Life on the Level: On the Verge - Book Three

by Zoraida Cordova

  “Oh, goodie,” I say. “Now everyone can visit me and stare.”

  “And take turns taking care of you. Including me.”

  The tickling feeling spreads from my belly to my toes.

  “Before you start saying any more cute things, let’s have that talk you mentioned during your ride.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “You really want to talk about that now?”

  “Why not?” I sit up and mold my pillows to my back. This bed gets less and less comfortable by the minute. “I’ve got nowhere to be and you’re supposed to take me back, aren’t you?”

  “Let’s go, Trouble.”

  • • •

  I check out. There’s paperwork to fill out, and when I write Sky’s name as my emergency contact number, the nurse at the counter gives me an off look.

  They insist on taking me out in a wheelchair, despite my protests that I’m perfectly able to walk. I hold my cardboard box with my wilting flowers and my notes. I still have to read them.

  “It feels like I got fired from the hospital,” I say.

  Hutch pushes my wheelchair. Nurseman opens the door for us. I wave at him on the way out. In hindsight, I should’ve been nice to him. Sky always complains that she gets rude people who think they’re at a hotel instead of the E.R.

  “You’re the only person I’ve met that doesn’t want to be taken care of.”

  “That’s right,” I say. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it all my life. Why should I stop now?”

  “I don’t know. Some people like accepting help. Some people like being doted on.”

  “Is that how you treat the girls you date?”

  I wish I didn’t have this stupid neck brace so I could see the reaction on his face.

  “Not that we dated,” I tell him. “Just had the one night of passionate sex all strangers have.”

  Stop. Talking.

  When we get to the HCRC van, Hutch turns around. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Did you shrink your shirt in the wash on purpose?” I ask. “Not that I’m complaining. I can just count all your abs underneath.” I grab the wheels of my chair and push myself forward. “One, two…”

  “River, stop deflecting.”

  I sigh. “Stop studying me. I’m not your case, okay?”

  He shakes his head, and now I know I’ve done it. I’ve pushed him as far as he can go, which isn’t very far. It’s not that I want to push him away.

  Well, yeah, it is.

  I want him. I want Hutch so much. But I need to keep him at a distance. A distance where I can admire his rough-and-tumble hotness, and the softness of his lips and eyes.

  He helps me into the front seat and buckles me in to wait while he goes to return the chair. In the van, I flip through the stations. Country, bluegrass, country, top forty, rap and country, and finally classic rock.

  When he comes back in, I can only glance at him without stretching my neck. I sing off-key to Sweet Child O’Mine.

  “Can you explain why Horse Creek is called Horse Creek if I haven’t seen a creek?”

  Hutch pulls out of the driveway. He taps the wheel with his fingers. He clears his throat. He fiddles with the rearview mirror even though it’s fine. He’s a study in nervousness, and I love it. I don’t know why it sends a thrill through me. True, he has reason to be nervous. Everything that’s happened between us could cost him his job. It’s more than a job to him. It’s his life. I’ve never had that. My life includes drunks and people who gamble their rent money away. Hutch is the one who saves them, while I make them worse. Whatever is happening between us, I know I want him to keep that life.

  I never went to college, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want to throw away everything he’s worked for just because of our little tryst. What would happen to me? I might get kicked out. I could go to another facility. What would happen to Hutch? He’d be fired. It could go in his files. How would he ever find a job again if his references said, “Inappropriate conduct with patients”?

  The thought of Hutch losing everything because of me is sobering. I stop singing, and watch the road stretch before us. I wish I could turn my head to the side and look out the window to avoid him.

  These highs and lows are killing me. I know I need to get a hold of myself. I still have a little over two months to go in my program. Those months will get awfully uncomfortable if we can’t make this right.

  Then Hutch makes a left where we’re supposed to make a right.

  “Where are you going?” My heart thumps in my chest.

  “You’ll see.”

  Five minutes later we’re in, surprise, more woods. He stops the van, then comes over to my side and opens the door.

  “I know, I know, you can handle it yourself.” His dark eyes stare sternly at me, leaving no room for argument. “But the path is rocky. I don’t want you to hurt yourself again. Let’s face it—you and nature aren’t on good terms yet.”

  “Jerk,” I mutter, as he scoops me up from the passenger seat and into his arms. Actually I’m thinking, let’s keep going. Let’s get as far away from here as possible. Just keep holding me like this.

  The cool breeze blows my hair over my face, which does a great job of concealing my smile.

  “You know, being a New Yorker, I should be afraid you’re going to take me to your secret cabin and turn me into taxidermy.”

  “Oh yeah?” he huffs and puff as the incline steepens. “Why aren’t you?”

  “Because I don’t think you’re into taxidermy.”

  I feel the vibration of his laugh go right through me.

  Then, I hear it. The trickle of water against rocks, the chirping of birds I could never name, the chatter of wild squirrels. Hutch sets me down at a tiny waterfall.

  “Welcome to Horse Creek.” He says creek like “crick.”

  “Crick?”

  “That’s right, creek.”

  “You’re saying crick.”

  “Cree-eek.” He sits beside and a little ahead of me, so I’ve got a perfect view of him flanked by trees and far-away mountaintops. As pristine and beautiful as this place is, untouched by man, like we’re the only two people in the world, I think I prefer the gorgeousness that is Hutch.

  “Much better,” I tell him. “I’ll teach you how to speak, and you can prevent the wild from devouring me.”

  “They were originally going to build the Center closer to this. But the locals were afraid it would damage the ecosystem.”

  “It’s nice that there are still some sacred places left. Imagine what the world is going to look like in the future. All cement blocks. Food probably won’t be real. We’ll get those freeze-dried foods like the astronauts get.”

  He makes a face. I reach out and touch his nose. Then I find my hand has gotten away from me, and I’m caressing the side of his face. Traitorous arm. What were we just talking about?

  “I’d like to be frozen one day,” he says, “like Han Solo in carbonite. I’d give instructions to unfreeze me in a hundred years, so I can see if the future you’re envisioning is real.”

  “Then I’ll freeze myself too. Just so I can gloat about being right.”

  He laughs. A dragonfly buzzes around his head. “That the only reason?”

  Nope. Then I’d get to be with you in a hundred years, too. Instead I say, “Yep.”

  He looks down and yanks grass from the ground. “We can’t stay here long. Helen might think I kidnapped you.”

  “Have you ever kidnapped anyone before?”

  He looks mortified. “God, no.”

  “Then why would she think you started now?”

  “River.”

  “Hutch.”

  “You wanted to know why it felt like I was avoiding you.”

  I roll my eyes. “It didn’t feel like you were avoiding me. You were.”

  “That was a dick thing to do.”

  “The dickest.”

  “What do you want from me, River?”

>   “Well, Hutch.” My butt cheeks are falling asleep from sitting cross-legged. I’d rather lie down, but that wouldn’t be any better. I fidget and look at his face and fidget some more. Isn’t that the question I keep asking myself? Isn’t that the question I can’t answer? What do I want from Chris Hutcherson?

  “I don’t know.” I shrug one shoulder, sending pain across my back. “What do you want?”

  He licks his lips. His eyes search my face for something I might not be able to give him.

  “I want more than this.”

  My insides feel like they’re collapsing. I feel like I’m at the top of a building, and it’s breaking apart beneath me.

  “What did you expect?” I shake my head and narrow my eyes. “That first night we were together. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think we’d wake up and you’d make breakfast and I’d tell you my name? That’s not how happily-ever-afters start. It’s not like we can go to the movies or to dinner. That’s not my style, Hutch.”

  “What is your style? Getting smashed and waking up with some guy you barely know, only to leave him without a word? You left me, River.”

  If I pretend Hutch is an opponent at a poker table, then I can keep a straight face. I push away the dull pain in my heart. I push away the sting of his words and focus on his eyes, the pleading in his voice. He wants more from me. I don’t know how to begin.

  “You have a problem with the way I live my life? You didn’t seem to mind when you were fucking me.”

  He looks away, frustrated. “Why do you talk like that?”

  “Because that’s who I am! You have to know that. I’m not some broken little girl waiting for Prince Charming to ride in and fix her life.”

  “I’m not trying to fix you.”

  “You are a counselor at my rehab center. That is literally what you’re trying to do.”

  He sighs, and the beauty of what this moment could have been is broken. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Then stop telling me the things that are wrong with me. I know who I am, and I can’t pretend to be someone else for you.”

  “This was a mistake.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.”

  We sit in a painful silence. I hurt from the inside out. My tear ducts sting, but I won’t cry.

  “Answer me this,” he says. “Why did you kiss me in the woods?”

  I replay the kiss in my head. Kissing Hutch for a second time was like breathing after drowning.

  “Because I wanted to,” I say.

  “So we’re fighting because I want you and you want me. But I want more than you want.”

  “You want,” I argue, “someone sane and put together. Someone like Jillian or Helen or that secretary girl who looks at you like you’re a Christmas present she wants to unwrap. You want something that I can’t give you. Something I don’t know how to give. My daddy taught me how to win, not how to be somebody’s prize.”

  “The world isn’t a poker table, River.”

  “How would you know? You’ve lived your whole life in one safe little corner of the world. Fuck you. You’re not one to get self-righteous with me.” I shove him, but he barely budges.

  He reaches for my hand, and I pull it away. He gets on his knees, taking up my whole view. He holds his hands to the sides of my face, like he’s afraid to hurt me. I shut my eyes. It’s hard to be reasonable with him looking at me like this.

  “Fuck you too. Stop telling me what I want. I want you, River. I want you.”

  “You won’t want me after you’ve heard everything I have to say. Isn’t that why you stayed away? Because you heard me tell that story about Kiernan?”

  “No,” he says. “I tried to stay away because if I’m not careful, I’ll walk right up to you and kiss you every moment I can find. I’ll spend every activity trying to make sure you’re okay. If I spend each night at the facility, I’ll find myself walking the halls in the middle of the night to get to your door.”

  “And I’d let you in.”

  He presses his lips to my forehead. He kisses my nose. He kisses my lips. I open my eyes. I can see the struggle on his face.

  “How can you want all those things?” I ask. “You don’t even know me. If you did, you’d run for the hills.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m a lot better at hiking than you.”

  I punch him in the chest, and he laughs. That hurt me way more than it hurt him, but at least we’re both smiling again.

  “I wish I’d met you so much sooner,” I whisper.

  “Would you have left in the morning?” His smile is devilish, and daring me to contradict him.

  The thing he wants to hear is “no.” But, honestly, I’m not sure. I left because I didn’t want to get attached, but I can feel how everything inside me wants to reach for him. Meanwhile, the only thing keeping us apart is me (and the whole patient/counselor thing doesn’t help). Giving your heart to someone is the worst thing you can do. It’s like betting it all on a high card.

  “We should go,” I say.

  He nods. I can tell he’s hurt, but he isn’t going to pressure me. He scoops me up and takes me back to the car. We’ve already been gone for too long.

  When we get back to HCRC, I go right to our infirmary. Hutch places my flowers on my new beside table. He waits for the nurse to check me in. It makes me nervous that he’s staying so close. He’s paying too much attention. He’s straddling the border the way an adrenaline junkie might, seeing how far he can go before getting caught.

  He pulls my curtain divider. Lingers.

  “We’re not done yet,” I whisper.

  “I know. I don’t think I’ll ever be done with you.”

  Chapter 18

  That night all I can think about is Hutch. What does “I’ll never be done with you” even mean? The second thing on my mind is the pain in my body when Helen comes in.

  “You scared us back there.” Helen sits at the side of my bed, brandishing a dinner tray. The Tuesday night special is a sandwich and apple juice, with a brownie for dessert.

  I forgot how hungry I was.

  “You know what would go well with this fantastic dinner?” I ask sweetly.

  “We can’t give you painkillers, River.”

  I grumble, but dive right into my sandwich.

  “I wanted to apologize for the day of the hiking trip.”

  “That was, like, a week ago,” I tell her with my mouth full. “You have apology issues. You might want to talk to someone about that. I know a couple of shrinks, if you’re interested.”

  “It’s a good thing that concussion didn’t hurt your sense of humor.”

  “I know. I was really worried about that. And I accept your apology. I get it. You have to be on the lookout for dangerous behavior and all that.”

  “Coming to a place like this isn’t easy,” she says. She leans back into the chair. I kind of want her to leave. I want to be alone and replay my conversation with Hutch over and over again. “Sometimes people who feel like they’re alone in the world feel like there’s nothing left to live for.”

  “I’m not alone, doc. I’ve got family. Not blood family, but still, family.” Besides, my mom is blood and she’s as good as dead to me.

  She looks down at her lap. She doesn’t seem to mind my terrible table manners.

  “I lost a girl a few months ago. A patient. She was this bright, shiny thing. She was in here for drug abuse.”

  “What kind?”

  “Everything except for meth.”

  “A girl’s gotta have standards, doc.”

  Her laughter is mixed with sadness. “She was a budding country singer, but she didn’t have good people around her. She crashed her car and did terrible damage to her hand. There went her music career, and all the people who pretended to love her.”

  “Why are you telling me that?”

  “Because you remind me of her.”

  My appetite goes away. “Do you pick on me or do you give thes
e pep talks to everyone?”

  “I don’t want you to feel like I’m picking on you, but I do want you to understand that there’s a difference between getting well and pretending that you’re well. Being here means you have to be present.”

  “I am present,” I protest.

  She arches her eyebrow, challenging me to admit otherwise. “Part of you is still resisting admitting you have a problem. You don’t share in group therapy. You can take your time, but the point is to get to the root of what’s in that pretty head of yours.”

  “Ransom’s a total rat,” I say. But I know that she’s right.

  “It’s his job to report back to me. We all want to see you get well, River. No pretending. No holding back. We’re here for you.”

  “When I got here I wasn’t sure I belonged with everyone here.”

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  “I know I want to get help. I know I still make little bets with myself because it’s a compulsion, a tic, like ripping up receipts or tapping my foot or biting my nails. It’s ingrained in me. I don’t know if that’s ever going to stop. I know I miss the nightlife and partying and that rush that comes with dozens of little chips and the uncertainty in the turn of a card. I miss it. But I haven’t left this place, and there’s no one keeping me here but me.”

  She smiles. “Good. Get better so you can get back on that horse.”

  “You’re so awkward,” I tell her, and she leaves me alone to eat dinner. She pauses at the door. “Hutch mentioned you believe something spooked your horse. Did you see what it might’ve been?”

  This is the part where I tell Helen about Taylor. If I tell her I think Taylor spooked my horse, she’ll investigate. He’ll take it out on me. Or worse, Hutch. Taylor suspects something between Hutch and me. I can feel it in my bones. I can tell her about the barn, but I don’t have any proof.

  “No,” I lie. “I don’t remember anything.”

  • • •

  But I do remember Taylor’s face. The contempt in his eyes, the smile on his face. I lie in bed replaying my fall. Before that, the cliff. The wind in my face. Hutch’s perfect kiss by the creek. To get him off my mind, I read the cards everyone made for me.