by LK Farlow
He rules with an iron fist, hell-bent on total domination over me, but there’s this small sliver of my spirit that just won’t break, no matter how hard he hits or how loud he yells. There’s this tiny, microscopic part of my soul that keeps pushing me forward, that keeps me from wilting entirely and ending it all. That sliver of hope soothes me with lies—lies about a future without him. It tells me I can run, but deep down, I know better.
There’s nowhere I could go where he wouldn’t find me.
I jolt awake, momentarily disoriented by the rhythmic beeping coming from my right. Beep. Beep. Beep. Again and again, the sound causes my temples to throb. Even though my eyes are still pinched closed, I know this is not my room, and I am not in my bed. Without warning, the events that led me here flash through my mind: hitting Simon’s truck and the subsequent ambulance ride. I remember the CT scan, and being given pain medication. I must have fallen asleep shortly after that.
I inhale deeply, trying to get my bearings, and cringe at the smell of antiseptic hanging in the air. God, I hate hospitals.
Slowly, I try to blink my eyes open, only to immediately close them again. Whimpering at the brightness of the room, I sink farther into the small, firm mattress before steeling my resolve to try again.
I peel one lid open and hold it, adjusting, before peeling the other open as well. “So bright,” I whine to myself, squinting up at the light above me. My head feels like an entire drumline has taken it as their practice space; the thrumming and pounding is incessant.
With all the strength I can muster, I roll my head to face the far wall of the small hospital room, only to startle at the sight of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on sleeping in the chair in the corner, his light-brown hair messy, his chiseled jaw covered in stubble. “S-Simon?” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
All the same, he jolts like someone took a live wire to his skin. “You’re up?” He lunges from the chair toward me, gently taking my hand in his, scanning my body before bringing his deep-blue eyes to mine. “Are you—fuck, you have no idea how happy I am to see those baby-blue eyes right now. Let me call for your doctor.”
He starts to withdraw his hand from mine, and I let out the most pathetic whimper, halting him. “Don’t go,” I beg.
“Not going anywhere. Just gonna hit the call button,” he assures me, leaving me feeling foolish, even though that wasn’t his intention.
This time when Simon tries to release my hand, I let him. I allow my eyes to fall shut as he walks around to the other side of the bed where the call button is. I cringe at the shrill sound it makes and the subsequent static that filters through the speaker when the nurse answers.
“She’s awake,” Simon tells her, his voice full of something…a quality I can’t quite put my thumb on. Whatever it is, it sends a shiver down my spine.
More static. “I’ll let the doctor know. He should be by shortly.” And then glorious peace and blissful quiet—well, aside from the stupid monitors.
Softly, Simon runs his index finger up my arm, wrist to elbow, and back down again. “Do you remember what happened?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“Mmm…unfortunately, yes,” I say, dreading this conversation. “I-I remember hitting your truck and the a-ambulance ride here. I know they ordered a CT scan and I went to sleep after, but that’s it. What I don’t r-recall is you being here. Wh-why are you here?” I immediately regret the question, knowing it sounds beyond rude.
“Well, Goldilocks, I’ve been here the entire time—didn’t want you waking up alone. They just kept me in the waiting room until you were moved to a real room, seeing as I’m not family. Seraphine brought me, but I told her to head on home after she finished up your paperwork.”
I try to sit up, but Simon places a hand on each of my shoulders. “Stop. You need to rest.”
“Thank you, Simon. Is your truck okay?” I try sitting up again, but he just shakes his head at me.
“Don’t worry about my truck, it can be replaced—you can’t. I gotta ask though, do you remember how you wrecked?”
I open my mouth to answer him, only to close it again. Open, close. Open, close, like a fish gasping on dry land. Reaching as far back into my mind as I can, I come up with nothing. “No,” I whisper, feeling silly and defeated. “H-how long was I asleep?”
“Not long. We’ve only been here a few hours. You were asleep when they let me come up—scared me good, too. The nurse had to tell me they gave you something for pain and you were napping, not unconscious.”
“Simon, why don’t I remember what caused me to hit your truck?” I ask him, my voice brittle and pleading.
A man in a white lab coat enters the room. “Good to see you awake and alert Mrs. Ellington.” I visibly stiffen at his use of Mrs., my muscles tightly bunching before slowly releasing, my heart almost beating out of my chest.
“Ms.,” I croak out. “Ms. Ellington.”
The doctor glances from me, to my chart, and back again before roughly clearing his throat. “All right, Ms. Ellington. To answer your question, it’s quite common to experience minor memory loss after a concussion. With that said, there’s no need to worry as your memory should return just fine within the next couple of days. However, for the next week, you will need to rest, preferably supervised. Do you have anyone to watch over you?”
Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I start to shake my head, but Simon speaks up first. “Yes, sir, she’ll be staying with me.”
“Wonderful, and you are…” My doctor trails off, waiting for Simon to supply his name.
“Simon McAllister.” He shakes the doctor’s hand with a firm-looking grip. “Do you know when she’ll be released?”
“I’ve looked over her CT scan, and she can be released as soon as I finish her chart. A nurse will be along with discharge paperwork and aftercare information. It might take a bit with it being shift change, though.” My doctor, who never once introduced himself, turns to address me. “You’ll need to make a follow-up appointment for next week, and please, take it easy.”
Dr. What’s-His-Name turns and breezes out of my room, not waiting for a reply. “Was that weird?” Simon asks.
“V-very,” I agree. “Simon, you don’t have to let me stay with you, okay? I can ask Sera—”
“No,” he tells me, his tone leaving no room for me to argue. I wouldn’t call it harsh, but definitely firm—the way I picture him speaking to his students at the high school. “You will stay with me, you will let me take care of you, and you won’t complain about it.”
“What about your classes?”
“I’ll get a substitute. Now, hush up and rest like the good doc said. Want me to grab us some food?”
“Y-you can get something. I’m not all that hungry, to be honest. Thank you, though.”
Chapter Three
SIMON
“I’ll wait a bit,” I say as I lower myself back into my chair in the corner. Magnolia doesn’t reply though, because she’s already drifting back to sleep. Poor thing, she has to be so damn exhausted. With a quick glance at my watch, I note the time, reminding myself to wake her up in an hour to make sure she’s still alert and aware.
To pass the time, I shoot Drake a text. He’s more like a brother than a friend, has been by my side through every up and down in my life—and there have been a lot. Even when his parents divorced and he moved with his mom to fucking Arkansas, we stayed close, talking on the phone or messaging on AOL Instant Messenger daily.
Some people might think that’s weird—two dudes talking on the phone every day. Lord knows my dad did. He beat the snot out of me after that first long-distance bill came in. He wailed on me real good, not giving one shit that I was barely twelve years old. He called me every name in the book, taunted me, asked if I was talking to my boyfriend.
The day that man dropped dead, a weight like no other lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t feel an ounce of anything other than relief. Wonder what that says about me…
&n
bsp; After that beat-down, Drake made sure he called me or we chatted online. The day he moved back home was one of the best damn days of my life—and his too, seeing as how he met his girl, Azalea, that day, though they didn’t know it then. Hell, maybe they did, but either way, Drake fought tooth and nail for her heart, and he finally fucking got it.
Not two minutes after I texted Drake to check in, my screen lights up with his incoming call, and I run my thumb across the screen to answer. “Hey.”
“How is she? Want us to come up there?” Drake asks, sounding worried.
“Banged up, a few cuts and bruises, and a concussion. They’ll be discharging her in a little while, so y’all just go on home. She’s resting, and I kinda want to be alone.”
“I hear ya. I’ll tell everyone. You send Seraphine home too?”
“I did.” Honestly, I feel slightly guilty about it. After all, she’s Magnolia’s cousin, her only family down here, aside from her uncle Dave, Seraphine’s dad. “I’ll update y’all tomorrow.”
“All right, let me know if y’all need anything before then.”
“Will do, brother, and thank you, so fucking much.” I end the call and pull up the Super Bowl stats on my phone, not really caring about the game, but needing the distraction. Good news: my team’s winning.
I watch Magnolia sleep for a little bit, not caring if I look like a total creep. Just over two hours have passed when the discharge nurse knocks on the door, waking Magnolia. Without waiting for a reply, the nurse steps into the room. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“Yes!” Magnolia and I say together, though her voice is groggy.
“Wonderful. I just have a bit of paperwork.” The nurse turns to face me. “Hon, why don’t you run down to the gift shop and grab this lovely lady some clothes to wear home?”
I nod and set off to do just that. When I return to the room, I pass the bag of clothes to the nurse and step back out, giving Magnolia the privacy to get changed. While waiting, I shoot a text to Seraphine, letting her know we are just about ready to go.
“All good,” the nurse says, sticking her head out into the hall.
I rejoin them in the room and watch as Magnolia fills out and signs her discharge paperwork. Once her i’s are dotted and her t’s are crossed, the nurse steps out into the hall and grabs a wheelchair, which she promptly helps her into. Together, we all set off for the elevator.
I punch the down arrow, and we wait in silence for the elevator car to arrive. As we descend, the nurse goes over Magnolia’s care instructions one last time and tells us that her discharge packet contains the instructions as well, in case we need a refresher.
“Simon!” Magnolia cries out as we head for the main exit of the hospital.
“What?” I ask, searching her face for any clue as to why she’s so alarmed.
“Your truck! H-how’re we gonna get—”
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” I say just as Seraphine pulls under the covered circle drive.
“How did she know to come?” Magnolia asks.
“I texted her while you were gettin’ changed and let her know you’d be cut loose soon. Talk about good timing.” I wink, loving the smile she gives me in return.
Once Seraphine is parked, I open the passenger side door before stepping back to allow the nurse to assist her into the vehicle. After double-checking that she’s settled, I situate myself into the cramped back seat.
“So, where to?” Seraphine asks as she shifts from park to drive.
“My place,” I say, but Magnolia is quick to argue.
“I promise that isn’t necessary, Simon. Seraphine, you can drop Simon off at his place and then take me home.” I love the confidence she has when talking to her cousin. It gives me hope that maybe one day that stutter of hers will disappear when talking to me—I mean, to our friends…to all of us.
Seraphine catches my eye in her rearview mirror, and I subtly shake my head.
“But Simon said you had a concussion. Won’t you need someone to watch over you?”
“I can set an alarm on my phone,” Magnolia replies. Stubborn girl.
“Yeah, you could,” Seraphine says, and I tense up, not liking where this is headed one bit. “But, is your alarm gonna be able to help you if you get dizzy and fall?” My muscles slowly unclench, knowing Magnolia won’t have a comeback for that.
“I suppose you’re right. Maybe I could stay with you—”
It’s almost like they’ve forgotten I’m sitting back here, and that’s okay. I’m more than interested in Seraphine’s reply, not to mention, we’re well over halfway to my house—no point in turning back now.
“Mags, I’d love to say yes, but with Dad being the way he is, it’s probably not the best idea. Plus, Simon has that big house all to himself. He’s got plenty of room for you to stay with him.”
Magnolia makes like she’s going to turn to look at me, but the motion causes her to wince and face forward again. “Are you s-sure, Simon?”
“Positive, Goldilocks.” In the mirror’s reflection, I see Seraphine smirk at my nickname for Magnolia. With hair that looks like spun sunshine, I think it’s pretty damn fitting.
Chapter Four
MAGNOLIA
The rest of the drive from the hospital to Simon’s is silent, and I’m thankful for it. The pounding in my head is noise enough. I sure hope the bed in his guest room is comfy, because even though I practically just woke up, I’m still so beyond tired I can hardly keep my eyelids from drooping.
“Do y’all need any help getting inside?” Seraphine asks, directing her question more at Simon than at me.
“No, ma’am.” Simon unbuckles. “Thank you for the ride though.” I follow suit as he climbs out from the back seat and stretches something fierce before coming up to my door and opening it for me. He extends his hand to help me stand, and just like every time I touch him, little bolts of electricity pass from his skin to mine, making the small hairs on my arm stand on end.
“’Kay then. Y’all…have fun,” Seraphine says before driving off, leaving us standing at the base of the steps leading up to Simon’s front porch.
Wordlessly, Simon takes my hand and guides me up the stairs, pausing only to punch in his code before whisking us through the door. I’ve been to his house countless times with our friends for group activities, but never alone, never just the two of us. I don’t think I’ve even been anywhere in his house other than the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and back deck. It’s different, and the silence is unsettling.
Simon must agree because he flicks on the television for background noise before addressing me. “Follow me, and I’ll show you around.” Nodding his head toward the kitchen, he says, “You already know your way around in there, and you’re welcome to anything in the fridge or pantry.” He sets off down the hall and opens the first door on the left. “This is the guest room.”
I know he’s still talking, but my eyes bug out, taking in my surroundings. This room is breathtaking, with its misty-blue walls and thick wood molding, not to mention the white comforter on the massive bed that looks as fluffy as a cloud. This sure beats my secondhand, flatter-than-a-pancake mattress, that’s for certain.
I don’t come out of my reverie until Simon nods to the first of two doors inside the room. “This is the closet.” He moves around me to open the other door. “And this is the bathroom. Only has a standup shower, but if you want…” He trails off, letting his unspoken offer hang between us.
“Th-this is great—perfect, really,” I assure him, not wanting to be a burden, even though a bath sounds delightful.
“Great. Uh…” Simon pauses. Self-consciously, I tug at the waistband of the sweats he bought me. They’re so tight. Unfortunately, he notices my fidgeting. “Do you…do you want something else to wear? I mean, I know you don’t have anything else, but I’ll run to your place tomorrow, and until then you can wear something of mine. Be right back!” Before I can say a word, he darts out the door. I can hear him
rifling through his dresser, opening and closing drawers, and the thought worries me—sounds from one room really carry to the other. The last thing I need is Simon McAllister hearing me cry myself to sleep.
I listen as he pads back down the hall toward me then steps into the room clutching a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “Probably gonna be too big, but it’ll do for tonight.”
“Thank you so much, Simon.” As awkward as this may be, I truly am thankful. Out of our group, he’s the only one without any major responsibilities outside of himself, though it doesn’t escape me that the circumstances that led me to be here are my fault.
“Don’t worry about it. Get showered and changed, and I’ll see about getting us something to eat.” I nod, but he has more to say. “This is gonna sound weird, but I’d like you to leave the door open.” Simon must see the discomfort written across my face because he quickly continues. “I won’t even step one foot into the hallway, I just want to be able to hear you in case you get dizzy or need help. Scout’s honor.” He holds up three fingers.
“Okay, I believe you.” I watch as he turns to leave the room, only heading into the bathroom when I hear him start banging around in the kitchen.
It’s not that I don’t trust him per se, it’s that I don’t trust anyone easily. I’m not the naive girl I once was; Grant made sure of that. He marked me in a way that I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from, but here, in Dogwood, I can at least try.
I turn the knob for the shower, and as the water heats, I do my best to shake off the darkness of those memories. Stepping under the spray, I will the water to wash them away, along with the airbag dust and hospital smell. God, I hate that smell.
Freshly showered, I make my way back into the bedroom and quickly dress in the clothes Simon provided me. The pants are way too long, even on my five-foot-seven frame, and although I’ve rolled the waistband a few times over, they still drag on the ground. I pull the shirt over my head and savor the smell of Simon on it—a heady mixture of leather and spice—before pulling it all the way on. It fits a little better thanks to Simon’s lean physique.