to find that out. She’s got a broken arm, a fractured femur and several broken ribs, all on the left side. Possible hematoma; we’ll know more after we do an MRI.”
“When will that be?”
“In about two hours.”
We sat down and waited. I didn’t know why I felt guilty, like this was somehow my fault. Had I scared her off? Was that why she’d run away? There was the very real possibility that when she woke up, she wouldn’t want to see me. Ever.
Chapter 9
“If I wrote you a love song and sang it to you every day, would it ever be enough to make you wanna come back home and stay?” — Florida Georgia Line, Stay
Harper
My dreams were blurred. I was being chased by kids from my high school. Then they were cops, and I’d been accused of armed robbery. The military found out I was an alien. Running. Always running. Fleeing the wolves with my fast legs, my long ears hearing threats before they got close enough to identify. Never stopping. Never waiting to be caught.
When I watched action movies, I always got mad when the good guys escaped the bad guys, walked twenty yards around the corner then stopped to have a heart-to-heart. I would never be so stupid.
I was lost in a maze of dreams when I found myself in Barrett’s kitchen. It was empty, but there was bacon frying in a skillet, like he’d just been here. Everything seemed a little more blue-gray than usual, and when I looked outside I saw thick and heavy rainclouds.
I walked into the dining room, and saw the table had been set with fancy party favors. Little glass bottles were stoppered with cork and filled with candy balls. Their necks were tied with ribbons and they were labeled with cursive handwriting I couldn’t read. Each place setting also had a cute folded card with names written in the same style.
There was a centerpiece of mason jars filled with origami swans and wine bottles decorated to make candle holders. Confetti was sprinkled everywhere. My eyes moved around the room and fell on a white cake, four tiers, with swirly icing around the edges of each layer. At the very top stood a bride and groom with no faces.
Where he usually had a dining room window, this version of the house had patio doors and outside I saw people dancing in the yard, surrounded by fairy lights. Somehow, I didn’t feel like I should go out there. It hurt my heart to imagine Barrett marrying some other girl, even though I knew it had to be inevitable. He was a great guy who deserved to be happy, I just didn’t want to have to watch him be happy with someone else.
I turned away from the party and went upstairs. In the guestroom at the front of the house, there was now a nursery. Two white cribs stood side by side, with surreal white blankets, soft toys, and hanging mobiles. In my heart, I knew these were supposed to be my babies. I went to the window and looked out at the farmyard. I watched my van drive away, Barrett running outside too late to stop me, and the room I was in wavered and faded. When I looked back, it was just a guestroom again.
I ran around the house, looking for Barrett or the babies whose nursery I’d just been in, but they were nowhere. I was alone. Outside, I stepped onto a porch that hadn’t existed before that moment, and I saw two rocking chairs. They were empty, too. When I tried to sit in one, it disappeared.
I sat on the wooden steps and cried for the future I’d thrown away. I cried for Barrett’s future, too, which I’d taken from him. For the babies we’d never have. The life we’d lost.
Barrett
When the doctor and nurses came to take Harper for her MRI scan, I went to get some coffee.
“We were so happy. I just don’t understand why she got spooked and ran,” I kept saying.
“Seems to me like she’s been running from something for a long time. I’m not so sure she was running from you, tonight, or if she was running from whatever makes her live in a van by herself. Not so sure you can date someone who can’t stay still long enough to find out if you’re the one.”
“But she seemed so happy to just spend time with me.”
Clay shook his head. “She’s like one of those wild horses Jake sometimes gets caught up over. You can’t teach them to live on a ranch. They’d never be happy. She needs the wind in her mane.”
I shook my head. That might be what she looked like, but I was sure there was a settling-down kind of girl buried underneath her exterior.
I just had to figure out how to reach that side of her.
We waited outside the room for what seemed like decades, until Harper was brought back to her room. A doctor approached us with a chart.
“Which one of you is Harper’s brother?” he asked. Clay raised his hand. “The brain scan came back fine.”
“When can she go home?”
“She’s off the ventilator, but we need to keep her in to ensure no complications develop. She will probably be here for three to five days.”
I let out the breath I was holding.
“We’ll wait.” I spoke a little too quickly.
“We don’t have a guestroom, but you’re welcome to use the chairs out here,” the doctor said. I eyed the orange plastic and knew I was staying regardless of how uncomfortable those chairs were going to be.
Chapter 10
“I will let you down. I will make you hurt.” — Johnny Cash, Hurt.
Barrett
I was slumped in an orange chair, my ass aching from the way my weight had pressed against the hard plastic for hours, when the nurse shook my shoulder.
“Excuse me? Sir? Harper is awake.”
I stretched out the cricks in my spine and dragged myself onto my feet. Half-asleep, I trudged to the door and looked in. Her eyes were open.
I tapped on the glass before I went in.
“Harper!” It wasn’t possible for one word to express everything I was feeling, but it did a pretty good job of it.
“B-Barrett?” She tried to frown but stopped abruptly. “Oww.”
“You gave us quite a scare, young lady.” My words were mildly scolding, but my tone was gentle.
“What happened?”
“You got hit by a truck.”
“Feels like it.” She frowned. “Yeah, I remember, now.”
“You have a lot of broken bones. They’re keeping you here a few days.”
Her eyes widened. “They can’t!”
“They have to. You’re hurt.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“It’s covered.”
Frantic, she began clawing one-handedly at the pads and tubes attached to her. “No, it’s not! I don’t have any insurance! I have to leave!”
“Stay put, young lady.” My voice was sterner, now. “You ain’t going nowhere without the doctor’s say-so. Clay will pay cash for your medical bills.”
She tried to frown again. “I can’t pay him back. Not this kind of money.”
“Maybe he doesn’t need paying back.” Even if he was flat broke, I knew he’d never accept any money from her.
“Where’s my van? Please tell me it wasn’t impounded!”
I sighed. The truth was going to destroy her so I changed the subject instead. “I promise it’s not impounded. Hey, you have a TV. Want to watch crappy re-runs of old stuff?”
I picked up the remote and wiggled it. She smiled and nodded.
“Is there a vending machine near here? I could sure do with some chips.”
“I think so. Want anything to drink, while I’m gone?”
“Dr. Pepper?” Her voice was hopeful. “If not, I’ll take Cherry Coke.”
I remembered my conversation with Clay earlier. I’m a Cherry Coke guy.
“Sure. I’ll see what they have. Why don’t you find us something awful to watch while I’m gone?” I went to search for food and drink. There was everything she wanted in a couple of vending machines.
Sitting with her felt so natural. But a rift had formed between us and I wasn’t sure how to bridge it without just asking.
“Why did you go?” It was impossible to keep all of the anguish out of my voice.
“I didn’t plan on leaving.” She sounded like she regretted it.
“Then why?”
She paused for a moment, like she didn’t want to say it out loud. “I couldn’t stop myself.”
“Like... chocolate?” I tried to make sense of what she was saying.
“Huh?”
“People eat chocolate because they see it and can’t stop themselves. I’ve never heard of it making anyone drive away from someone they were getting along with before.”
“I don’t eat a lot of chocolate, I guess.”
I sighed and my heart contorted as I asked the harder questions. “Do you want to stay?”
“I wish I’d never gone.”
“Not the same thing.”
“Do I even get a choice anymore? I broke everything. I didn’t mean to, but I’m still responsible, and I have no idea where we go from here. Can you trust me, now?”
“Not to stay, no.” It hurt, but it was the truth and we both needed to be honest right now. “But do you want to stay?”
“Yeah. But I don’t feel like I have any right to choose.”
She was really mad at herself. There was nothing I could say to make her feel better.
“After you get released from hospital, you’re going to need somewhere to go. I want you to come back to the ranch. You’ll be well taken care of.”
“I don’t deserve to be taken care of.”
“And after your broken bones are healed, we can talk about that.” I decided to put my cards on the table. “You’ll probably be over my knee for that conversation, if you consent.”
There was a flicker of hope in her expression at the same time her eyes welled up.
“I would agree to that. If you consent to having me around, still.” She remembered my talk from by the river, about how we both had to consent, and could both withdraw our consent at any time. There was hope for her, yet.
Clay insisted I go home to get some real rest the next day. I reluctantly said goodbye to Harper and let Clay drive me back to Snake Eye.
“You two seemed to get re-acquainted quickly,” he pointed out.
“She feels pretty bad that she ran out.” I watched the desert pass me by and wondered what happened to her, to make her run with such determination.
“She had a choice. She could have stayed.” His voice was harder. He made it sound so clear-cut, but it wasn’t. I knew if she’d done something like that to him, it would have been the end of anything between them. Clay was harsher than me.
“I’m not so sure. She says she couldn’t stop herself.”
Clay cleared his throat and didn’t respond.
“Clay? Do you think it’s possible for someone to get addicted to travel?”
“Probably not like alcohol or drugs. But it could be a sign of some other problem.”
“She’s never once mentioned her parents.” Although, I wasn’t so sure I’d brought mine up, either. Something about the way she avoided talking about her family or childhood bothered me.
“See? There’s something going on, there, but I don’t think the travel’s the problem. You gotta figure out what’s causing her to leave.”
The rest of the way back to the ranch, I watched the desert go by and I thought about how to ask Harper why she was so opposed to staying in one place.
Harper
The hospital was the waiting place. There was literally nothing to do but wait until they said I was allowed to leave. Wait and wonder if Barrett was ever coming back, now he’d seen I was alive. And since there were only so many re-runs of Cops I could stomach, I kept zoning out and drifting into deep thought about what I’d done.
What was wrong with me?
My thoughts went around and around on a non-stop carousel while I tried to figure out why I’d fled. All the quick escapes I’d made in the past had always felt completely justified. Men had been too clingy, or I’d needed to get to my next destination (or my next cup of coffee), or I wanted to move my van before I got a parking ticket.
Were they real reasons for moving on, or had I spent the last few years in denial of a deep problem, and making excuses for myself? Tears filled my eyes as I recognized I’d struck a nerve.
I thought back to the day I bought my van. I’d been saving for about a year, only paying rent and generally eating for free at the diner where I’d waitressed. The minute I laid eyes on the gleaming red paint job, I’d known in my heart that van was freedom. Escape. Hope. I’d dreamed about getting that van since I was a little girl.
I’d been hiding from the world in my van. Running away on its tires. Avoiding commitment, or deeper connections, by driving onwards.
When we first met, Barrett had asked me where I was going. The truth was, I didn’t know. My whole journey plan these last few years had been summed up in one word; away. I didn’t care where I went or how long it took to find it. I wasn’t even sure if I was actually going anywhere or if I was just wandering, lost in America. I was always glad I wasn’t lost in the same place day-in-day-out for years. Everything else was gravy.
My destination was obvious, now. That little dirt road where I’d parked late one night about a week ago had led to where I was going all along. I had run away because I didn’t know how to recognize where I was going.
“If you don’t know where you’re going, how can you know if you’re there?” I wondered aloud.
I knew what I wanted, now. But there was another complication: Barrett might not be willing to let us try again. We needed a do-over, but I’d walked out on him once and he had no way of knowing if I would do it again. Instead of waiting for him to give me a reason to stay, I now needed to prove to him that I wanted to stay.
Harper
By the time the hospital released me, I was dreading spending alone time with Barrett, and at the same time I hoped this was my chance to fix things.
“You sure I don’t need to pick up my van?” I asked as we waited for a doctor to sign some forms.
“No. I’ll explain when we get back.”
That sounded ominous, and why hadn’t I noticed the hitch in his voice last time I’d brought this up?
It left a big silence between us while we walked with Clay to his truck. Well, those two walked and Barrett pushed me in a wheelchair because I couldn’t even turn the wheels by myself with only one working arm.
“Bet you’re looking forward to some real food after being in the hospital for so long,” Clay babbled. I wasn’t sure what had been said between him and Barrett, but ever since they first appeared at the hospital a few days ago, it seemed like he was trying to smooth things over. Was Barrett very mad at me? What did Clay know about this situation that I didn’t?
I didn’t know what to say, so the awkwardness blossomed until it filled the parking lot. Other people were going about their day, and all I could think of was whether I should fill this void in the conversation with something, and if so, what.
The pressure got painful, so I blurted, “The metal railings on those hospital beds would be perfect for bondage.”
Clay and Barrett both stopped dead, and so did my wheelchair. Nearby, an old lady turned and stared at me. She opened her mouth to say something, but Clay turned on his fifty-megawatt charm and touched his hat, in that devastating cowboy way that always made me think he was a bit of a player.
“Howdy, ma’am.” His tone was cordial. The woman was instantly distracted. She broke out into a smile as her eyes gave him a once-over. Twice.
“Ok
ay, mister, let’s get you outta here before she hits you over the head with her purse, puts you over her shoulder and runs away with you,” Barrett muttered. He grabbed Clay’s arm and steered him in the direction of the truck.
When we were inside the truck, I ended up sitting between the two men, who began laughing the moment the doors were closed.
“I can’t believe you just said that in the open,” Barrett remarked.
“So... rope bondage, huh?” Clay asked.
I blushed so hard I could probably get mistaken for a stoplight, and I didn’t try to fill the silence again as we made the trip back to the ranch.
Chapter 11
“All the Ajax in the world ain't gonna clean your dirty laundry.” — Carrie Underwood, Dirty Laundry.
Harper
“Okay, I’m laying in bed, I’m propped up with pillows. You’ve brought me hot chocolate—thank you, by the way—but now tell me where my van is.”
Barrett perched on the edge of the bed and took my good hand between both of his.
“I’m sorry, Harper. It was a total wreck. As soon as the cops didn’t need it for evidence, they had it crushed.”
I wailed with despair, while my heart punctured and bled. Tears streamed down my face and my ribs hurt because my stomach clenched, forcing the air out of my lungs.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you right away. You need to heal.”
“My van...” I couldn’t say anything else before my throat was too tight to speak. I cried harder than I’d cried over anything since my dad died.
“I’m so sorry. There was nothing anyone could do to fix it.” He squeezed my hand hard. I really needed a hug at that moment, but I couldn’t have one because of all my broken bones.
“It’s going to take a while to get over,” I said at last, when the pain subsided a little. “It was my home.”
“Your little bubble, where you could look at the rest of the world without having to get involved.”
Make Me Stay (Arizona Heat Book 2) Page 7