Once the medic is done closing up the cut, I reach out to her, slowly pulling her up and keeping her body close to mine for support. She seems steady enough, but I don’t want to risk anything after thatfall.
“Let’s go home,” I breathe as I check she’s still got the icepack on the right spot.
She doesn’t say anything, but gives a weak nod.
Our PA’s scramble to grab our clothes from our trailers, giving us a chance to quickly get out of costume before leaving Starlight property. Clover’s still got her hair and makeup on, but at least now she’s in comfortable clothes and we can leave.
“Are you ready?” I ask, offering my hand. Hesitantly, she reaches back and grabs it. Relief surges through me as I grip tightly, like how I wish I could’ve during the stunt. I cling to her hand now, like it somehow makes up for letting her fall.
I’m fuming. Because as much as I could be mad at Starlight Studios for the stunt decision, or Clover for not making the jump today, the person I’m most angry with is myself.I knew. I knew something was off with her today. Hell, I even thought about calling off the stunt myself, and what did I do? Nothing. I did jack shit, and Clover ended up getting hurt. I should’ve caught her, should’ve stopped the stunt, should’ve done anything to stop what happened. Instead, I let it, and I hate myself for it.
When I get into the car, I don’t even know what to say to break the silence, so it stretches, feeling overpowering and brittle all at once.
The longer it goes, the less I know what to say. Nothing feels sufficient, so I do something I should probably do more often–shut the fuck up. For everyone’s benefit, the condo is empty when we get there. Clover turns, no doubt to make a beeline for the guest room she’s staying in, when my arm shoots out and I grab her.
“Oh, no you don’t. Kitchen, now,” I grit out, heading to the fridge to grab an ice pack for her head.
Clover drags her feet and follows slowly, eventually plucking the ice pack from my hands and pressing it to her head as she sits at the island counter. Her wince makes my heart drop.
She must see it on my face, because she adds, “It’s really cold.”
“Cut the bullshit, Clover.” I mutter before grabbing a glass of water and nudging it in her direction.
“I don’t–”
“You got hurt today.” I run my hands through my hair as I pace a few steps behind the kitchen island.
“Roman, it’s not that bad, it looked worse than it was.” Her voice is way calmer than it has any right to be.
She sets the ice pack on the table, as if she’s trying to prove that she doesn’t need it.
“That could’ve been so bad, you have no idea what it was like to watch you fall.” My voice is getting louder and I feel the inexplicable urge to kiss her and shake her for how foolish she was today. I’m still so fucking pissed at myself for letting it happen.
Rounding the island, I gently raise the ice pack to the side of her head once more. It makes contact with her for all of about a second before she jerks her head away and hops off the barstool.
“If you’re done playing nurse, I’d like to take a shower.”
“Wait,” I shout after her.
She does no such thing, taking off for the guest room she’s staying in, shutting the door and locking it.
Is she crazy? What if she passes out in the shower or something?
For the entirety of her seventeen-minute shower, I proceed to lose my mind and pace outside her door like the fool that I am. When the sound of the water stops, I give her a minute before I knock.
She doesn’t answer.
My knocks turn into bangs with my fist. “Clover. Open the door.”
I wouldn’t say I’m yelling, but my voice definitely fills the hallway, and it comes out as a pure command. I’m still annoyed that she closed the door, just another example of her being reckless. What if she slipped and fell? Another example of my letting it happen and not stepping in where I should have. I bang once more, ready to call out again.
“Calm down you Neanderthal,” comes her wobbly-sounding reply from inside. “I need another minute.”
When she finally opens the door, my heart drops.
She’s been crying. Mascara is streaked down her cheeks, and her eyes are red and watery. Fuck.
“Hey,” I say, instinctively grabbing her and pulling her into my arms. “Hey, hey.” Okay, perhaps not the most eloquent today, but it’s all I can think to do in this moment. Rubbing soothing circles on her back, she shakes with the effort to hold in sobs. “What is it?”
