by Sara Hubbard
“You can stop. I’m fine. I’ll head to the clinic in town in the morning and get looked at. I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.”
I stop dabbing his neck and take a step back. “Finally. Thank you.”
“So that means we’re having sex, then?”
“If you go to the clinic?”
He nods.
“Okay. Sure,” I say to appease him, though he actually doesn’t stand a snowball's chance in hell given how irritated I am with him. This is one lie I am seriously okay with. Greater good and all that. “Thank you.”
“For going to the clinic, or because that means you get to taste a piece of this?”
Ugh. He didn’t just say that. Really? He cracks up laughing in his still drunk state, but then winces from his body movements.
I frown at him. “There’s something seriously wrong with you.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
After I finish bandaging him up, I grab a large glass and fill it with water. “You lost a fair bit of blood. Drink lots to try and replace the fluids you lost. Take some Tylenol for the pain for now. Not alcohol.”
“Yes, doc.”
I roll my eyes. “Just try to stay out of trouble for the next twenty-four hours, okay?”
“Sure thing,” he says.
I glance back at Dean, who’s on the couch engaged in a quiet conversation with Ames. They don’t even seem to notice that we’re still here. “Dean?”
He turns to meet my gaze just as Sullivan says my name.
“Yeah?” I say to Sullivan
“I meant what I said. Thanks.”
“Of course.”
I take a step and he says my name again, his voice all but a whisper. “I…”
I put my hands on my hips and take a moment to think. I’m at the resort to work—as much as I can. I didn’t come here for friends, although friends are always nice, but friends like Sullivan? I’m not sure that’s a good idea. And I’m sure he can see it in my face.
“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
He nods and reaches up to cup the bandage on his neck. He’s going to feel awful in the morning. I'd hate to be him when he wakes up. Which makes me think about him going to the doctor. What if he doesn’t go? I groan internally, knowing that means someone will have to check on him to be sure. And for my own piece of mind, that person will have to be me.
Ten
I SIT AT the table, scooping up milk out of my cereal and letting it pour back into the bowl. I’m in my own little world and my thoughts run wild. I couldn’t sleep last night before seeing a bloodied Sullivan; after that, I stood no chance. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blood all over his neck, body and face. Those thoughts kept bringing me back to memories of my mother…
I’ve always wondered if Mom ever considered the mess she’d leave behind. If she thought about what her death would do to me and my family and to the person who found her. I had nightmares for almost two years after, and I still have them from time to time.
I worry about all the bad things Sullivan is doing to himself, how he seems so cocky and charming. Sound. But then, I know for him to be so self-destructive with women and alcohol and drugs…something must be eating away at his insides. I want to be the person he shares his demons with. I have no right to this. Who am I to him, after all? But I feel a connection to him like none I’ve ever had and I still know so little about him. I don’t know what it is that draws me to him emotionally. Sexually, I could name a lot of things, but emotionally? There's something there, on a deeper level. I know I’m not being smart right now. I know his destructive nature has the potential to drag me down with him, but it’s also his destructive nature that attracts me.
I drag my spoon through the milk in my cereal. I haven’t touched my food and don’t have the appetite for it. I can’t help but worry how Sullivan’s night went. I shouldn’t have left him. I should have stayed, made sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, because he most certainly vomited after I left.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Nicole says as she pads across the living room, heading straight for the coffee maker.
I force a smile and slump over my bowl, resting my chin on my folded hands.
“Oh! You made coffee. I think I love you.” She grabs a mug and pours herself a cup. No cream. No sugar. She likes it strong and black. Only a week of living with her and I know how she likes her coffee. I suspect she’d know how I would take mine if I drank it, but I never had the taste for it. Amazing, considering the coffee addict men I live with.
“I need to go over to Sullivan’s cabin today.”
“Sullivan Hope?” She doesn’t bother to hide her repulsion.
I shrug. Who else? “He got in a fight last night and cut himself up pretty bad.”
“Well, he’s a big boy and he’s not your responsibility. Trust me when I tell you that he’s his own worst enemy. The guy drinks like a fish and he’s always in some kind of trouble.”
“I tried to make him go to the hospital last night but he wouldn’t. I just…I shouldn’t have left him.”
“Abby, what are you doing? You went out on a date with Dean last night. Why are you talking about Sullivan and not Dean?”
“I don’t know.” I really wish I knew the answer to that. Then I could make some sense out of my tangled feelings.
“Dean is hot, rich and a nice guy. You should be thinking about him and not Sullivan. You think Sullivan is going to magically fall for you and change his ways?” She laughs and shakes her head. “Not a chance. He'll ruin you. Trust me.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“No. You hope I’m wrong. There’s a difference. But I know him better than you do. People like that don’t change. I’ve dated and been burned by guys like him my whole life. Guys like that end up losers. Sullivan’s only saving graces is that he’s rich. If he wasn’t, he'd end up working some shit job and living in a trailer park, cheating on his wife and spending his nights in the town bar. I’ve seen it happen. He’s not your problem.”
“But that’s just it. This is my problem. I treated him and he was drunk. He didn’t have the capacity to make a good decision. If something happens to him…I won’t forgive myself. Not to mention the fact that my school will probably kick me out for treating without supervision.”
She sighs and takes a seat on the stool beside me. She and I face each other and she frowns. “Even if he was sober, he wouldn’t have gone to the hospital. You did nothing wrong.”
So why don’t I believe her?
I jump off my stool and grab my purse.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to check on him and take his hungover ass to the doctor.”
Nicole smirks at me, and I have no idea what she’s thinking. I would ask, only I don’t care right now. Sullivan is the only thing that matters.
“You can’t fix everyone, you know.”
I stop dead in my tracks and spin around to face her. “What did you say?”
“I said you can’t fix everyone, Abby.”
With closed eyes, I take a deep breath in and out. How many times have I heard this phrase? From my brothers, my father, Julia… why does everyone think I have this intense need to save people? And what if I do? Is there anything wrong with that? I’m studying to be a nurse.
Nicole looks at me like she’s just said the worst thing in the world, and maybe she has. Only she can’t know what these words mean to me. The first time I heard this phrase, my mother had just died.
But they're all wrong. If I work hard enough, maybe I can fix people. And even if I can’t, I don’t see anything wrong with trying my hardest.
“I’m sorry?” She says it like a question, like she’s not sure what she’s done wrong but still feels the need to apologize.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “No. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t want to get in trouble, okay?”
She nods. “Sure.”
I grab my hooded swe
ater and pull it on before leaving the cabin. As I jog over to Sullivan’s, my phone begins to ring. I slow down and control my breathing as I pull it out of my purse. Clay. Crap. I’m too worked up to talk to him right now. He’ll know something is wrong, but then…if I don’t answer, he’ll never stop calling back.
“Hello?”
“Hey shortie, what’s up?”
“Um…nothing. Just going for a jog.”
“Since when do you jog? Is there a bear chasing you?”
“Ha ha.” I’m pretty active with outdoor stuff with my brothers, but running—I’ve never seen the purpose of it. Too solitary and too boring. Plus I don’t like to be alone too much with my thoughts; all running tends to do is give me time to think.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just on a stakeout.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Not really. Just waiting around to catch some punk with his pants down so I can turn him into an informant. He’s connected to organized crime.”
“No. Not interesting at all.”
He chuckles. “So…dad is going on a date.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “What?”
“Yep. She works the front desk at the station.”
“Gilda?”
“Yep. Michael and Dylan are going to help him get ready tonight. But they’ll probably put him in a wife beater and ripped jeans, so I think I’ll need to intervene.”
I want to talk to Clay right now. I feel like I’m missing out. Dad hasn’t dated since mom died so this is big. Really big. I chew my nails on my free hand. “Clay, I want to hear all about this, but I just…I need to finish up this run. Can I call you later?”
There’s silence on the other end of the phone. I close my eyes and pray he’s not suspicious, although I know very well he is. “Sure. Enjoy your jog. I want to hear all about it later, though. I mean, all about it.”
Shit. “Yeah. I promise.”
Dean is exiting the cabin as I reach the walkway. He has a backpack on and he’s dragging his wheeled luggage behind him.
“Dean? Where are you going?”
He sighs and tips his luggage back to sit on its wheels. He shoves his hands in his pocket. His eyes are intense and focussed on my face, as if searching for something. “Time to go.”
“Now? But…this isn’t because of me is it?”
“No. It’s not about you. It’s just time for me to go. I never stay here longer than a week or two anyway. Got to go and get back to my life.”
“Don’t go.” I say, closing the distance between us.
“Why? You want me to stay? You going to choose me over Sullivan?”
I sigh and look to my feet. “It’s not about choosing. He’s my friend and I want to help him.”
“He’s not. I can see it your face. I’ve been down this road before and Abby…I could like you. I could really like you, but I know that you’ll choose him over me. Girls just can’t help themselves when it comes to Sullivan. And when the chase is over, he’ll leave you in the dust.”
“I could have really liked you, too.”
He leans in and kisses my forehead. The sound of tires on gravel crunch behind me and I turn, shield my eyes from the sun. “Goodbye, Dean.”
He only nods as he walks to his cab. Before dropping into the seat he shouts out, “If you’re ever in LA, look me up, okay?”
“I will.”
I watch him drive away, wondering if I’m making a mistake. I could have dated Dean, grown to really like him. Hell, I did really like him. I like him still, but deep down I know he’s right. I care about Sullivan, more than a friend. And I need to figure out what that’s all about. It wouldn’t be fair to Dean to continue something with him.
After the cab is out of view, I walk to Sullivan’s front door. Sighing, I lift my hand and knock but he doesn’t answer, making me sweat. For a moment I wonder if he’s lying dead on the bathroom floor, but I know Dean, and he wouldn’t leave if Sullivan isn’t okay. I take a breath and tell myself to calm down before opening the door and letting myself in.
Sullivan stands at the counter in his boxers and nothing else. His dark hair is messy and sticks out on top. He holds a glass of what looks like tomato juice in his hand.
“Hey.”
He grunts and takes a drink.
My eyes pass over the bandages on his body, including the blood soaked gauze on the left side of his chest.
“Oh my God!” I hurry over to him and put my hands on his shoulders, but he takes a step back. “Look at you!”
“You did this to me?” he points to his wounds.
“I most certainly did not.”
He raises an eyebrow. His eyes are almost sealed shut, as if the sunlight streaming in blinds him. “I meant the bandages.”
“Yes. And you promised you’d go to the doctor today if you didn’t go last night.”
“I did?”
“Yes. You did.”
He shakes his head and takes another drink. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have agreed to that.”
“Well, you needed some convincing.”
He shoots me a quizzical look. “And how did you manage that?”
I frown at him. “Nothing happened, asshole. I said I would…I would…” This is so embarrassing, even worse that he doesn’t remember. What if he changed his mind? Maybe he’s been flirting with me this whole time and really doesn’t want to sleep with me. He better not be bluffing.
“Never mind.”
“No, I’m interested,” he says, smiling. “Tell me.”
“You’re such an ass. I said I would sleep with you if you went to the doctor!”
Someone clears their throat behind us. Ames rises off of the couch and walks toward his room. “That’s my cue.” He slams his door shut.
“You remember, don’t you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t, actually. But I’m interested.”
“I want to donkey punch you in the throat right now, you know that?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by donkey punch, but I'd like to find out.”
“Where are your keys?”
With his chin, he points to the jacket by the door. “In the pocket.”
“Come on.”
He chuckles. “I’m not going anywhere. You have to make good on your deal first before I make good on mine.”
“You need stitches, asshole. So help me God, if you don’t get in your car with me right now, I will scream at the top of my lungs!”
He winces as he laughs out loud at me. “Oh, come on. I promise you’ll thank me after.”
“You’re not in any shape to have sex this second, Sullivan.”
He looks down at his crotch and I notice there’s a teeny bit of tentage. “Oh, I think I could manage.”
“Get dressed and meet me out front. I’m not even joking.”
“I can see that.”
Sullivan lets me drive Jeep to the doctor. Mostly because I tell him he reeks of alcohol, and he subsequently refused to let me call a cab. He falls asleep in the car, which surprises me considering the screeching the car makes as I put it in and out of the wrong gears. “It’s just a rental,” he grumbles when I jostle him awake after kangaroo hopping the car. I guess that means he doesn’t give a crap if I wreck it.
When we finally get to the walk-in clinic in Harper, I heave a sigh of relief. I almost didn’t think we’d make it here without the engine falling out of the car. I turn to wake Sullivan and then I pause for a moment, memories I don’t want to remember surfacing. The smell of alcohol. The look of hopelessness. But I shake the images off…not wanting to remember one of the lowest periods in my life where I, a child, became the adult for a long while.
Sullivan breathes in and out in quiet snores. It’s rhythmic, almost peaceful. Or perhaps he’s just too tired to care about what he did to himself last night. Or maybe he really doesn’t care at all. You can’t help people who don’t want to be helped. Clay knows what he’s talki
ng about. A pillar of knowledge and helpful guidance, and yet I never could listen to him.
“Sullivan,” I whisper, gently pushing on his good shoulder.
“Hmm.”
I nudge him again. “We’re here.”
His eyelids flutter to reveal dull tired eyes. For a moment, he looks angelic, innocent. Salvageable.
“Why did you come back today?” he asks, quietly, as if he’s more musing to himself than asking a question. “I was kind of a dick to you last night.”
“Kind of?” I chuckle but not with humour. “You needed my help last night and you need me still. As long as you do, I’ll always be there for you.”
“Why? What’s in it for you? You know I’m going to lose my trust fund…my inheritance. It’s only a matter of time.”
I resist the urge to smack him. “I’m studying to be a nurse because I actually give a shit about people. I worried all night that you’d bleed out because some of your wounds need stitches and you wouldn’t go to the hospital. I gave in and let you have your way, but not today. Today you get fixed up for real. So get out of this car and march your ass in there. And don’t ever insult me like that again. Okay?”
He nods. “Okay.”
He ambles inside. He’s pale and I can tell he’s lost a fair bit of blood. He might even need a unit or two. Why did I listen to him? And he can’t stop falling asleep while we wait. At one point, his head tips to the side and rests on my shoulder. I tilt my head to rest on his and close my eyes, allowing myself a moment to collect myself as my sleepless night catches up with me, too. This is nice. Comfortable. And it makes me uncomfortable. It makes me wonder for a moment if Nicole might have been right. Is there more to my helping Sullivan than meets the eye...?