A Grateful Kind of Love

by Ellie Wade

  “Me, too,” Bass says and follows me into the restaurant.

  We make our way down the vibrant colored hallway to the restrooms.

  “De las mujeres it is,” Bass says, following me into the ladies’ room.

  He turns to lock the door, and I go into the stall to pee.

  “What is going on out there, chica? I feel like I’m missing a whole lot of underlying shit.”

  I giggle from inside the stall. Standing, I kick the toilet flusher with my foot and walk out.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask him as I wash my hands.

  “Is Landon serious about Abby?”

  “You know I can’t keep up with him and his girlfriends. I stopped trying to figure out what he sees in the women he dates a long time ago,” I answer.

  Bass runs his fingers through his hair. “Okay, but is she always so dense?”

  “Pretty much.” I nod, causing Bass to laugh.

  “Okay. Then, tell me what is up with you and Gage. You’ve rolled your eyes in his direction more than you’ve smiled.”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “Well, no. He’s being kind of obnoxious tonight.”

  “I know,” I agree. “He’s been that way a lot lately. I don’t know what to do about him anymore.”

  He raises an eyebrow and holds my gaze. “Do you see a future with him?”

  “Most days, I think not.” The admission comes easily.

  He laughs at my response. “Then, kick him out.”

  My face warms with the awkwardness that is my love life. “He’s not even completely unpacked. I’d feel bad, kicking him out so soon.”

  “Puh-lease, Amy. You’re twenty-seven, and you’re not getting any younger. Now is not the time to keep around a boyfriend who clearly drives you crazy.” He supplies me with an amused smirk.

  “Okay, but just an hour ago, you said that we were doing good, that I was doing good.”

  “Yeah, well … that was before I realized that you’re living with a guy you don’t even love because you’re too chickenshit to boot him out. He’s not a gaudy sweater that you can keep around to wear once a year when visiting your mom because she got it for you as a gift and you don’t want to hurt her feelings. He’s a person—and not a particularly cool one at that. Kick his ass out,” he says with conviction.

  I purse my lips and narrow my eyes. “So, what I’m hearing you say is that I should end things with Gage?” Sarcasm lines my voice.

  Bass snorts. “God, yes. That is what I’m saying, chica.”

  There’s a knock on the restroom door. I unlock it and pull it open to find a woman holding a little girl’s hand. From the back-and-forth dance the toddler is doing, I can tell she has to go badly. Accusation mars the woman’s features.

  “Sorry,” I offer with sincerity as I step past her before returning my attention back to Bass. “Twenty-seven isn’t old, Bass. Just because you’ve got your shit together and you’re settled down in marital bliss doesn’t mean everyone our age is there yet.”

  “It’s too damn old to settle for less; that’s for damn sure,” he quips.

  “I’ll fix it,” I tell him because, truthfully, I’ve known for a while now that Gage isn’t the one for me.

  “You’d better.” He links his arm through mine, and we walk back out to the patio.

  Landon shoots us a why the hell did you leave me alone with these two look, and Bass and I both burst into laughter at his expense.

  Before I know it, I’m pulling away from Detroit Metro, having dropped Sebastian off to catch his flight. His visit went by way too quickly, but I loved every moment with him. And he’s right; besides the whole boyfriend aspect of my life, I’m doing pretty damn good, and it’s awesome.

  Amy

  Landon.

  Peanut noodles.

  Titanic jokes.

  I close the entry door behind me and trudge through the foyer. My entire body aches with exhaustion. I’m coming off of my third night shift at the hospital—the third one is always the worst. My body isn’t meant for multiple consecutive days of hectic work with little sleep, but that’s the life of a nurse.

  Last night was particularly awful because I had a seven-year-old who’d had a horrific run-in with some fireworks. Why people are shooting off fireworks in September is beyond me. He came to me after his surgery right when I was supposed to be getting off work. But the nurse relieving me had car trouble and was late. So, my twelve-hour night turned into a sixteen-hour one.

  I love my job at the University of Michigan Mott Children’s Hospital. It’s my dream job. I’ve always wanted to work with children. Helping them and their parents navigate illness can be physically and emotionally draining but also very rewarding.

  At least I have the next four days off.

  I drop my keys and purse on the table in the foyer and take a step toward my room. I open my mouth to yawn, and suddenly, I’m flying through the air. I turn, so I’ll land on my butt, but my sleepy mind calculates wrong. I land on the bony part of my hip, my foot bends to the side as it hits the ground, and my cheek smacks into the hard tile, causing a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” I cry against the cool floor.

  Deep breaths.

  My face stings, but I think I avoided a major head injury. My hip is definitely bruised. I lie still and attempt to wiggle my foot. Sharp pains shooting through my leg put a stop to that endeavor.

  Please don’t be broken.

  I slowly sit up, and the first things I notice are Gage’s shoes in the middle of the floor, right where I tripped.

  I pull in a long breath, and I cry harder. How many times do we have to argue about him not leaving his shoes in the center of the walkway?

  I can’t even deal with him right now.

  This is Karma, plain and simple. I should’ve spoken to Gage about our relationship already. I put my lack of ending things off to my long workdays, but let’s be honest; I’m a coward who sucks at breakups, and this is what I get for it.

  I look to my foot, which has started to swell. I gingerly move it back and forth and come to the expert conclusion that it isn’t broken, just painfully sprained.

  I get to my feet and hobble to the kitchen, careful to put as little pressure on my foot as possible. I fill a baggie with ice and take some Motrin before limping cautiously toward my bedroom.

  Gage’s shit is all over the bed. Sighing, I lift the covers and shake his stuff onto the floor. I climb into bed, place the bag of ice on my ankle, and pass out.

  I try to shut the pain out.

  Go away.

  Ugh.

  The loud voice echoes within my skull, bouncing back and forth like a wrecking ball.

  It hurts. My head throbs.

  I reach over to the nightstand to grab my phone. Meanwhile, Gage’s booming phone conversation continues.

  “No way, man! Yeah, I’m totally down. What time? Absolutely. When is Spencer getting in? Nice!”

  It’s three o’clock. I’ve been asleep for two hours. No wonder I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck. As I shift onto my hip, a sharp pain reminds me of the other reason I feel like death.

  The fall.

  “Okay, yeah. See ya there.” Gage finally ends his call and notices I’m awake. “Hey, babe,” he says cheerfully.

  “You know I worked last night.” I groan in frustration. “I’ve literally been sleeping for two hours.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll be out of your way in a bit. I just have to grab a few things.” He rifles through his dresser.

  I want to throw something at him.

  I lie back against my pillow, wishing him away.

  “So, I’m going out with some of the guys tonight. Okay?”

  “Fine,” I utter.

  I try to move my foot, and I grimace at the pain.

  “How was your night?” Gage asks from the closet.

  Is he serious?

  “Please go away,” I say, unenthused.
r />   “Someone’s cranky.”

  “Ya think?” I scoff. “I’m tired, Gage, and you’re so loud. And my entire body hurts because I fell over your damn shoes in the entryway and about killed myself.”

  He chuckles. “You’re such a drama queen.”

  “Uh, I totally am not.” I roll my eyes in his direction.

  “All right. Well, you get some sleep, grumps, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll probably end up crashing at Smitty’s house tonight.” He leans down and kisses me on the forehead. “Bye, babe.”

  I turn over onto my good hip, away from Gage, and close my eyes. He doesn’t deserve a response.

  What seems like moments later, I’m woken by the vibration of my phone. I reach out to grab it.

  There’s a text from Landon.

  Landon: I need you.

  I text back.

  Me: Go away. I’m sleeping.

  Landon: It’s seven o’clock, lazy bum.

  Me: I worked late.

  Landon: Aw, I’m sorry. Text me when you’re up.

  Me: It’s fine. I’m up. Why do you need me?

  I sit up and scoot back against the headboard. My whole body hurts.

  Landon: I need you to help me write my speech.

  Jax and Stella’s wedding is next weekend, and Landon’s the best man.

  Me: That should really come from you. Don’t ya think?

  Landon: You can write how I feel better than I can. Please?

  Me: Okay, fine. But I can’t make it over tonight.

  Landon: Why? Plans with the BF?

  Me: No, the BF’s out. But he almost killed me.

  Landon: What?!

  Me: I fell, tripping over his shoes.

  Landon: Jesus, Amy. I’m having heart palpitations.

  Me: LOL. Sorry! I’m just really sore.

  Landon: I’ll come to you.

  Me: Okay. Bring food.

  Landon: Aye, aye.

  I don’t leave my bed. Instead, I doze in and out as I wait for my food to arrive.

  “Hey, Ames.”

  My eyes open wearily at the sound of Landon’s voice.

  “Hey,” I say sleepily.

  Landon tilts his head to the side. “You don’t look too good.”

  “I don’t feel too good,” I answer.

  I love hanging out with Landon and normally feel nothing but excitement when we find time to see each other. Yet, right now, all I can focus on is the intense agony radiating from my ankle.

  I point toward my foot. “Can you pull the blanket off of my legs?”

  Landon pulls my comforter back and gasps, “Holy shit, Amy! Your ankle!”

  My ankle is swollen and turning various shades of bright purple. “Ugh,” I groan. “I know. I sprained it bad.”

  “Are you sure it isn’t broken? Maybe I should take you in?” His eyes are skeptical as he stares at my foot.

  “I’m sure. It’s a sprain. They’ll just tell me to take pain meds, ice it, wrap it, and stay off of it. I already know all that. I don’t want to waste my evening sitting in the ER.”

  “Okay.” He shakes his head. “You’re the medical professional.”

  “Can you please help me to the bathroom?”

  “Sure.” Landon reaches out his hand, and I grab it. He helps me stand.

  The second my hurt foot touches the ground, an intense pain radiates from it, causing me to yell out. Letting go of Landon’s hand, I fall back onto the bed with a whimper.

  “Oh my God, Amy.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I sigh, trying to ignore my throbbing ankle.

  Landon takes my arm and positions it over his neck. He proceeds to slide one of his arms under my legs and wraps the other around my back, lifting me off of the bed.

  I lean into him as he carries me to the bathroom. He leaves me in the bathroom to go get me some ice. I brush my teeth and wash my face. Afterward, I pivot over to the toilet, taking special care to only touch my good foot to the ground.

  Landon comes back with a bag of ice and finds me standing like a flamingo, balancing on one leg, the other bent at the knee under me.

  “I really need a shower,” I apologetically tell him. I cringe, thinking of all the germs and possible fluid splatters I have on me right now from the hospital.

  Crap, I need Landon to change my sheets, too.

  “Okay. How do you want to do this?” he asks.

  I look toward the shower, biting my lip in thought.

  “I can help you get undressed. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” He chuckles.

  “Landon,” I chastise him.

  “I can close my eyes when I take your clothes off.” He grins.

  “Uh, this sucks.”

  “Where is Gage, by the way?”

  “He’s out with friends.”

  “He just left you here, like this, alone?” Landon asks, irritated.

  “I don’t know if he knows I’m hurt.” I shrug. “I think I told him when he woke me up earlier, but I can’t be sure. It doesn’t matter. Whatever.” I dismissively wave my hand. I don’t feel like talking about Gage right now. “How about this? Can you just lift me into the shower? I’ll get my clothes off in there and turn on the water. When I’m done, can you help me back to the room?”

  “Sure.” Landon lifts me in the tub and closes the curtain.

  After an awkward shower where I stand on one leg and lean against the wall for most of it, I dry off and wrap my towel wrapped around me.

  “Landon!” I call.

  “Ready?” he asks as he enters the bathroom.

  “Yes, just be careful that the towel stays on, please.”

  He chuckles, and I hold my towel tighter. “You got it.”

  Landon grabs me some comfortable clothes from my dresser drawers as I give him commands from the bed. When I have everything I need, he leaves the room.

  “Okay!” I call out after I’m finally dressed.

  I can’t believe how badly I messed up my ankle earlier. I’m so glad Landon’s here to help me.

  He opens my bedroom door and steps in.

  “Yes?” he asks.

  I raise my arms up like a needy toddler, causing Landon to laugh. He scoops me up and carries me to the living room.

  He’s set up dinner for me on the coffee table in front of the couch.

  “Aw, veggie lo mein, my favorite. Thank you,” I say as Landon sets me down.

  I’m starving.

  Landon disappears into the kitchen as I shove a forkful of peanut noodles into my mouth. He comes back a moment later with another bag of ice, some Motrin, and a glass of water.

  “Aw, you’re such a good nurse. I think you missed your calling,” I tease as I take the medicine from him.

  “No way. I don’t mind taking care of people I love … but strangers? No, thank you.”

  I take a sip of water. “True. There’s definitely a difference. Though, depending on your loved ones, strangers are sometimes easier.”

  Landon plops down beside me. “Yeah, I think I’m good. So, tell me, how did all of this happen?” He motions to my entire body, referencing my many injuries, but his facial expression causes me to laugh.

  I tell him the harrowing story of my trip and fall over Gage’s shoes, including the slow-motion version where I gracefully navigated my body midair to avoid additional injury—sort of.

  He shakes his head. “It’s not fucking hard to take care of his shoes.”

  “I know,” I sigh. “Living with someone is hard. There are many things that annoy the crap out of me.”

  Gage moved in with me a couple of months ago. We’d been dating for six months prior to that. Living with him has been a challenge. It’s made me see aspects of his personality that I didn’t notice when we lived apart, and honestly, many of them are completely irritating.

  “I’ve been over here when you’ve asked him—nicely, I might add—to put his shoes to the side or in the closet. It’s not that hard, Amy.” He looks at me. “You’re really banged
up, and it could’ve been avoided. And it’s not just the shoe thing. The guy’s kind of a douche.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m seeing that. There’re a lot of things that have been driving me crazy lately. And I don’t love him enough to look past it all, you know?”

  “Well, you need to talk to him.”

  I lean back into the sofa. “So I’ve heard. I know. I just hate this stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “You know, hurting people. It’s so uncomfortable.”

  Landon sits back beside me, putting his feet up on the ottoman. “I know, but you don’t want to stay with someone just so you don’t hurt his feelings. Plus”—he cocks up an eyebrow—“this isn’t anything against you, but I don’t think Gage will care that much. He’s pretty self-absorbed.”

  “Yes, he is,” I agree with a giggle. “I’m a mess. The first guy I decide to live with turns out to be a total no-go. Ugh,” I groan.

  “At least you tried, right? It’s better to know you’re not compatible sooner than later.”

  “True,” I say before tapping my hand against Landon’s knee. “Enough about my depressing love life. So, you need to write a speech?”

  “Yeah, maybe a short one—like a toast for the rehearsal dinner and then a decent-sized one for the wedding. I honestly don’t know what to say. I barely know Stella.” He gives me the look—the one that all of our family has when talking about Jax and Stella’s upcoming nuptials.

  “I know,” I say with a sigh. “But you do know Jax. Make it about him, his good qualities, maybe a few funny memories about you two growing up?”

  “Yeah, I can do the qualities. It’s the funny anecdotes from our childhood that I’m having trouble with. Do you realize that most of the good ones that I remember, the ones that are speech-worthy, have something to do with Lily? Either she was there or she’s a part of the story somehow.” He leans his head back with a frustrated groan. “This is fucking weird, Ames.”

  I nod because I completely agree.

  Jax and Lily started dating each other the spring of my sophomore year of college. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when they announced they were going to date. Those two had been made for each other. They were together with no problems for almost four years, and then, when Lily was at Central University, during her junior year of college, they broke up. Lily dated someone else, and Jax probably did, too—though I’m not certain. I was never really worried though. I saw it as the two of them finding themselves and always figured they’d find their way back to each other. We all did. Then, a few months ago, Jax dropped the bomb that he was marrying this girl named Stella, who none of us even knew. The next thing I know, Lily, who is now graduated and a photographer in New York City, has offered to shoot Jax and Stella’s wedding photos because he’s her best friend. The whole thing is severely messed up.