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“How’d you sleep?” she asks, setting her cup down on the tray next to my bed.
I shrug. “Okay. You?”
“Actually pretty good. It was nice to get that stupid cast off.”
My eyes drop to her hand and I notice she’s no longer wearing the hard cast but a splint. “I bet.”
Our conversations fade away as my eyes move to her body again. I shift in the bed, breathing heavy.
“Are you in pain?”
I shake my head. “More like in frustration.”
“I can’t imagine. It has to be hard to stay in this bed so much.”
I want to laugh that she thinks I’m referring to being in this bed. And while I suppose in way it has a little to do with that, it’s more about wanting to pick her up and make her straddle me on the bed. I’d take that stupid pink tank top she’s wearing off and reveal her breasts I dream about in my mouth.
Fuck. Arching in the bed, I shift again, my body stiff and exhausted. And there lies the problem with everything I want to do. I can’t. I can’t pick her up. I can’t kiss her the way I want because just tilting my head sometimes leads to a blinding headache. And forget about holding her. My chest and stomach hurt so goddamn bad that even simple heavy breaths can send a pain through my entire body so sharp I break out in a sweat.
So while I want to laugh, I don’t even have the energy for that anymore.
“Are you hungry?” she asks. “I brought a muffin for you. Banana chocolate chip. Your favorite.”
I look at the muffin, then her face. Her devastatingly beautiful face, free of makeup and finally, bruises. “I’m not hungry for food,” I tell her, my eyes drifting south.
At first, she doesn’t pick up on what I mean. And then she does and a giggle leaves her lips. The sound rings through the room and the corners of my mouth twitch into a half smile. She leans in and kisses my cheek.
Her simple touch, the scent of her shampoo, sends a rush through my entire body, both intense and overwhelming. Even a touch from her can be exhausting. I’m not sure why, but they tell me it has to do with sensory overload and it’s normal. For me, it’s frustrating and only leads to even more infuriating agitation.
I want so many things, yet I’m trapped inside my own body, screaming for something to give.
56
EVIE
After forty-two days in the hospital, Grayson is being released. It’s a Monday, not that it matters. For some reason, that saying it’s the Mondayest Monday ever rings in my head.
Probably because Grayson is in a horrible mood.
“Are you excited?” Leigha beams at Grayson, who is currently struggling to tie his shoes.
Yesterday he could.
Today, as with every day, he struggles with simple tasks. Balance is a huge issue for him, as is hearing. Currently, he can’t hear out of his left ear, but they tell us with a surgery, they can fix that. He’s had three surgeries since he’s been here. The first one to fix the initial bleed. The second one when they found a new spot bleeding, a third to put back the piece of his skull they took out. The worst for me was watching him be extubated and having the chest tube removed. But this, watching him struggle to do simple tasks after he’s been through so much, feels worse. Things he used to do, he can’t.
Naturally, given his salty attitude today, and every day, he doesn’t answer Leigha.
I nudge his shoulder with my hand, urging him to reply toher. She smiles at me, winking. She loves teasing him. I think he’s her favorite patient so far.
With a heavy sigh, he rests his head in his hands, his elbows planted firmly on his knees. He lifts eyes to Leigha. “Ecstatic,” he mumbles, fumbling with his shoelaces again.
“I can help with that.” I kneel next to the stool his foot is propped up on, wanting to help him. He has to use a stool to tie his shoes because he can’t bend over. If he does, blinding headaches.
He takes my hands in his and gently pushes them away. “I can do it.”
He’s not harsh in his words, but it still tears at me that he refuses my help.
I back away and let him. Leigha wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Remember what I said. He’s not going to be himself for a while. He’s still got a long road ahead of him.”