Page 15 of Bend
Probably no one really loved hospitals, but he’d spent more than his fair share of time in them. “I didn’t know that about the crops.” I’d barely finished high school, and had never even considered college, but Eli knew all sorts of interesting facts and history, and he’d dropped them here and there when we were together—never in a way that made me feel stupid, but more like he was just excited to share them. I stored the tidbit about Mars and crops away with all the others.
“Mm-mm. And the woodpecker was sacred to him.” He chuckled, and I knew he was waiting to see how I’d twist that into something obscene, but I was all out of quips at the moment, too focused on the tension around his eyes and worried he was lying to me about the amount of pain he was in. I had no idea I was such a damn concerned caretaker, but I didn’t like the sight of Eli in that bed. I got up, poured some water from a plastic pitcher nearby into one of the Styrofoam cups stacked next to it, and brought it over to him, taking his hand in mine as I held the straw to his lips. “You’ve gotta be thirsty, have a drink,” I commanded, and he quirked his lips into a tiny smile before protesting.
“I’m not thirsty, I just want to not be here. We’ve somehow reversed positions and now I’m the grumpy bear and you’re the Goldilocks.”
“That how you see us?” I cracked a grin.
“I’m not sure you could rock a frilly dress like I could, but I’d love to see you try sometime.”
“Maybe you’ll have to come on tour with us around Halloween, then.” I jiggled the cup invitingly until he sipped from the straw, then took a longer swallow, and I noticed he’d laced his fingers through mine. I liked that intimacy with him, the gentle warmth of it that hummed through me and felt right. The past week we’d mostly been down to the business of getting off, and yeah, there were moments of tenderness here and there, but this felt different.
“Us,” Eli repeated vaguely, then groaned again.
I pulled my hand from his and reached for the call button on his bed. “I’m getting you some more painkillers. There’s no reason you should be lying there hurting when you could be up there on that mountaintop with Hera and Zeus and the rest of them. It was Olympus, yeah?”
“Olympus,” he echoed, affirming with a nod before waving his hand through the air dismissively. “It’s not that. I mean, I’m not in that much pain.” My brows furrowed and he sighed. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Or was. I wanted to do something fun with you, something nice and sexy. Maybe even romantic. Another hotel. Room service. Chocolate-dipped strawberries that you’d hold between your teeth so I could nibble them. I figured it might be our last night together for… I dunno. ”
“Ease up, Cupid, I don’t even like strawberries.” I narrowed my eyes playfully at his frown, then set the cup down. My voice got softer with hesitation. “We haven’t really talked about all that. I figured it’d come up at some point or other, but we kept getting sorta sidetracked.” Actually, I’d gotten superstitious about the whole deal, afraid to broach the subject before the tour ended, afraid that if he didn’t want the same thing I wanted, that the remainder of the tour would’ve been awkward for both of us. Better, I figured, if we didn’t even touch that kind of talking until we got to New Orleans.
“Fucking.”
“Yeah, something like that.” I smiled and then reached into my pocket, pulling out the candy heart I’d shoved in there this morning. I folded it into Eli’s palm and kept my hand over his. “I have to tell you something.” His eyebrows flickered together in a wary frown before I continued. “I hate these things. I think they’re nasty, like postage stamp glue–flavored sugar, but now you’ve gone and gotten me addicted to ’em.” I squeezed his hand. “I was saving this one for tonight.” Not at all how I’d planned to go about this; in my head it’d been much smoother, the stupid candy heart placed on his pillow while he was in the bathroom or something. Then I’d lie back on the bed and wait to see what happened. I hadn’t accounted for broken bones and hospital visits.
He laughed and opened his hand when I released it, and I knew he was looking for the Sharpie overwrite we usually did, but this time I hadn’t, and once he realized it, a smile spread slowly over his lips and lit up his whole face. I didn’t know what the hell made me think a guy like him would ever be into a guy like me for more than a spell, but damned if I wasn’t willing to chance it, and seeing him light up like that made my heart gallop in my chest.
“Be mine?” He lifted a brow teasingly.
I shrugged casually. “It was either that or ‘You’re Fine,’ and I figured you already knew that every time you looked in a damn mirror. Though I guess you might’ve taken it as another version of ‘Ur alright.’” I tried to push my nerves aside the way I’d pushed the sight of his ankle aside; it didn’t work. “But you’re more than all right and just fine to me.”
Eli reached for my hand and twined his fingers through mine again. “It’s funny because I left you one, too. On your pillow before we offloaded at the station. You would’ve seen it if I hadn’t gotten myself trampled.” He flattened out my fingers, tracing the lines in my palm.
My hand twitched a little under the tickling touch. “What’d yours say?”
He started laughing then. “The same thing.”
“You’re shitting me.”
He shook his head. “I’m really not, and I was also nervous you’d laugh it off and I’d feel like an idiot.”
I gazed at him in disbelief that slowly ebbed. I’d been so focused on my own insecurities, I hadn’t really considered he might be battling some of his own. “I wouldn’t have laughed it off. Can’t deny I enjoy making you feel like an idiot sometimes, though.” I cut him a grin, and he dug the corner of his thumbnail into my palm until I winced. He wriggled around in the bed, hissing in pain when he jostled his foot, so I took him by the shoulder and eased him up, then fluffed the pillows behind him so he was more upright. While I was at it, I straightened his sheets because they were all twisted around him.
“But then you do stuff like that,” he said quietly, and when I gave him a confused look, he squeezed the pillow behind his head. “You tell me to be careful. Or you put your hand behind my head before you slam me into the wall—” He paused, his lips splitting into a grin as I started chuckling. “Stop. You did that once.”
“I remember, but there was that rack nearby with all those brooms and stuff on it.”
“I know, but you do considerate things like that even when we’re manhandling each other.”
“Yeah, it’s very romantic,” I said in a monotone. Did I mention I wasn’t great at taking compliments?
“Itis,”he countered. “And you told that asshole when we came in that you weren’t leaving my side until they took me back to the OR because you could tell I was getting panicky over being in a hospital again.Andyou still haven’t left, even though I know those stupid chairs are uncomfortable as fuck because my ex always complained about them and… oh god…” Eli shook his head and looked toward the ceiling as he took a deep breath. “Yeah, definitely no more pain pills. Anyway, so maybe you’re not romantic, traditionally speaking, but that shit’s overrated. Give me someone who’s got my back and will brave a hospital recliner over some shitty flowers any day.”
I knew what he was saying, knew he was thinking back on his cancer treatments, the ex who’d bailed. I wanted to crawl into bed with him and pull him into my arms, but I figured the both of us in it would probably break the damn thing, never mind wreck his ankle even more. So instead, I spread my hand over his chest, then leaned down, skimming my lips over the bridge of his nose on the way to his mouth. I brushed his lips with mine, his mouth cold from the ice water I’d given him, and he sighed into the kiss. “I’m yours if you’re mine.”
Eli squeezed the back of my neck keeping me close as he said softly, “I am very obviously yours.”
And oh what those words felt like to hear. Relief and happiness wrapped around me, then curled up in my chest. I couldn’t hide my grin, didn’t even try. And I also didn’t fool myself thinking it’d be easy to work out with our crazy schedules, but at least we both understood where the other was coming from in that regard.
He started chuckling as I straightened, and I gave him a questioning glance. “I have to ask: you said the hearts taste like postage stamp–flavored sugar. Have you actually beeneatingyours, marker text and all?”