by Ranae Rose
“Sorry. I would’ve called you sooner if I’d been able to.” A fresh bolt of guilt shot through him. How long had he been at the hospital? There was no light drifting in through the window. He’d left her waiting with no explanation.
“Are you all right? Your voice sounds kind of scratchy.”
“I fell off a ladder at work today when I was climbing down from a roof. I’m not going to be able to make it tonight.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, but there was no way around it. The effort of locating and picking up his phone had his eyelids drooping; he was drugged up and had one arm in a cast. He’d be a joke in the ring.
“Are you hurt?”
“Wrist’s broken.”
“How bad is it?”
“Just a fracture. Could’ve been a lot worse.”
“Where are you?”
“Johns Hopkins. My foreman brought me into the ER.”
“Do you need someone to come pick you up? I can take a cab to the hospital and meet you there.”
His heart lurched against his ribs, speeding faster than his thoughts. “No, you don’t have to do that. They want me to stay overnight.” The last thing he needed was for Ally to see him lying around in a hospital room like he was dying when his only real injury was a wrist fracture.
“Why?” A note of suspicion entered her voice. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“No, I landed on my arm. My head was killing me already then – that’s why I fell. I’d be out of here already, but between the vertigo and all the pills and shit they’ve given me, I’m not sure I’d make it out of the building.”
“I’m coming over. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The noise of her fumbling with something and then a zipper being pulled sounded in the background.
“Ally—”
“I’m coming. I want to see you.”
“No, you don’t. Visiting hours are probably over, anyway.”
“I’m not visiting. I’m going to stay the night with you.”
“It’s just a fracture. I’m not dying. You can see me tomorrow.” He’d pull his act together by then. He’d have to – he’d already had all the embarrassment he could handle in a weekend, and it was only Friday.
“I’d rather come than stay home and lie awake all night worrying about you.” The tone of her voice radiated stubbornness – he could just see her wrinkling her nose as she argued. The visual weakened his resolve a little as he remembered the day he’d first met her.
“I’m serious. Please, let me keep you company.”
He shifted against the mattress, as if a different position could somehow make the idea of Ally seeing him like this comfortable. “Fine. But you don’t have to stay the whole night.” He wasn’t on his death bed – he didn’t need someone to watch over him.
“What room are you in?”
His gut knotted as he glanced around. His surroundings were generic, sterile – he had no fucking idea what his room number was. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll find out when I get there. See you soon.”
The call was over before he could even lower his phone. When he did, it slipped from his fingers and tumbled to the mattress.
The five minute conversation with Ally had left him feeling like he’d run a marathon. He closed his eyes and let fatigue draw him down, beneath the surface of his worries. The dark, thoughtless state he found there was exactly where he wanted to be.
Chapter 15
When footsteps sounded against the tile, he knew they didn’t belong to a nurse. Knowing who he’d see, he opened his eyes.
“Hey.” Ally approached the bed and gripped his left hand. Her eyes were wide, dark and traveling up and down his body, darting back and forth between his right arm and his face.
“Hey.” Sleep still beckoned him, but he shoved the temptation away, focusing on her.
“How are you?” She tightened her hold on his hand a little, though she didn’t look like she realized she was doing it.
“Fucked would about sum it up. Can’t fight and can’t work with a broken wrist. I mean, maybe I could’ve wrapped it up and still fought, but not if I wanted a chance at worker’s comp.” And he would need that to scrape by – there was no way around it.
One of her eyebrows crept upward, the graceful arch exaggerated by her expression. “I mean how do you feel?”
“Pretty shitty. The meds they gave me dull the pain but make me feel like I’m underwater.”
She let her gaze wander again. This time, he could feel it on his chest. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a hospital gown?”
Vague memories of refusing such a garment rose to the surface of his mind. “I feel pathetic enough without being stuck in one of those. I told them they could have my jeans, but they’d have to fight me for them.” He smiled, but could feel the weakness of the expression. Maybe he’d known deep down that Ally would insist on showing up. Either way, it was a good thing he’d refused the gown, which would’ve been the last nail in the coffin containing his pride.
“I’m going to have a seat.” She glanced toward the vinyl chair that took up one corner of the room. “I don’t want to keep you up.”
“Told you, you don’t need to stay the night.”
“I don’t have enough cash for the cab fare home, so you’re stuck with me.” She leaned over the bed and kissed him lightly, her lips warm against his jaw.
“Ally…” He stopped there. He had some cash in his wallet he could’ve offered her for cab fare, but he didn’t.
“Get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me to buzz for a nurse or anything.”
The vinyl chair creaked as she sank down into it, messing with some sort of lever on the side until it reclined.
He gave in to exhaustion again, this time falling asleep completely.
* * * * *
When Ryan opened his eyes, Ally was apparently just waking up. Faint, plastic-y squeaking sounds broke the silence as she stirred in the vinyl chair she’d slept curled up in, one cheek against the ugly green lump that served as a pillow. When she lifted her head and looked at him, there was a bright pink imprint on the side of her face.
Guilt spiraled through him. Bright light was filtering in through the window – she’d spent the entire night in the chair, which barely reclined. He’d been oblivious, deep in a drug-induced sleep in the relatively comfortable bed.
“Morning,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the chair and stretching them.
He mumbled something back, somehow forcing his voice to cooperate. His mouth was dry as cotton, and he could practically taste his bad breath. The room was too warm, and the damp sheets clung to his back as he moved, assuming something close to a sitting position. His movements were clumsy thanks to his cast and the haze that lingered in his mind, dulling the edges of his thoughts.
Unfortunately, his mind was still sharper than it had been the day before – sharp enough to remember everything that had happened, from falling off the ladder to puking on the ER floor to allowing Ally to stay and sleep on the crappy plastic chair like a martyr.
She stood beside the bed, her eyes bright despite the shadows beneath them. When she laid a hand on his unhurt arm, enjoying the heat of her touch felt selfish – like some kind of betrayal.
She toyed with the hospital wristband around his arm, stroking it gently with one thumb. “Hey, your birthday is in two days.”
Guilt drew his gaze down to the wristband. His name and date of birth were printed next to a barcode, above the name of his doctor. “Yeah.”
“You’re going to be twenty-six.”
Twenty-six with nothing to show for it. “Yeah.” It was the only word that would come out – he couldn’t ignore her after the way she’d suffered through the night with him, but what else was there to say? His upcoming birthday wasn’t important. Getting out of the hospital and back to his place, where he could be pathetic in peace – now that was important.
“How�
��s your headache?” Her fingers still rested against his wrist, but she met his eyes.
“Not too bad. The worst of the pain is gone.” A dull ache lingered, but it was nothing compared to the agony of the day before.
“Do you want me to buzz a nurse for some more painkillers?”
“Hell no. I can deal with this. I just want to get out of here.” He slid from the edge of the bed. Despite the room’s warmth, the tile was faintly cool against the soles of his feet. “Have you seen my boots?”
“Here.” She left the bedside and retrieved them from a corner where he didn’t remember placing them. A nurse must have done it.
The boots were well-worn – he’d definitely gotten his money’s worth already. Their cracked leather exteriors shed construction-site dust on the clean tile as he shoved his feet into them. He was able to pull them on easily enough with one hand, but when that was done, the laces remained untied.
His fingers clenched and unclenched, and the edge of the cast bit into his palm, just below his knuckles.
“Let me help.” Ally took a step forward, already reaching for the laces.
He let her tie them. What choice did he have? She formed perfect double knots, and he couldn’t look away as his pulse throbbed in the side of his neck, bringing back a hint of the previous day’s headache.
“There.” She stood. “All you need now is a shirt.”
He turned, slipped an arm under his pillow and pulled a long-sleeved thermal t-shirt from beneath it.
Ally raised an eyebrow. “Put it there for safe keeping?”
He shrugged, then frowned as the motion reached his wrist, sparking a wave of pain. “Wasn’t going to risk being left with nothing to wear but one of those gowns.”
She tried to help him into his shirt, but he refused. Getting into it on his own was awkward, but far from impossible. When he worked his right arm into a sleeve, it was obvious the cuff was a little too narrow to fit the cast through without ripping. A tearing sound rent the air as a seam gave way, and he pulled the hem of the shirt down over his hips. “It’s just an old work shirt,” he said, meeting Ally’s gaze.
Before she could reply, a nurse walked through the door, a clipboard tucked against her side. “Mr. Moore? I see your fiancée has helped you into your clothes already.” She frowned at Ally for some reason. “You still need to be seen by the doctor before you can leave.”
Fiancée? The word took him by surprise, jerking him out of his brooding thoughts as a surge of something like longing gripped him, so potent he was momentarily thrown off balance. He steadied himself against the bed, and when he looked to Ally, he could actually feel a line between his eyes smoothing as one of his brows crept toward his hairline. Was that what she’d told the hospital staff in order to spend the night with him unharassed? “Well, get him in here then, because I’m leaving.” He wasn’t shocked enough to agree to waste more time waiting around at the hospital.
The nurse turned to Ally again, ignoring Ryan. “The doctor will be in as soon as he can.”
He let the nurse take his vital signs before she left the room, but only because Ally was watching intently, like she feared he was about to drop dead or something. He was fine, and if he had to let the nurse poke and prod him a little to prove it, he could deal with that. Ten minutes and he’d be out of the building and on his way home regardless of what anyone said.
“Let’s just go,” he said as soon as the nurse was gone.
Ally crossed her arms and frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to get the doctor’s approval before you leave? I mean, you already spent the night. Why not stay for a few more minutes?”
He shook his head. “I spoke to a doctor last night. He was going on about how I need to go back on meds to control my migraines. I told him it’s not happening.”
“But you do take medicine when you get headaches.”
“That’s just migraine medicine I picked up at a drugstore.” Acetaminophen, aspirin and caffeine – that was all the pills were, which was precisely why they rarely worked.
“For a while my doctor at the VA had me on antidepressants to prevent the headaches. They helped, but fucked with me in so many other ways. I’m done with them. Stopped taking them about a month and a half ago after they made me pass out in the shower and hit my head. Woke up in a pool of blood and water and said to hell with those pills.”
He’d been so pissed when he’d woken up, his nostrils and chest burning from the little bit of dirty water he’d inhaled. He’d hit his head pretty hard, but once he’d come back around he’d been clear-headed enough to realize that he’d been lucky not to drown in his own shower water. He’d sworn off the pills then – gone cold turkey.
“Oh.” The fire was gone from her voice as she tipped her head, gaze sliding away from his face.
He stopped leaning on the bed and stood up straight. “Have you seen my jacket? Wore it in here yesterday…”
Before she could answer, the door swung open, admitting a guy in a white coat and glasses – obviously a doctor, but not the one he’d seen the night before.
“Mr. Moore? I’m Doctor Lawson.” He glanced at Ryan, then back down at his chart. “The nurse told me you’re determined to leave. Before you go, I’m going to write you a prescription for an anti-depressant – the same one you were taking up until six weeks ago. It’s important that you resume taking it. I’m sure your doctor at the VA will agree.”
“No.” Ryan shook his head. “I won’t take those pills again.”
The doctor leveled a look at him over the rims of his glasses, mouth pressed into a flat line. “You’re here in the emergency room for a reason. You fell off a ladder and fractured your wrist. Next time, it could be the roof, and it could be your neck that’s broken. Would you prefer that over dealing with the side-effects of preventative medication?”
Ryan didn’t say anything – not before the doctor left, and not after. Taking Ally by the hand, he led her from the room and out of the hospital. He used the last of his cash on a cab – one he should’ve called for her the night before instead of allowing her to stay.
His place was closer to the hospital than Ally’s. The cab driver stopped there first. When the brakes screeched faintly, it was the first sound to break the silence that had reigned during the ride. “I’ll give him enough to take you home,” Ryan said, climbing out of the cab. “Thanks for staying with me.” He felt like a jerk saying it, but he would’ve felt even worse if he hadn’t thanked her at all.
“What are you talking about? I thought I was coming home with you. Couldn’t you use some help?” The wide-eyed look of betrayal she gave him caught him off guard – if it had been a physical blow, it would’ve knocked the wind right out of him.
“You don’t have to do that. Go home and get some rest – I know last night was shitty for you.”
“It’s fine.” She climbed out of the cab before he could breathe another word. “I got plenty of sleep. And even if I hadn’t, I’d stay.” She stepped close to his side, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the top floor of the complex.
Fingers stiff, he pulled the last few bills from his wallet and surrendered them to the driver.
“You sure?” he asked as the cab pulled away, leaving them alone by the building. Maybe it was stupid to ask when the cab had already gone, but the thought of walking upstairs with her and letting her waste her entire day at his bedside was more agonizing than his broken wrist.
“Yeah. Of course.” She touched his unhurt arm, fingers resting gently against the waffle weave of his long-sleeved tee.
What the hell could he say? It wasn’t like he could leave her on the street while he holed up inside his apartment. So they climbed the stairs, together.
They’d barely stepped inside when she offered to cook breakfast.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll eat later.” A part of him wanted to counter her offer and insist on cooking for her – she hadn’t eaten anything since rushing to the hospital the night before
and she had to be hungry.
But he was already standing at the edge of the couch, and what little rejuvenating effects his night of sleep had provided had faded. As he stood there, gravity weighed on his body, reminding him how useless he was in the wake of pain, stress and drugs. He succumbed, sank down and slumped on the couch. The crappy second-hand sofa had never felt so welcoming. If only he’d been alone, he would’ve been out like a light and could’ve stayed that way for ages – forever, preferably.
Ally joined him on the couch, perching on the edge of a cushion. She’d slept in her makeup and without any toiletries, but she still looked beautiful – so beautiful he could hardly stand to look at her as the light pouring through the window backlit her, framing her face and lighting up her halo of unruly curls. He didn’t deserve her, and she definitely didn’t deserve him being pissed at her for gracing him with her presence.
She met his eyes, holding his gaze captive. “I want to help you, Ryan. And it’s not like I have anywhere else I need to be today. At least let me make you some breakfast.”
He shook his head, needing physical motion to break eye contact. “I don’t want you to help me, Ally.”
“It’s not a big—”
He recognized the determination in her voice – it was evidence of the same spirit that made her fit for fighting in the ring, but he couldn’t take it. His reserves of energy had been utterly depleted. And his own fighting spirit had abandoned him, leaving him defenseless against her determination, against her endless sympathy. Sheer, sudden anger was all that enabled him to reply. “I’m tired of you helping me all the fucking time. Just don’t.”
The way her eyes widened would’ve shamed a better man, but when she didn’t say anything, relief was all he was capable of feeling. He didn’t even drop his gaze.
“Sorry,” she said after a small, quiet eternity, her voice as weak as he felt.
Finally, he experienced a stab of guilt. For a second, he longed to take what he’d said back, to take her by the hand and keep her there with him.