Save Me

by Alexandra Page

  I reach out and grab her arm, tugging her towards me. She comes willingly, but stays on her elbows so we can look at each other. “You do have one, and I intend on it staying that way.”

  She traces her fingers down my cheek. “In case you didn’t hear me the first time I said it the other day, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll take a kiss in return, if that would work for you?” I ask giving her the sweetest smile I can.

  “I think I can spare one,” she says with a smirk, leaning down slowly.

  I slide my fingers into the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her a little closer until her lips touch mine. It’s probably not a movie-worthy kiss, but it’s soft and sweet, makes my heart pound, and makes me want to kiss her more. I keep it PG so she doesn’t have to deal with my morphine breath, and because I know I can’t rush things with her now. This thing with us is going to have to be slow and easy. I loosen my grip on her neck. She pulls back and smiles softly.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, “Now can you help me turn over, I want to hold you.”

  “Nik, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Please? I’ve wanted you to lay down with me all week. I know we can be careful,” I say, trying to convince her.

  She gives me an impatient look, but gets up and helps me gently move my left leg back over the right as I slowly roll over. I only grunt when my left shoulder touches the bed and when she slides a pillow under my leg. After adjusting the covers so I’m decent, she carefully lays down on my right side, but she’s stiff as a board.

  “Put your leg over mine,” I tell her.

  “Nik.”

  “Ellie.”

  “Fine,” she grumbles and picks her own leg up–way higher than she needs to–and gently lays it over my right hip so that it rests between my legs.

  I nudge her right arm until she lays it over my stomach, and then let out a sigh. “That’s much better. I can stay in this bed for weeks like this,” I whisper.

  “I doubt they’ll let us, but it is nice,” she whispers back.

  I close my eyes, and kiss her head as I play with her hair. I doubt five minutes pass before she’s asleep. I let myself drift off after her.

  BRING ME TO LIFE

  ~

  ELLIE

  I’M BACK AT THE VACATION house hoping to sleep tonight. I’ve had a few nightmares this week that, so far, Nik’s slept through. I decided to leave so he wouldn’t witness my nightly freak show now that they’re slowly weaning him off the morphine. He won’t be sleeping as deeply anymore. I couldn’t risk waking him up with my screaming.

  I thought last week was long. This one has been hell-bent on proving me to be a naive idiot. Every day has crept by slower than trying to pour cold molasses on your pancakes in the dead of winter. Not to mention the mental, emotional, and physical strain of the whole situation. Mostly for Nik, but for me, too.

  Once Leia left to go back to London, the rest of the crew went back to their lives. Cash and Scott have come by two evenings each, but they haven’t been able to stay long. They’re both playing catch-up with their jobs. There’s been plenty of nurses coming in every thirty minutes, a few doctors once or twice a day, and the physical therapists, too, but other than them, it’s just been me and Nik.

  I would love to say I’m at ease around him now that he knows about my past, but I can’t. I could take all the blame for my continued nerves, but I don’t think I can do that either. I’m sure a large part of it is still my anxious perception of everything, but it’s been terribly tense and awkward between us. Because as I feared, he’s been acting different since we woke up from our nap last week, despite how well he seemed to have taken my past at the time.

  He did have to tell Leia goodbye that evening, and it really could be him missing her and his friends, but I’m fairly certain that’s not all of it.

  It hurts, but I have to admit I don’t know Nik well enough to know what’s going on with him. I do know he’s been through hell the past two weeks so he has a right to be depressed and out of sorts. He was headed that way before I told him, which is exactly why I didn’t want to tell him. But what’s done is done, and I can’t undo it. I can only be here for him like I promised. I didn’t stay to help him in hopes of us ever being a couple anyway, not that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind more times than it should have.

  We have held hands a few times, but I haven’t taken any more naps with him, and he hasn’t tried to kiss me again either. I know he’s afraid of pushing me, and I’m too afraid to ask him to. I’ve stolen a few from his cheek or forehead while he was sleeping though. I hate the fact that I can breathe better when he’s asleep, but my nerves calm to tolerable levels when his eyes aren’t trying to strip my soul bare.

  Those crystal blue orbs of his are not only breathtakingly beautiful, they have the uncanny ability to convey every emotion known and unknown, sometimes all at once. His face can be completely void of feelings, but his eyes will be doing everything in their power to undo me. The number of times I’ve had to look away from them as they stare at me is ridiculous. They can cause my eyes to flood and my heart to break almost as fast as they make it flutter and my cheeks redden. I even had to leave the room two different times early in the week so he wouldn’t see the anxiety attacks his intensity caused me to have. After the second time, I knew he knew why I had to walk away, because he tried his best to rein in his staggeringly expressive eyes by not looking at me most of the time. It only made things more tense between us.

  I don’t think he’s doing any of it to purposely make things harder, it’s just him trying to make them better. Either way, he’s going to be the death of me–and here I thought he had saved me instead.

  The worst part is we’ve both been pussyfooting around each other’s feelings all week, even worse than we were before. Both of us are afraid to upset the other, I guess. He probably hates me doing it to him as much as I hate him doing it to me.

  I’ve done my best to stay as upbeat around him as possible anyway, and he’s tried to do the same, even though I know he’s anything but. We talk, but we both strain to keep conversations from becoming too deep. It’s unspoken, but my past and his both seem to have been taken off the list of subjects to talk about. We seem to feel safer that way. There have been some encouraging moments, so it really hasn’t been all bad.

  They got him out of bed for the first time Tuesday morning. He was way too weak and wobbly to stand on his own, but with the help of two PT’s he was able to walk the few steps it took to get to the recliner and sit down. They took things slow with him. The whole process, from sitting him up on the bed to him sitting in the chair, took a good fifteen minutes. It wouldn’t have taken a healthy Nik two seconds to get there.

  He was able to walk on his broken leg, much to our surprise. It took the PT’s several minutes of convincing him to even try it, but he finally did. He never put his whole weight on it, but the therapist said in a couple of weeks he should be able to. I could easily see the pain and frustration the effort caused him, but the relief of being out of bed soon overrode it.

  A few minutes after sitting down he looked over at me with a beautiful smile on his face. It was the same one he had given me the day I met him. I couldn’t help smiling back, or the tears that slipped down my cheeks, but they made him stop smiling, so I dried them up quick.

  They’ve been getting him up twice a day since then, and he’s actually staying in the recliner more than he is the bed now, which of course he much prefers. He was able to make it there on his own for the first time yesterday morning. He took his time and used a crutch, but he was so proud of himself. I was proud for him. If it wasn’t for his broken shoulder blade, and recovering from the first surgery, I think he would’ve been outta here a week ago.

  ‘‘‘

  The shrill ringing of my phone wakes me from my stupor. I guess I was more tired than I thought, because now that my eyes are open I can see that it’s well past dawn outside. My a
larm was set for six, I can’t believe I slept through it. I fumble for the phone for several seconds before I manage to find it.

  “Hello,” I croak, trying to clear my throat.

  “Ellie? Are you okay? I thought you’d be back by now,” Nik asks, worriedly.

  “Yeah, I’m okay, I overslept. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you’re all right, and that you got some rest.”

  “I’m hoping you did, too?” I ask more than tell him, climbing out of bed praying there’s still some coffee here.

  “I did,” he says, his voice carrying a dejected tone.

  I didn’t like sleeping away from him either. That is not good, not good at all.

  “Hey, I have some good news.”

  “Really? I’d love to hear it.”

  We need some good news.

  “I actually used the can for first time in two weeks! I didn’t have to shit in a bedpan!” he nearly hollers at me.

  I burst out laughing, and drop my coffee cup, almost breaking it. “I’m so happy for you, I’m sure you feel much better now.” He’s said he couldn’t go all week, but I think it was more wouldn’t, than couldn’t. I don’t blame him though.

  Who wants to poop in a bedpan?

  “It hurt like a bitch, but yeah, I do. Uh, getting to the can hurt, not the other part by the way,” he chuckles.

  Does he really have to be funny, too?

  “Thanks for clearing that up for me, I would have wondered forever,” I laugh.

  He laughs with me for a minute then starts groaning. “Ugh, no laughing, my head will explode.”

  “Oooh, sorry. Migraine again?” He’s been having them on and off all week. Dr. Mason says unfortunately, they’ll stick around for a while.

  “Yeah. Oh, and Jake thought I did such a good job moving around on my own that he was going to talk to Dr. Mason and Dr. T. about letting me go home early.”

  Fuck me.

  “Oh...wow. That’s…that’s awesome,” I managed to get out somewhat happily, despite my heart being lodged in my throat.

  I’m not ready. They told us it would be another week. I need more time.

  “I know! We get to go home, I can’t wait!”

  He’s beyond thrilled like he should be, but I’m very quickly succumbing to my anxiety.

  He said WE could go home. Him and me. Living in a home together. Just the two of us.

  I’m skipping right over anxiety, and plunging into overwhelming panic. I hurry to get off the phone with him before he figures it out. “That’s great, hon, let me go so I can get ready to come up there,” I pant, praying he thinks it’s my excitement.

  “Uh, yeah, okay. Ellie, are you all right?”

  “Fine, I’ll see ya soon,” I squeak, managing to end the call before the phone clatters to the floor, and I fall to my hands and knees. My heart is trying to tear through my ribs, my skin already covered in a cold sweat. No matter how much air I suck in I still can’t breathe, the air’s just not getting in. The walls begin to close in around me as my stomach heaves with nausea. My ears are ringing, my head’s spinning, and my vision is turning black around all the bright flashing lights.

  I’m gonna die right here on this kitchen floor.

  No. No, I won’t. Not like this.

  Crawling most of the way, and stumbling the rest, I make it to the bathroom and into the shower, clothes and all. I turn the knob only a half turn with trembling hands. The cold water hits me like ice picks, making me gasp for a new reason. I welcome it this time, stripping off my t-shirt and panties. The water’s constant thrashing against my chilled body blurs my burning eyes and forces out the sobs that have to come. And the ache, that horrible, never-ceasing ache. It’s inside my soul, throbbing deep in my bones. There’s no stopping it, so I let it flow. Sometimes the only way out of this hell is straight through.

  ~

  I make it to the hospital almost an hour later, but I’m still a mess. I probably shouldn’t have had those two big cups of coffee on an empty stomach. I’m shaking like a leaf, but it was the only way I was gonna make it here. I run in the cafeteria, and grab some peanut butter crackers and a water to hopefully dilute all the caffeine.

  I’m washing down the last cracker when I make it to Nik’s room. With all my chewing and swallowing I didn’t hear the voices before rushing inside. I stop short and plaster on my crazy Ellie smile when I see both Dr. T. and Dr. Mason sitting on Nik’s bed. He’s in the recliner.

  The ever-polite Dr. T. nods deeply towards me. “Miss Cochran. So nice to see you.”

  Dr. Mason smiles warmly. “Hello, Ellie.”

  I keep smiling like the crazy person I am, and nod vigorously at them. “Good morning. I’m sorry I interrupted, please continue.” I scurry over to stand by Nik, smiling down at him for a second then try to focus on his doctors. I’m gonna ignore the concerned look Nik shot me. I’m still so frazzled I just stand there worrying the hem of my T-shirt hoping I can stay calm. Instead, I zone out. If the doctors are speaking I can’t understand them. I only hear mumbling, which makes sense to me because they’re nothing but dark blurs to my eyes.

  If they’re hard to see, they should be hard to hear, right?

  I feel a big warm hand gently take hold of one of mine and tug at it. When my eyes focus I see a worried pair of beautiful blue ones looking at me.

  “There you are. You left me for a bit,” Nik says softly.

  Something tells me he’s not talking about last night. I look around the room, and see that we’re alone and I immediately know what I did.

  God, why am I so screwed up?

  I pull my hand from his, and cover my face as I begin to break down. He gently grabs my arm, and pulls my hand away from my face.

  Damn him, and his long ass arms.

  “Ellie, look at me. It’s okay,” he whispers.

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not,” I choke, sounding like a distraught toddler.

  He releases me, and slowly lowers the footrest of his chair. Once he has his feet on the floor he reaches back up for my hand, and attempts to pull me around to his left side.

  “Nik? What are you—”

  “I want to hold you. Sit down,” he tells me, pulling me towards him.

  “I can’t. I’ll hurt you,” I sputter, and try to get away from him.

  I want out of here. I can’t stand him seeing me like this.

  His grip tightens, but not painfully, and he turns those killer eyes on me. “Please don’t run from me, Ellie. I swear if you leave I will follow you. Are you gonna make me hobble after you knowing how painful it’ll be for me?” he asks, with a pleading look.

  Bastard. That was a low blow, and he knows it.

  “Nik! That’s not fair!”

  His look goes from pleading to guilty. “I know, but I’m at a disadvantage here. I had no choice.” We have a stare off for several long seconds. He must see the moment I crack, because he pulls me closer after I cave to the puppy dog eyes he’s been giving me.

  Very carefully we work together to get me in his lap. I sit sideways, tucking my body into his right side and keep my legs to his left, as far away from his broken leg as possible. I’m not really surprised at how quickly I relax against him. I’ve missed being this close to him since our nap last week. Like it did then, it scares me how perfectly we seem to fit together.

  I can’t let myself get used to this.

  He slips his hand into my hair, softly caressing the back of my neck with his fingers while pressing his lips to my forehead, then lays his cheek against the top of my head. He doesn’t say anything, he just holds me until I calm down.

  Why does he have to be gorgeous as all hell, and sweet, too?

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper after taking a few deep breaths, trying to ignore how good he smells.

  Who smells that good after laying in a hospital bed for two weeks? God, I’m in so much trouble.

  He gives me another kiss on the forehead. “Don’t apologize for something
you can’t control. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’m sure I scared y’all though.”

  “I was more concerned than scared. Does that happen often?”

  I take a deep breath, and slowly let it out. “Not as often as my attacks. My therapist calls it depersonalization. She says my mind needs a break sometimes, so I sort of disappear every once in a while. How long was I gone?”

  “Maybe five or six minutes. I’m not sure when it actually started. You had an attack before, when we were talking on the phone, didn’t you?” He sounds so worried and hesitant.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m such a freak.”

  He suddenly, but gently, grabs my chin and lifts my head up. His brows are knitted heavily over his flaming blue eyes. My heart skitters against my ribs.

  “Do not ever say that again. You are not a freak,” he says in no uncertain terms.

  I stare back at him in shock for a few seconds not knowing how to feel. The heat in his eyes and voice are tying me in knots. I don’t know whether to be angry, turned on, or relieved he doesn’t think I’m a freak.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  His dark scowl is still in place as he shakes his head. “No. No more apologies either.” He still sounds angry, but his thumb rubbing over my cheek kind of ruins it for him.

  I know there’s no need to be afraid of him anyway. I’m pretty sure I’m safe in his arms. Not because he’s hurt and couldn’t chase me if I ran, but because he would never hurt me in the first place. That’s not who he is. I pull my chin away from his grasp, and bury my face in his warm neck, holding him as tightly as I can without hurting him. Of course, my floodgates have already opened, and I begin to cry in earnest. His response is immediate.

  “No, Ellie. No, no, no, please don’t cry. Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please no more tears. Please? I didn’t mean to make it worse,” he begs. It’s not his fault, but his words don’t slow my tears down at all. After a minute or two of my wailing, I hear him let out a deep sigh. “God, I’m an idiot.”

  I shake my head. “No…you’re…not,” I say between sharp hitches of air.