14
Noah
It took a solid week before I was able to stay awake long enough to begin to make sense of what had happened to me over the past month. At first, I tended to forget certain details each time I emerged from sleep, and I had to be reminded again and again that I was in the hospital, that I’d been unconscious, that I was recovering.
Dr. Lawrence ran a gamut of tests to make certain that I wasn’t suffering from a neurological issue that they’d somehow missed, but everything came back negative. The neuro doc’s opinion was that I was fine, that I was just taking a little longer to come back to my full mental strength. Since I showed marked improvement every day, that seemed to be the most logical explanation.
My frustration levels didn’t help me, either. My mother hovered constantly, worry etched on her face. When I snapped at her, she began to cry and said she was just trying to help . . . which then made me feel guilty. My mother had been here in Florida at my bedside for a month now. My dad had been making trips back and forth, I learned. My brothers and sisters had come at the beginning, and Mom informed me that she was keeping the whole family in the loop via a group text.
When she mentioned that text, I suddenly remembered that I didn’t have my phone, and that I needed to get in touch with Alison. God, I thought, she must be worried, wondering what the hell had happened to me. Did she think I’d blown her off? Had she tried to call?
“Hey, Mom, did someone named Alison come visit me while I was in the coma?” I tried to keep the question casual; I didn’t want to raise the mom radar.
“Alison?” She frowned. “No, I don’t think so. You had so many people from the team coming to see you, but I don’t think any of them were called Alison.” She began to tick off people on her finger. “Emma and Deacon came as much as they could, and your coach, and the team doctor, and even the team owner. Oh, and of course, Juliet was here just about every single day.”
I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. Since I’d become a little more aware, my mother had been enthusiastically describing Juliet in glowing terms. At first, I’d had trouble remembering who Juliet Connors was. When I did recall who she was, I’d been bewildered by my mom’s description of her devotion. The way she talked, I’d begun to question my own memory: did I have some kind of romantic relationship with the team nutritionist that I’d somehow repressed? I didn’t think so.
But her mention of Emma reminded me that Alison would have known about my condition via our friends. If she’d been worried about me or pissed off that I hadn’t texted or called, Emma would’ve told her everything.
So when I had a moment alone with Emma during her next visit—my mother had gone downstairs for coffee—I tried to bring up the subject.
“You know, I keep thinking of all the people who I said I’d text after the surgery. They must’ve thought I was a real dick for not getting back to them. Either that, or I was dead.”
Emma snorted. “I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about, dude. Between your mother, the team and me, we kept all the important people in the loop.”
“Yeah?” I cleared my throat. “Because I was thinking about Alison the other day. You know, we hung out at your wedding, and we texted back and forth . . .” All of that was true. I was just choosing to omit the sex that came between the texting. And the date we’d gone on. None of that was Emma’s business. “I said I’d let her know how the operation went, and I never did.”
“Oh.” Emma nodded. “Don’t worry about Alison. I told her all about what happened. She called one night when Deacon and I were driving home from seeing you.”
“Huh. Okay, then. Good to know.” I tried to play it off as though I didn’t care, all the while I wondered why Alison hadn’t come to see me. “Does she know I’m awake now?”
Emma frowned at me, and I had a sinking feeling I’d pushed my luck too far. She suspected something.
“She does,” she said slowly. “I texted her the other day.”
“Great. That’s good. Thanks.” I desperately tried to think of a way to change the subject. There wasn’t much I kept from Emma, but I wasn’t eager to share that I’d begun to fall for Alison. The last thing I needed was my well-intentioned friend butting into what was a private matter.
“So Coach is coming to see me this afternoon,” I blurted out. “I think we’re going to talk about the plan for getting me back in shape. I’m guessing they’re going to say I’m out for this season, considering all of the work I have ahead of me in PT, but I can come back even stronger next year. I’m sure of it.”
Emma nodded, but I didn’t miss the brief flash of pain in her eyes, and she jumped to her feet abruptly. “I’m sorry, Noah. I need to get back. Everything has been so crazy at the hospital, and Deacon and I are juggling it all. I’ve been spending a lot of time over here, and Deacon’s been handling his work and mine, too.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I reached out for her hand. “Thank you, Emma. Mom said you’ve been awesome.”
This time, her smile was more relaxed. “Your mother and I definitely get along better now than we did when she was afraid I was going to be her daughter-in-law, but she’s still a little territorial when it comes to me.” She paused. “Oh, and what’s the deal with that Juliet chick? She was here almost every time I came to sit with you. Your mom acted like she was your girlfriend. As a matter of fact, she strongly hinted that things were very serious between you two, which may have just been her way of warning me off—like I’m going to leave my new husband to chase after you. No offense, sweetie.”
“None taken. And Juliet isnotmy girlfriend,” I emphasized. “I’m not sure where Mom got this notion, but I’m doing my best to correct it. I’ll tell you about Juliet another time. She’s a whole separate conversation. But there’s nothing at all going on between us. Nothing of a romantic variety, I mean.”
“Good.” Emma wrinkled her nose. “She’s not your type, bud. I mean, she seemed nice enough, but it doesn’t feel like there’s a lot of substance there.”
I shrugged. “Agreed.”
After Emma had kissed my cheek and left, I lay still for a long time, letting everything she’d said roll around in my head. So Alison knew what had happened after my surgery. It was possible that she hadn’t felt comfortable coming to see me, considering that no one besides the two of us had any clue that we were more than casual friends. But then a troubling possibility occurred to me: what if Alisonhadcome to see me and had run into Juliet—or worse, Juliet and my mom? If Emma had gotten the wrong impression, the same thing could have happened with Alison. What conclusions might she have drawn? Would she have trusted that it was just a mix-up, or would she have decided that I’d been lying to her?
When my mother returned a few minutes later, I decided I’d played the waiting game long enough. As she fussed around the room, rearranging flowers and showing me the get-well cards I’d received, I spoke up.
“Hey, Mom—where’s my phone? I bet I have a ton of messages to return. I think I’m feeling well enough to tackle that now.”
Her face puckered. “Oh, honey, it’s back in my hotel room. I took all of your personal items there after Dad and I arrived. I didn’t want anything getting lost as they moved you from room to room.”
