~*~
It’s getting late, and visiting hours end in fifteen minutes. I have no clue if Marcy will be okay with me staying. Fuck the hospital staff; I don’t care what they think. All I know is I can’t sleep in Dad’s office another night, wondering if Kate’s okay.
Yet Dad’s words stick with me. I shouldn’t care about this girl so much. I’ll end up hurting her like I hurt everyone else who enters my life.
Mr. Browdy leans over his daughter and kisses her on the forehead. I wonder if I should step out and give them a moment, but I don’t because what if one of the nurses catches me and doesn't let me back in? I can’t risk that.
“I love you, princess,” he tells her. “Hang in there, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Your mom and Damian are here if you need anything.”
Him mentioning my name like that knocks the breath out of me. We haven’t talked much, and even though I know he was grateful for me calling my dad when Kate got sick, I wasn’t sure what he thought about me hanging around her room.
He nods at me before taking his wife’s hand. “Walk me out?” he asks her.
After they leave, I’m happy to have Kate all to myself for a few minutes. I run my fingertips over her lips before I kiss them. One thing’s for sure, I haven’t kissed her enough.
“When you wake up, Kate, I swear I’ll…” I trail off because I’m not sure how to finish my thought. I’ll what? Kiss her forever or just one more time before I run off with my tail between my legs?
I don’t have a clue, so I clear my throat and start over.
“When you wake up, Kate, I’ll be right here.” As of now, that’s my plan.
I chew on the inside of my lip, thinking I should say more. Let it all out in case she doesn’t wake up. Problem is, I haven’t figured out what "it" is. So, I ramble, hoping to fill in the missing pieces as I go. “You’ve been asleep for two days now, and I don’t have a fucking idea what I’m still doing here, Kate. When I saw you the first time, hooked up to the IV, I wrote you off as another chemo patient I’d see hanging around until you either went into remission or you…”
I don’t want to say the rest. I take a deep breath and keep talking. “Then I saw you in the parking lot, and my first thought was how beautiful you were. I couldn’t figure out how a girl like you could be throwing up in the parking lot like that. But then I recognized you from the chemo room. The two didn’t fit together—the girl outside with the girl with cancer. The girl outside was normal.
“You know, the day we had dinner in the cafeteria, I almost bailed. Even now, I don’t know how I ended up in the chemo room with you. Then we got to talking, and I realized that after all you’ve been through, you still smiled. Still hoped. Cancer didn’t take that away from you. That moment I knew how much better you are than me.” I feel the corners of my lips tug upward as the memory envelops me. “And how much I loved seeing you smile.
“I know you think you’re broken, but you’re not. You are so fucking far from being broken, baby. So far. Me on the other hand? Well, I see you and you make me less broken.”
My gaze wanders over her, and I lean in to kiss her again. How many more kisses I have left I don’t know, but I’ll enjoy each one until then.
The shifting of clothing alerts me to someone else in the room, and I look up. Leslie is standing in the doorway, her eyebrows perked.
“Don’t you knock?” I ask, irritated that she interrupted Kate and me.
“I’m sorry. I saw the Browdys leave, and I assumed she was alone.”
“Yeah, well you assumed wrong.”
She steps toward the bed. “Damian, what you said—”
Of course she was listening. Nosy bitch.
“What do you want, Leslie?”
She folds her hand over Kate’s. “To see her for a minute. That’s all.” The nurse watches Kate for a few moments. She wears the same expression my father had on earlier: worry. “She’ll pull through this. She always does.” What she says doesn’t match the tone in her voice.
Leslie pats Kate’s hand and heads for the door, but suddenly turns around. “Visiting hours are over, by the way.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She nods once at me before closing the door behind her.
~*~
“It’s late, Damian,” Marcy says as she digs through her overnight bag. She pulls out a toothbrush and toothpaste in a plastic bag.
“Um, about that. Would you mind if I stayed in here? I can sleep in this chair. I want to be here when she wakes up.”
She pauses, contemplating my request. “I’m sure the chair won’t be very comfortable.”
“Probably not, but I’ll make it work.”
“Hmm, all right. I’ll go ask one of the nightshift nurses for an extra pillow and blanket.”
I puff out a sigh of relief. If she said no, I’d have respected that. I wouldn’t have liked it, though.
My cell goes off, and I check the text. Another one from Ellie. I stare at the screen before I silence the phone without checking her message. Again. It stings, but I can’t deal with Ellie right now, and I sure as hell won’t be meeting her tonight for another round of playtime.
No, tonight I’m staying with Kate.
Day 3
When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is Kate, and it’s amazing. She has that effect on me. The only thing that could make it better would be waking up next to her outside this goddamn hospital.
I lift my head off the pillow I laid at the edge of her bed sometime in the middle of the night. My muscles are sore, but it’s a small price to pay to be this close to her. Marcy’s not in the other bed; she’s probably in the cafeteria eating breakfast. I’m not hungry yet—well, not for food anyway.
All I want to do is lie in bed with Kate. Have her wrapped inside my arms where nothing can hurt her. I fucking need this girl. I know it’s stupid to be with her. The longer I stay, the more entranced I become.
And that scares the piss out of me.
As my gaze wanders over her, I think of how it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I don’t know why, but I’m beyond caring about the reasons. In fact, all I care about is that Kate wakes up.
I push the pillow to the bottom of the bed, and carefully, I lay myself out on the small sliver of mattress on Kate’s side. I move the tubes so I don’t stop the flow of chemicals running into her veins. Even though they’re supposedly helping her, I want to rip them off. She shouldn’t have to depend on this shit to survive.
The machines beep steadily, and I assume I’m in the clear. I haven’t fucked anything up. I press my lips on her cheek and keep them there, breathing her in. The sterile scent of latex and bleach sticks to her, but underneath it I can make out her personal aroma. It’s something floral, I think. Whatever it is, it’s permanently etched into my memory.
“Come on, baby. Pull through this,” I whisper in her ear.
The medication is keeping her in the induced coma, and I don’t know how long my dad plans on maintaining this spectacle. It’s insane.
I glide my fingertips over her jaw, her lips, and down her neck. I can’t help pausing to feel her pulse. Actually feeling it thump against my finger is comforting. More so than hearing the stale, mechanic beep of the heart monitor.
“The offer still stands.” I’m not sure why I say it, I just do. “I can be better for you, Kate. I will be better for you.”
My phone goes off, and by the ringtone, I know it’s Ellie. I don’t know what she wants at this early hour. I haven’t checked the text she sent me last night, and even though I’m lying here with Kate, a part of me wants to jump off this bed and answer the call. It’s what I’ve done since Liam died—take care of his girlfriend.
I squeeze my eyes closed until voicemail picks up. When I open them and see the hoses sticking into Kate’s nostrils, something inside me shatters. I can’t keep doing this—needing Kate but unwilling to break it off with Ellie. I don’t know if I can stop, though. Not after all this time.
Not after what I
promised Liam.
“Why me, Kate? I’m a broken mess.” I sigh, gliding my fingers over the exposed skin on her chest.
I can’t figure out her hold on me. I just know that when I’m with her, it feels like she’s beginning to piece me back together.
~*~
Today, Marcy has her laptop out, her eyes moving from one side to the other as she reads. Her concentration reminds me of the zones Liam used to get into when he studied. If I had to guess, this has always been her custom when Kate’s in the hospital. Research the shit out of what’s happening to her daughter. Find answers. Something to explain why Kate is suffering and how to fix it.
I understand Marcy. I crave answers too.
Unlike Marcy, though, I don’t think there are any. Answers imply that life makes sense. That life’s fair. But it’s not, and no amount of research or hoping will change that. Life is just fucked up sometimes.
After lunch, Ellie texts me again. I stare at the screen, debating. Obviously, she needs me, but I know if I check the message, I’ll end up high-tailing my ass out of here to give her what she wants—an escape.
My gaze settles on Kate. There’s been no change since they admitted her, and I can’t decide if that’s good or not. No one seems bothered by it, so I guess I shouldn’t be either. Maybe it’s what’s expected at this point. Still, what if she takes a turn for the worse and I’m not here?
Not just not here. Not here because I’m out fucking Ellie, drowning myself in her so that I don’t have to deal with my own weaknesses.
No matter how much I want to be there for Ellie—numbing the both of us—I shouldn’t.
With my eyes on Kate, I slide my finger across the screen to silence the phone. If I can’t hear Ellie call me, I won’t think about her.
I slip the phone into my pocket, hoping the decision doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass. I’ve never not answered Ellie’s calls.
Marcy has returned to her computer, so I pull a notebook out of my bag. I’d rather work on this song with my guitar in hand, but I don’t want to disturb Marcy, and I sure as hell don’t want any of the nosy nurses on this floor sticking their heads in here uninvited. They do that enough as it is.
As I brush my fingers over Kate’s hand, I read what I wrote the other night. The song is damn promising, and the thought of singing it to Kate makes me smile. Really smile.
The right words never seem to come to mind
So tell me you love me
Or tell me you hate me
Tell me the world’s not over me
No, the world’s not over me.
I’m still scribbling over lyrics, tweaking them, when Mr. Browdy arrives after work. Marcy lays her laptop on the floor to greet him.
“Dr. Lowell said he’s going to keep her under until her blood work improves,” Marcy tells him.
“Any idea how long that might be?”
Marcy shakes her head in reply, and I glance away.
Did my dad know anything? Isn’t it his fucking job to know?
Mr. Browdy clears his throat before he walks over to Kate’s bed. Instead of addressing Kate, though, he says my name.
“Damian?”
I look up. “Yeah?”
He sets a sack on the nightstand and pulls out Styrofoam boxes. “I, uh, didn’t know what you liked to eat, so I ordered you a burger and fries. Is that okay?”
The man brought me dinner?
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“Kate mentioned once that you and she share a dislike for hospital food. It’s my pleasure.” He grins, handing me the box.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Kate’s parents sit opposite me, Kate’s between us, and I wonder if this is the routine families follow in the hospital. Using the bed as a table with the patient as the centerpiece. I’m not sure if that’s sort of funny or a tad bit creepy. Either way, I go with it.
“What are you working on?” Mr. Browdy asks, nodding at my notebook.
I’m not sure what he’d think of my music writing hobby. Normally, I don’t give a flying fuck what adults think of me. They don’t know me and they don’t care to, so it’s strange that I hesitate before I answer.
“It’s a song I’m writing,” I say.
“I noticed your guitar over there in the corner. You been doing that long?”
He seems genuinely interested. Huh.
“Yeah, since junior high.” I don’t mention that my father thinks it’s a waste of time or that my mother was the one who encouraged and supported me.
Mr. Browdy grins. “I used to play some when I was your age. I never had any formal training, though.”
Didn’t see that coming. Cool.
“I stopped taking lessons a couple of years ago,” I say.
After Mom died.
“You can learn a lot if you’ve got a good ear. Keep practicing. Music is a lifelong skill and well worth the effort you put into it,” he says, and just like that, I feel more at ease.
“Yes, sir.”
~*~
I can’t sleep. Marcy conked out two hours ago, but I’m awake as Tammy comes in to check on Kate and take her vitals.
“How much longer do you think my dad will keep her like this?” I ask.
“Well,” Tammy sighs, “he’s keeping a close eye on her blood work and—”
“That’s not what I asked,” I interrupt.
Tammy scribbles on Kate’s chart before her eyes land on me. “Kate’s cancer came back more aggressive this time. There’s no telling how long her body will take to fight the virus off, but I promise, Damian, your dad is doing everything he can.”
From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like Dad is doing shit. The longer I’m in this room with Kate and she’s not responding, the more pissed off I get. Has he even been here to check on her today?
My next question is on the tip of my tongue, but I have to force myself to ask it. “Is she going to be okay? No bullshit, Tammy.”
Tammy’s gaze moves to Kate’s face. She sees what I do: a girl that doesn’t deserve to be here. A girl on the edge of her life.
“Honestly, Damian, I don’t know.”
~*~
With the uncertainty Tammy laid out, the need to protect myself kicks in. I have to separate myself from this. From Kate.
After Tammy leaves, I dig my phone out from my back pocket. As soon as the screen lights up, I already hate myself for what I’m about to do. Maybe I can’t be better, because when things begin to fuck up, I run to Ellie as often as she runs to me.
She’s an addiction, like whiskey. It burns and soothes at the same time. I loathe it, I hate it, and I crave it.
I frown when I see how many missed calls and waiting text messages I have, all from Ellie. Nine texts and six calls since last night. She’s never been this desperate before.
What the hell is wrong?
It’s the only conclusion I come to, and it frightens the shit of me. If anything happened to Ellie and I wasn’t there, I don’t know what I’d do. I swore to Liam I’d take care of her, and I can’t break that promise.
Those were the last words I ever spoke to my brother, and I won’t let him down.
I take a final glance over my shoulder on my way out of Kate’s room. “Goodbye, Katie,” I mutter and close the door gently behind me.
Day 4
Ellie’s texts are bothersome enough, and I only read two before I check my voicemail. Her sobs assault my ear so I can barely understand her. The second voicemail is slightly clearer, left thirty minutes after the first.
“Damian, please. I don’t know who else to call. I need you. We’re in the emergency room at your dad’s hospital right now, and they haven’t told us anything. Just…when you get this, please call me. I don’t know what to do.”
Emergency room? Shit!
I doubt she’s still there since she left the voicemail last night. I scroll through the rest of her texts, skimming over them until I
find a room number. Then, I take off toward the elevators. I have no idea where I’m going, so I’m glad I run into Tammy.
“Hey, Tammy,” I say, stopping her. “Where’s Internal Medicine?”
Her brows furrow in confusion. “Uh…it’s clear on the other side of the hospital, on the first floor,” she tells me, pointing east. “Keep moving in that direction and you’ll run into it.”
“Great, thanks,” I say, offering no explanation.
While I’m riding down to the first floor, it dawns on me that I should have asked why someone would be admitted to Internal Medicine. I have no clue what to expect, or even if it’s Ellie that’s hurt. I sure as hell hope not.
Fuck! What was I thinking not answering her?
I jog down the hallways, keeping an eye out for the signs leading me to the right place. When I reach the nurses’ station in the east corridor, I duck around the corner. I’m not in the mood for explaining myself to any of them. If I’d been smart, I would have grabbed a set of scrubs from storage closet on the oncology floor.
Room 111 has its door cracked open, but that’s not what catches my attention. Like me, it seems Ellie can’t sleep tonight either. She’s sitting on the floor outside the room, legs curled up to her chest, eyes swollen from crying. Though, now it seems her tears have run dry. Her phone grasped in one hand, she stares at it before her fingers begin to move over the screen.
When she finishes, my phone goes off. This time, I check it immediately.
Where are you, Damian?
I don’t hesitate. Seeing her like this is messing me up.
Right here. Look up.
As soon as I send the text, her phone rings, and I’m taken aback by her ringtone for me. The chorus to Cassadee Pope’s “I Wish I Could Break Your Heart” sounds from her phone. I don’t get the connection.
Even from where I stand, I see the glisten of moisture gathering in Ellie’s eyes as she reads my text. Her lips part when she lifts her head, her gaze meeting mine from across the hall. Even without makeup, she’s beautiful. I’m so relieved she’s not the one admitted that I let out a sigh of relief.
Eight Days (Love Always #1.5) Page 3