by Meg Collett
“That’s disgusting,” Kyra said, balling her fists at her sides. “How could they bring cameras into a hospital?”
“How did they get down here so fast?” Hale asked.
“I have no idea. Don’t they live in Los Angeles?” She watched Stevie’s parents walk around the corner of the hall. If she wanted to see Stevie, now was her time. “Come on, let’s go.”
She slipped down the hall to Stevie’s room and knocked softly on the door before she went in. The room was dark, with only a small light on so that Ethan could read Stevie’ vitals. He nodded when they walked up.
“Oh, Stevie,” Kyra said, reaching for her best friend’s hand.
“That bad, huh?” Stevie asked. She tried to grin, but the motion pulled at the stitches lining the side of her mouth. Another gash stretched vertically down her left eyebrow. Scratches were scattered across her pasty skin where the glass had broken around her.
“No, it’s not bad at all.” She squeezed Stevie’s hand as she settled softly down on the bed beside her.
“You’re an awful liar.” Stevie snorted, but it only dislodged the oxygen tubes under her nostrils. Before she could reach up and readjust it, Hale stepped forward and helped her, handling the delicate tubes like a pro. “Thanks, Hale.”
“No problem.”
Stevie looked so small in the hospital bed. Her red hair was a tangled mess behind her, and her gown was crooked. Smudged makeup amplified the bruises on her face. Even with her tan, she still looked too pale.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Kyra whispered, her throat thick.
“I’m gonna have to agree with you on that one.” Stevie shifted in bed, grimacing when the movement caused her pain.
“What happened? Why didn’t you get a cab?”
Stevie’s eyes fell to the thin, scratchy sheet covering her legs. “I thought I had it under control. I feel like a piece of shit. What if I had hit someone? How would I have dealt with that?”
“You got really lucky,” Hale said from over Kyra’s shoulder. She shot him a look when Stevie groaned.
“But it didn’t happen,” Kyra said quickly before her friend could start crying. “So let’s focus on that.”
“Always so optimistic,” Stevie mumbled.
“We make a good pair since you’re so doom-and-gloom.” Kyra was the only one who tried to laugh at her joke.
She took a deep breath, her nerves making her hands clammy. She needed to talk to Stevie about her drinking, but Kyra felt like she’d failed her friend by not doing it sooner. And she felt like a fraud.
“Stevie, I think you need to go to rehab. You need help before you hurt yourself worse.”
Stevie’s eyes flickered away to look out the window where night had fallen. A drizzle of rain slicked down the glass. “Have you been talking to my parents?” she asked with a halfhearted laugh. “They said the same thing.”
“They want to make sure you’re healthy and safe,” Kyra said, regretting her earlier judgments; Stevie’s parents couldn’t be so awful if they had wanted what was best for their daughter.
As if Stevie read her thoughts, she said, “Oh, please. They want to make a buck. They told me I had to go to a rehab they picked and bring the cameras for a reality show spinoff about my recovery and our reconciliation. The network even sent them down here on a jet to arrange it all.”
Kyra’s regrets vanished just as quickly as they’d appeared, and she bristled. “That’s horrible and awful. And, like, really, really…just…bullshit.”
“Yeah, well they said they would stop sending me money and all that,” Stevie mumbled. Her fingers pulled at the thin bed sheets. “Not that they sent me much anyway, but I don’t make that much from my photography. They’re completely broke though. I think the network was going to pay for my rehab if I agreed to the show.”
“Screw that,” Kyra growled. Stevie looked up at her in surprise. “I’ll pay for it. We’ll pay for it. I don’t give a crap who pays for it as long as it’s not them. But don’t let them make you do a show because you’re worried about money. You can live with me.”
“Really?” Stevie’s voice trembled slightly. It was a tone Kyra had never heard before. It was weak, like a little girl on the verge of tears. And even now, Stevie’s big green eyes brimmed with them. Something in her expression told Kyra that Stevie’s life had been full of fake friends and bad relationships. She’d probably never been offered something out of pure love.
And it infuriated Kyra. She didn’t know much about parents. Actually, she didn’t know anything besides the kind of stilted love her aunt and uncle had shown her—not like that wasn’t good enough, but it wasn’t a mother or father’s love. But Stevie’s parents were alive, and she should’ve had better.
“Yes,” Kyra said, her voice strong. “Whatever it takes. We can pick a place together and work out the cost. Then you can live with me if they take your house.” She leaned forward, gripping Stevie’s hand and feeling a determination to help her friend that she’d never felt for her health. “But fuck them.”
“Fuck who?”
“And who are you?”
Kyra looked over her shoulder as she pushed to her feet. Stevie’s parents walked in the door and flipped on the lights, making Stevie cringe. Without thinking, Kyra shielded Stevie behind her as she fully turned to the couple in the room.
“I’m Kyra, Stevie’s best friend. And this is Hale.” She gritted her teeth, seconds away from going off on someone.
Mrs. Andrews scoffed. “Only family is allowed in here. So I think you should leave. Now.”
“I want them to stay,” Stevie said weakly from behind Kyra.
“Stephanie, you need your parents right now.” The woman looked back at Kyra and Hale. “If you two don’t leave now, you will be forcibly removed.” As if she could sense drama brewing, she leaned back out the door and motioned in the cameramen. When Kyra realized Stevie’s mom wanted to catch all this on film, she lost it.
“Are you fucking serious?” she hissed. Her words were borderline yelling. “Get those fucking things out of here!”
“Excuse me?!” Mrs. Andrews gasped, but she motioned for the crew to start recording.
“I’ll have you watch your language around my daughter and wife,” Stevie’s dad said, pointing his finger at Kyra.
“Oh, really?” she snapped. “I think you two are disgusting people. How could you bring those things in here when your daughter is in the hospital? So, no, I won’t watch my language. And actually, I’ll add that you’re both fucking pieces of shits that don’t even deserve to be crapped out of a dog’s ass!”
Mrs. Andrews gasped. “What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me,” Kyra growled.
“Security!” Mr. Andrews yelled out the door.
“Turn those off right now,” Hale said, stepping around Kyra and blocking her. She peered around his massive shoulders and saw the closest cameraman had raised his camera and started recording.
The man didn’t lower the camera or turn it off. Hale advanced, and Stevie’s mom quickly backed out the room. Hale wrenched the camera out of the crew guy’s hands. With a grunt, he brought the thing down on his knee, shattering it with a symphony of cracks and splinters.
“You’ll pay for that!” the man stuttered.
“Perfect,” Hale said, tossing the camera calmly aside. “Send me the fucking bill.”
Kyra saw the guards rushing down the hall. She quickly turned to Stevie and kissed her cheek. “Sorry, Stevie. I’ll text you.”
“Don’t apologize. This made my day so much better.”
The rent-a-cops came in the room, their eyes darting between the broken camera and Hale’s formidable size. They advanced toward them until Hale stopped them with a seething look. “Touch her, and I’ll break you like that camera right there. We can walk out just fine.”
He took Kyra’s arm and guided her through the crowd of bodies and out the door. The cops followed them closely. As they l
eft, Ethan smiled and gave them the thumbs-up sign.
“I’ll have you arrested for destruction of property!” Stevie’s dad called down the hall.
“Sounds like fun!” Hale hollered back.
The security guys walked them all the way out of the hospital and to Hale’s truck. He opened Kyra’s door for her before he went around to his side. The tires spun as he rocketed out of the parking lot.
“I can’t believe we just got kicked out of a hospital,” Kyra said, groaning. She was crashing back down from her anger high, and now she just felt like crap.
“They deserved it.”
“I just feel bad that we left Stevie alone with them.”
“She can handle it.” He turned out onto the main road that led back to Kyra’s house.
“I know.”
He glanced at her before he reached over and took her hand. With a squeeze he said, “Have I mentioned that it turns me on when you curse?”
She groaned again. “Oh, gosh. I think I blacked out. I don’t even remember what I said.”
He laughed, the sound easing her nerves enough that she smiled over at him. “I think it was something about how her parents weren’t even good enough to be dog shit.”
“Oh, that’s bad,” she said, laughing. “I’m embarrassed for myself.”
“Nah. You just need some work on picking better metaphors. I give it an A for effort though.”
“I meant I’m embarrassed that I said that!” she said, truly laughing now. “Not that it was bad swearing!”
“Fuck that.”
nineteen
Kyra didn’t sleep after Hale dropped her off. Part of her wished he would’ve stayed and held her through the night, but that was silly. She didn’t need him to comfort her—or that’s what she told herself as she tossed and turned all night. All she could see was Stevie’s cut face and her big, scared eyes staring up at Kyra from the hospital bed.
Finally, at four in the morning, she gave up on sleep. It was too early to go to the hospital, so she did a brutal circuit training workout on the beach. When she came back inside, she was dripping in sweat and sand. Her hands and feet were raw, and tendrils of her hair were plastered to the side of her neck. She took the stairs slowly, as her muscles wavered and buckled beneath her.
By the time she’d showered and drank her protein shake, it was almost a decent hour to go to the hospital. On her way, she picked up some blueberry scones from Maggie’s Bakery to take to Stevie. The bag was warm and oozing delicious smells as Kyra walked to the double sliding doors at the hospital’s entrance.
When she walked into a gust of cold air, a lady sitting at the front desk looked up and frowned instantly. Kyra’s stomach twisted. “Ma’am,” the lady called before Kyra could duck past.
“Yes?” Kyra asked, redirecting herself to the front desk. Tall green plants along with pleasing neutral-colored paint tried to cheer up the place, but the decorations couldn’t do anything about the typical hospital smell that permeated the place, no matter how many plants littered the entrance.
“Please state your name,” the lady said, her eyes on a clipboard in front of her.
“I’m just here to see my friend.” Kyra held up the bag of scones, plastering a sugary-sweet smile on her face. “Would you like a scone?”
“Ma’am, your name please.”
“Kyra Aberdeen,” she said with a sigh.
“Ms. Aberdeen, you’ve been temporarily banned from the hospital,” the lady said with a sniff. Her hair was teased and hair sprayed within an inch of its life. She wore a shirt buttoned up all the way to her throat and had a neat cardigan draped over her shoulder. She looked like Kyra’s fifth-grade teacher, which meant Kyra had a better chance of getting past a fire-breathing dragon than this woman.
“Okay,” she said with a small smile, feeling defeated. “I’m sorry for the hassle. Have a good day.”
The lady harrumphed when Kyra’s back was turned. The doors whooshed open, and the morning sun tickled her skin. The parking lot was empty besides her Jeep and one more car pulling in. It was a beat up Honda that sputtered and jerked when it turned off. She wasn’t surprised when Dr. Ethan Faraday stepped out wearing rumpled clothes and crooked sunglasses.
She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but when Ethan recognized her and waved, she stopped. “Hey, Dr. Faraday,” she said, adjusting her grip on the bag of scones.
“Bleh. That name sounds like a vicious wedgie. Call me Ethan.” He shoveled his hair out of his face. “Did you come to hang with Stevie?”
Kyra smiled at the doctor, but even she could tell it was a bad attempt. “Apparently I’m banned from the hospital.”
“I’m not surprised. The Andrews put up quite a stink when you two left yesterday. They were getting so annoying that I thought I was going to have to sedate myself.”
“That bad, huh?” Kyra asked, feeling a real smile tugging at her lips.
“Pretty killer.” Ethan shrugged, dragging out the word for a few extra syllables and making Kyra giggle. “I can’t let you into the hospital, but she rested through the night. She just needs to stay until Saturday afternoon, and then she can go home.”
“That long?” Kyra didn’t bother keeping the alarm from her voice.
“Just precautions. Her rib injuries were pretty bad, and it’s typical to keep a patient that long with a brutal knock to the head.” Ethan patted her arm awkwardly for a second, like he was trying to comfort her. “Anyway, I better scoot.”
“Thanks for the information, Ethan.” Kyra remembered the bag in her hand. “Can you take these to Stevie? There’s plenty in there for you too.”
Ethan grinned and took the scones she offered. “Oh, yeah, man. Love these things. Cool!”
“You’re welcome,” Kyra said and waved.
Driving back to her house, she couldn’t stop yawning. Her lack of sleep the night before was catching up to her, so she stopped at a gas station and filled up the Jeep and bought some coffee. By the time she got back to her house, the hammering was in full swing since Hale had called the crew to work.
Kitchen cabinets were being reinstalled since all the walls were up and the rooms were painted in the sea-blue palette Kyra had picked out. The cabinets were Hale’s custom design, but a local cabinetmaker had built them. Even though he could make them himself, he’d insisted on using local shops for everything he could.
By the end of the day, she would have her kitchen almost ready. Her new appliances would be plugged in, and she could finally start using a real refrigerator and stove, which meant she could try out a vegan cookie recipe she’d been waiting to try.
Hale wasn’t in the front room when she entered, but she waved to Chevy and the other guys and went upstairs. Her bedroom was bright and cheerful. The gauzy curtains fluttered in the ocean breeze. A clammy sheen of salt seemed to coat every surface. Kyra plugged in her phone and texted Stevie.
Kyra: Hope you’re feeling better. Sorry I can’t be there :(
Later in the day, with upbeat music filling Kyra’s room, she realized something. Her fingers stilled against the keyboard where she’d been editing. Hale had told her she should use her videos to be real and honest, and she had an opportunity now to do something like that.
Turning on her equipment, she took her spot on the floor. The image came up on the screen, and she saw herself. Her hair was tossed up in a messy bun, and her face was makeup free. It wasn’t her best look, but Kyra didn’t want to take the time to get ready and possibly second-guess her decision. She pushed the record button and took a deep breath.
“Hey, everyone,” she said. “Today’s video is going to be a little different, because I want to talk about something serious.” Kyra offered the camera a slight smile. “Everyone needs help sometimes. And we need to be able to ask for help, or recognize when a friend or family member needs it.”
For once, she didn’t stop and retake certain parts of her video. She didn’t stop talking, because she was afraid she’d lose her
nerve. She went straight through, in one continuous take, and when she was done, she stopped the video and saved it. She wasn’t going to edit it or add music like she did to her other ones. She wasn’t going to make it cute or funny. Instead, she uploaded it straight to Youtube.
Something in the act of making that video had eased the tension stretching across her chest. Kyra took a full breath for the first time all day. Hale had been right; it felt good to be honest.
Before her eyes even landed on the ocean, she wanted to go surfing. But then she saw her back garden and blew a piece of hair out of her face. She needed to get the weeds pulled and the bushes hacked down to size before the ladies of the neighborhood came by again. Kyra made a face.
She put on old work clothes and sunscreen. On her way out her bedroom door, she pulled on a baseball cap, tucking her hair through the back. Downstairs, everyone was still in the kitchen, so she went outside unnoticed.
She started in the front since it was the worst and more visible to everyone passing on the street. Once she set about the task, it didn’t take her as long as she thought, since she’d already worked on it once before. She dumped countless loads of weeds in the big dumpster in her driveway, but when she was done, there was actually a clear path to her front porch. The garden almost looked bare without all the overgrowth. Kyra stood on the porch to admire her work as she wiped the sweat from her eyes.
From across the street, Mrs. Harrison came out of her house and crossed the road. It was clear she’d seen Kyra in her garden and wanted to talk, but Kyra seriously considered turning around and hiding inside her house. Instead, she sighed and stood her ground.
“Hello, Mrs. Harrison,” she called, not bothering to sound welcoming. She knew what the old lady wanted.
