Page 51 of Send It
Lincoln
The waiting rooms for the ICU are cold and almost damp as I wrap myself up in a blanket in the seat next to my brother.
“Why is he in the ICU?” Reiss asks my mom. “And why the fuck won’t they let us back there yet?”
She sighs, “You need to calm down. He’s in ICU because it was a complex surgery. It's normal for them to put him there for monitoring. He’ll be in a great deal of pain when he wakes up.”
Brian and Nana sit a few seats down and when I ask about Kim, I’m told that Colson asked her to leave. That doesn’t really surprise me, but I can tell that it infuriates my mom. I think it’s a tie between the shitty parenting and the carelessness. She just isn’t a fan of the woman anymore .
“What’s that?” I ask Reiss, nodding to the folder in his hand.
He grins holding it up, the words “Rules for Dating My Sister” written across the front.
I groan, yanking the folder from his hand and flipping through it. “You’re really going to give this to him while he’s in the hospital?”
“Yeah?” Reiss says, like it wouldn’t be weird or inappropriate at all. “You guys didn’t pick the best time to hard launch your relationship. This isn’t any different.”
I rip a page out of the folder, crinkling it up to toss it in the trash. “This is different. He’s on drugs and in pain. I think your demand sheet can wait until he’s out of the hospital, don’t you think?”
My dad laughs at us, “Man, what a weird week.”
“I know,” Brian says. “But can’t really say we didn’t all see it coming.”
Reiss grabs the wadded up paper out of my hand and flattens it out, “Oh no. This is a definite rule. This has to go back in there.”
Stas yanks the paper from his hand and reads it aloud, “Colson must spend a minimum of thirty minutes per date night with Lincoln playing XBOX with Reiss.”
Both of our dads laugh, my mom grabs the paper from Stas and wads it back up, “You have lost it, son. If he’s on a date with Lincoln you need to leave them alone. It’s no different than if he was on a date with someone else.”
“It’s totally different,” he whines. “What am I supposed to do while he’s over at the house and it’s for her? How will I know when he’s there for me or there for her?”
Mom laughs, “You are really overthinking this. ”
“I know,” I say. “He acts like he won’t have Stassie to pass his time with. I’m not giving her a rulebook.”
Stas smiles at me softly but Reiss isn’t having it.
“She’ll also be there to hang out with you,” he groans. “You stole everyone.”
Stas cuddles up to support Reiss when she sees Dr. Marlow entering the room.
“The surgery went great. He’s been in recovery for a while. When we get him set up in his room, I’ll send someone out to come get you.”
“Thank you,” Mom says and we all watch him walk away.
“So who gets to go back first?” Reiss says. “The girlfriend or the best friend?”
Everyone laughs at him because at this point we’re thoroughly entertained.
“Rock paper scissors?” I ask.
He nods but is pissed when I win and then requests the best two out of three and loses again.
“I win,” I smirk. “Guess the girlfriend goes first.”
About an hour later, the nurse comes in and tells us that he’s awake. Colson’s dad goes first but doesn’t spend a lot of time back there.
“Lincoln, he's asking for you,” he says .
I stick my tongue out at Reiss and strut past him through the glass doors into the ICU. When I see him laid up in the hospital bed, my heart flips. It almost looks like he’s been crying.
“Hey dipshit.” I say, walking over to the side of the bed, running my fingers through his dark blonde hair.
He nods to the corner of the room, the Harry Styles cut out staring at us. His voice is rough, “That thing scared the shit out of me when I woke up.”
“Oh my god. Reiss is such an asshole.”
He smiles softly, “Payback for falling in love with baby Bane.”
His words make my stomach flip. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” he says. “But maybe I’ll be able to walk after this.”
“I know you will,” I say. “If anyone can, it’s you.”
His head falls, “And if walking is all I ever do? If I don’t ride again?”
He’s definitely doped up because we’ve had this conversation before.
“I don’t love you because you win races.”
He drags the back of his hand over his forehead in a relief gesture, “That’s good because I think I’m gonna be building bikes for you to race. You know, bum leg and all.”
I smile, taking his hands in mine. “That sounds perfect.”