He’s laughing at me, I can see it in his eyes. “They who?”
“You’re in the hospital, Tiny. The Docs decide what you can and can’t do honey, not me.”
I turn my head as much as I can. Pastel pink walls, generic wood closet, extra-wide bathroom door. Not again.
“Why am I here again? I don’t want to be here, Jace. I can’t afford to be here. Where’s Alex? I want to go back to the house. I want out of here right now, Jace.” I sound hysterical even to myself.
He takes my hand in his. I consider snatching it back, but it’s kind of nice. It’s been a long time since anyone held my hand. “You can’t go home right now, Bay. You’re not getting better and you passed out on us. You need more tests.” I know he’s concerned, and it pisses me off.
“Stop acting like you care,” I snap, jerking my hand away.
“Sweetheart, I haven’t played pretend since third grade. I do care, however much that annoys you.”
“Don’t call me ‘Sweetheart’. I’m not anyone’s sweetheart.” I can’t stop snapping at him. I want to, but I can’t.
His eyes darken and he studies my face for longer than I’m comfortable with. “I apologize. It’s a habit for me to call women I care about ‘Sweetheart’, I’ll try to stop.” His apology annoys me even more.
“Thank you. Now could you please find me the doctor so I can get out of here?” I plead.
“No, I can’t. The Doc was in here right before you woke up. He said you need to stay overnight for observation and more tests. They’re not letting you leave tonight.”
“Well they can’t force me to stay either. Find me a nurse so I can sign myself out.” I’m borderline yelling. I stare him down, waiting for him to yell back.
“Nope. I’m not going to do that either. You need to be here, even if you don’t realize it.”
He sounds so calm. It’s infuriating. I feel like my heart is going to explode and he’s acting like we’re discussing the weather.
“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me where I need to be? I know you’ve done a lot for me, your family has, and I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m a grown woman and you are not my keeper. You do not get to tell me where I need to be.” I stop to catch my breath and he smiles wickedly. Even pissed off at him, warmth curls in my belly. Why does he have to be so hot?
“You finished?”
“Am I finished? No, I’m not finished. This is my life, my problem, why can’t everyone just stop telling me what they think I need to do? I decide. Me! No one else.” A nurse steps up to the door and he waves her away. She’s gone without even coming all the way in.
“Are you kidding me?” I explode. “I just asked for a nurse and when one comes in you send her away? What the hell is wrong with you? Go get her back. I want to go home.”
I don’t know when I started crying, but I realize I am. He just stares at me, unflinching while I sob and try to catch my breath.
Then he’s wrapped around me, my face buried in his chest, his hand stroking the back of my head. I want to shove him away, but I can’t stop crying. His arms are so strong, so solid and I feel like my whole world is crashing into a million pieces. I can’t do anything but hold on as I shatter.
It feels like hours have gone by when I finally have the strength to pull away from him. I can’t believe I just did that, and I can’t believe he let me. He never said a single word, he just sat there, holding me tight and letting me cry. Who does that?
He hands me a few tissues and I mutter a mostly unintelligible ‘thank you’. He stands up and squeezes my ankle through the hospital blanket, “I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he’s gone. I blow my nose, which just makes my head hurt more, but at least I can breathe for a minute.
The nurse comes in and checks my vitals. She asks how my pain is and I lie and tell her it’s a three, when it’s probably much closer to an eight, but I really do just want to get out of here.
She smiles and tells me she’ll be back shortly with pain meds for me. I guess I wasn’t very convincing. I don’t ask her to let me sign myself out. I know Jace is right, no matter how much I hate it.
I’m making my way back to the bed from the bathroom when Jace comes back. He’s carrying a bag that smells like french fries and it’s difficult for me not to stare at them. They are the one thing that I consistently have an appetite for, but sadly one cannot exist on french fries alone. I do my best to ignore the smell coming from his direction and settle myself back in the bed. I try to get the blanket over me but it’s too hard with the IV and so I lean back and close my eyes, willing myself to sleep.
“So…. are you finished?” he asks quietly.
“Seriously?” I laugh with no humor, “yes, I’m finished, Jace. I’m done fighting. Bring on the tests.”
The silence stretches to the point that I have to open my eyes to make sure he’s still there. Of course, he is, blue eyes steady on mine.
“I’m glad you’re willing to stay now, but I’m sorry it’s against your will. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I hope you know that.” He sounds sad and it makes me feel guilty.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you. You don’t deserve it, and I truly do appreciate everything you all have done for me, even if it doesn’t seem like it.” I glance up to be sure he’s still listening, and his eyes meet mine. I have to look away before I can continue. “It’s just that I don’t deserve any of this, Jace. You know what I mean? I don’t deserve any of it.”
Tears threaten to fall again, so I ball my fists in the blanket and squeeze my eyes shut tight again.
“Of course you don’t deserve any of this, Bay. No one deserves to be this sick, certainly not at twenty-two years old, but really, not ever. We’ll get through it.” He’s so kind, but so misguided.
I open my eyes and he’s right there again. I never heard him move, never felt him sit on the side of the bed, but there he is. I swallow hard.
“You couldn’t be more wrong, Jace. I absolutely do deserve to be this sick. I did this to myself and there’s no one else to blame,” his expression changes from one of kind concern to one of horror and shock, and I put my hand up to stop him before he can object. “You can’t disagree. You don’t know what happened. You don’t know what I did. If you did, you wouldn’t care what happened to me at all.”
“No way is that true, Bay. I don’t care what you did, you don’t deserve this. That’s like saying Alex deserved to get the shit beat out of her, or to be kidnapped and left for dead.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s completely different. You don’t know, Jace.”
He grabs my hand and clutches it between both of his, “You got a terrible infection, Tiny. You got sick, and then because you didn’t go to a doctor right away you got sepsis. You almost died, and yes, if you had gone to a doctor earlier it wouldn’t have gone that far, but that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. You made a mistake, that’s all. We all make mistakes, Bay, it doesn’t mean you deserve this.”
“You don’t understand. It is my fault. I caused this and I deserve this.” I wish there was some way I could make him understand, but I can’t say it out loud.
“How can it be your fault, Bay? It doesn’t make sense. You’re not a doctor, how could you know that it wasn’t just a virus?”
He’s still holding my hand, so close he seems to fill the room, and I close my eyes. I just can’t look at him right now.
“So, tell me how you got the infection, Bay. I promise you it doesn’t matter. None of us are going to feel any different about you than we do right now,” He believes what he’s saying, I know that, but he won’t once he knows.
“No. I can’t do that. I can’t talk about it,” I whisper.
I feel his eyes searching my face, but I can’t look at him. He shouldn’t even be here.
“Okay,” he whispers back. “Just answer one question for me?”
“What?”
“Does anyone know what you’re s
o upset about? Does Alex know?” His voice is so soft I strain to hear it. It reminds me of how people talk when they’re trying to get close to an injured animal.
“No. I can’t talk about it,” I sound like I’m begging, and it occurs to me that I am.
CHAPTER 3
The prescriptions the doctors called in for me make me feel like a ninety-year-old. Chance bought one of those pill cases with Monday through Sunday and multiple compartments per day. I’m averaging 15 pills per day, antibiotics, pain pills, reflux medications. Three of them I’m not even clear what they’re for, but I take them anyway.
They were going to add an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication because I feel like I’m drowning in life. It wasn’t on the list Chance picked up for me at the pharmacy, so I guess the doctor changed his mind. Everything seems so much harder than it used to. I don’t feel like I’m depressed though. I just feel so tired.
Alex walks into the kitchen in a turquoise sweater and jeans with holes in the knees. Her long red hair is piled on top of her head in an extra messy bun. She smiles as soon as she sees me. “Pill day already?” she asks.
“Yeah, every day is pill day though. I’m basically living on pills now I think. I definitely eat more pills than food these days,” I laugh, but I know my joke has fallen flat. “It’s funny because it’s true,” I add, trying to save it.
“Right? Well, hopefully they’ll start weaning you off of some of them soon. I know you hate them, and I hate this for you, Bay,” her smile is all compassion and I almost want to tell her everything. Almost.
“Me too. Kinda seems like that’s never going to happen though, doesn’t it? I don’t even remember what normal and healthy feels like anymore.” This time her smile is all pity.
“I know,” she says. She leans her hip against the counter as I gather the many bottles of pills to place them back in the metal popcorn tin I keep them in. I carry the tin into the laundry room and place it in the cabinet above the washer and dryer. There’s no way they will fit in the medicine cabinet and Chance suggested I keep them here. It’s not a place anyone would ever think to look, he said, but I think it’s mainly because he worries that I’ll take them all and kill myself. I’ve noticed that the tin disappears on Sunday night and reappears the next Saturday. I feel guilty that they’re so worried, but it also amuses me because the number of pills I have to put in my container every week would be enough to kill me if that’s what I really wanted to do.
When I get back to the kitchen, they’re all there. Chance, Alex, and Jace. I haven’t seen Jace since I was discharged from the hospital two weeks ago. He’s wearing his usual camouflage sweatshirt, jeans, and work boots, and still looks as effortlessly sexy as he always does. His hair has gotten longer, it looks good on him.
Chance is sitting next to Alex, in his usual outfit of black sweatshirt, jeans, and a baseball cap. His eye color today is a stormy gray, even more noticeable next to Alex’s turquoise sweater. Everyone knows you can tell Chance’s mood by the color of his eyes. The stormy gray means he’s either mad or worried, and from the look on his face it looks like worry is the winner.
“Are we having a party no one told me about?” I ask, trying to keep it light. I can see what’s coming, I just can’t see any way to avoid it.
“We just thought it would be nice to sit down and talk some things out, is all. It’s no big deal,” Alex says, but her voice wavers and I know she’s nervous.
“That okay with you?” asks Chance.
“Well, do I have a choice?” I ask.
The silence stretches and the three of them look at each other, then me, then each other again.
I take a seat across from them, “That’s what I thought.”
Chance clears his throat, and looks at me until I meet his gaze, “How are you feeling today, Bayleigh?”
“Fantastic,” I reply. He looks so sad, I immediately feel terrible.
“Not well, okay? I’m exhausted and miserable. I never realized how much energy is required to walk from one room to another. How much effort it can take just to get out of bed. I know you guys must be getting sick of me moping around all the time, and I am too. I’m trying to feel better. I really am. I don’t know why I can’t.”
“We know that, Bay.” Chance says. “No one is upset, mad, or annoyed with you. I know you think we are, but we aren’t. We are worried, and we want to help you.”
“Great, any ideas?” I ask. It came out snarky, but I meant it sincerely.
Jace sighs, and Alex bites her lip, as Chance says, “Yes, actually. We think the most helpful thing you can do is tell us what happened. Whatever it is that you think we’ll all hate you for.”
My eyes jerk to Jace, “You told them? I should have known you would do that!” I stand up, ready to bail. “I guess I should be impressed. You made it two whole weeks before running your mouth. Good job, Jace.”
I know I’m acting like a child, stomping out of the room, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Jace does it for me, his hand wrapping around my wrist and spinning me back to face him.
“A lot you know, I only kept my mouth shut for about half an hour. As soon as you ate and fell asleep, I called them and told them what you told me. It pisses you off, and I’m okay with that. We’re your family, Tiny, like it or not, and family takes care of family. I don’t know how to help you, so I called in reinforcements.”
“You had no right!” I snap. I’m not even going to think about the word ‘family’. If they knew, they’d throw me out like the garbage I am. I try to jerk my arm out of his grasp, but I fail. “Let go!”
“No,” he stands, towering over me. A literal mountain of muscle in my path. “I called them in, and now I’m calling in what you owe,” he growls.
“What I owe? Every time I say how sorry I am, you all,” I look at all three of them in turn, “every one of you, tell me that I owe you nothing. Don’t worry about it, just get better, you don’t owe us anything. And now, just because I won’t jump right in to all the sordid details of how my life has fallen apart, now I owe you?”
“That’s not what he means, Bay,” Alex yells from behind me.
I turn around to face her. “Really? What does he mean then? He said he’s collecting what I owe.”
“He meant—,” she begins.
“I can speak for myself, Alex,” Jace cuts in. “I mean exactly what I said. We’ve been patient, we’ve given you space, we’ve tried not to upset you. The doctors have said, repeatedly, that you need to talk to someone. They have tried, over and over, to set you up with a therapist, but you won’t go. You say you can’t afford it. Fine. We offered to pay, you don’t want to owe us. We offered you a job, you still feel like you’re taking advantage. Fine. But you have to talk, Tiny. It’s eating you alive. It’s not the sepsis, it’s this. Can’t you see that?” I dimly realize he sounds desperate, which is confusing.
“Are you a doctor now? They said the depression, the pain, the insomnia, everything that’s wrong with me are symptoms of chronic sepsis, Jace. I don’t know why my body won’t heal, but it has nothing to do with going over it all again.” I try to pull my arm away from him again, but he still won’t let go, so I sit on the stool closest to me. I’m dizzy again, but I’ll die before I let them see that.
He moves his hand down to mine and laces our fingers together, resting his other hand on top like he did at the hospital as he sits across from me. His voice is soft this time, and again I feel like an injured animal he’s trying to soothe.
“Your body is healing, Bay. Your immune system has responded and, physically, you are getting better. All of your tests show significant improvement.”
“That can’t be true! I told them they’re wrong! If I was getting better I would feel better and I don’t feel any better! You’re wrong!”
He shakes his head, the expression on his face the saddest I’ve ever seen it, “No, we’re not wrong, Tiny. They think your continuing symptoms are psychosomatic.”
The wor
d just hangs there in the air. His eyes pleading with me, Chance and Alex staring at the counter, refusing to make eye contact.
“You think I’m crazy? The doctors think I’m crazy?” I try to shove away, but he still won’t let go.
“No one thinks you’re crazy, Bay,” Alex and Chance reply in unison.
Jace squeezes my hand and I meet his gaze. I feel like I swallowed a baseball, the knot in my throat impossible to ignore. “You’re not crazy, Sweeth- Tiny. You’re not. You’ve just locked something away, that shouldn’t be locked away, and it’s like poison. All you have to do is talk about it. With a therapist, with us, with just Alex… however you want to do it is fine, but you have to talk about it before it kills you.”
“I can’t afford—,” I begin, only to be cut off by Jace.
“I’ll pay for it. I’ll take you right now if you want to go.” He says.
“Then I’ll owe you too. I can’t owe another person. There’s not enough left of me to go around, don’t you understand?” Realization dawns and my breath catches.
“Wait a minute. You said I owe you. What do I owe you for? Chance has been paying for everything. Why do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it, I never should have said that and I’m sorry. Let’s just worry about finding you someone to talk to, okay?”
His eyes never waver. Such pretty eyes. A part of me wants to push it, wants to know right now what he’s talking about, but another part of me sees that it’s not fair. I can’t keep demanding answers when I’m unwilling to give any of my own. I’m so tired.
“Can I just think about it? I really just want to go to lay down,” I put my hand up to stop them as all three of them take a breath to protest. “I do hear you. I promise that I will think about everything you said and decide who I can make myself talk to. I’m not ignoring you, I’m not blowing you off. I am exhausted though, so I’d really like to take my meds and go lay down for a little while. Please.”
Jace releases my hand, and they all nod. I take my handful of pills, washing them down with water Alex gets for me. I try to smile encouragingly at them all before slowly making my way to the stairs.
Faith (Stregth Series Book 2) Page 2
