Ken’s gaze darted around the space, not quite looking at me. At least they were dry this time. The first time they let him see me, he dropped to his knees at the foot of my bed and sobbed until I called the nurse in to remove him. I appreciated the fact he was sorry, but his guilt was stifling. His tears had nearly suffocated me. Unlike my other visitors, he couldn’t pretend not to see the scar on my face, the bandages, the fact he’d cost me the life I’d loved.
I wanted him to leave and never come back, but knew that he was just as broken as I was and I didn’t have the heart to shatter what was left of him.
His nose wrinkled. “What’s that smell.” Gaze darting to the bed pan on my roll cart, he stepped forward as his eyes widened. “Here, I’ll take care of that for you.”
This was my life now. A week ago, I was racing through the weeds like I owned the fucking sky, and now I was bedridden and the man who’d almost killed me wanted to clean up my vomit. If he offered to change out my catheter, I’d lose my shit. Probably literally. “No. Leave it. The nurse will be back any minute.”
“I got it. This is the least I can do to help.”
Since I physically couldn’t stop him, I was forced to watch as he carried the bedpan into the bathroom and flushed the contents—trying not to gag the entire time. If I could have gotten up, I would have crawled under my bed and died. I’d never felt so helpless and humiliated in my life. Everything hurt, I wanted to cry, and I wished visiting hours had never been invented.
“All better,” Ken said, returning the now clean bedpan. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
You can leave. Please.
“No. I’m good. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry.” The words frequently flew out of his mouth like they were trapped and needed to be set free. Apologizing was his painkiller, numbing his guilt so he could breathe. “I mean it. You’ll never know how truly sorry I am. My wife said to let you know the church has been praying for you every day. They’re all posting about the incident and people all over the country are prayin’ for you now. We’re trusting God for a full recovery.”
I fought the desire to raise my stub of an arm. Unless I was bit by a radioactive starfish or Mexican axolotl and gained their regeneration ability, there’d be no full recovery. This man—as sorry as he was—had altered my life and my body forever. It was just a stupid accident, but the good Lord couldn’t do shit about my situation.
“You should stop making the drive to see me,” I said. He lived in Amarillo, which was about an hour and a half away. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he wasn’t sleeping, and the idea of him repeating his transgression and wrecking someone else’s life made my stomach churn with anxiety. “There’s nothing more you can do for me.”
Tears flooded his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry—” His gaze dropped to my stump of an arm.
I couldn’t do this anymore. Adding as much steel to my voice as I could muster, I said, “I know you are, but you look like hell. You’re exhausted and you shouldn’t be on the road. I willnotbe responsible for you doing this to someone else.”
As my words sunk in, he finally met my gaze. Anguish called to me from behind his eyes, breaking my heart. Knowing I had to end this for good, I held his painful gaze and put us both out of our misery. “Leave, Ken. Don’t come back. I mean it. I know you’re sorry, but I don’t want to see you again.”
Instead of responding, he stood in silence. Just as I was about to reach for my call button and get security to escort him out, he nodded. “My wife said my presence probably only makes it harder for you. I’m sorry, Captain Johnson.” A sob broke his voice. “I… I… I’ll keep praying for you, and if you ever need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to call me.”
“Thank you.”
Finally, he turned and walked out.
Hoping I’d never have to see him again, I released a breath and tried to pull myself together. My reprieve was short-lived because Jagger was the next visitor to knock on my door. He brought a fluffy brown teddy bear wearing a red and white striped bow tie.
“Hey. I saw this and thought of you.”
I eyed the bear. “I don’t know whether you’re calling me fat or saying I have the skin tone of a bear.”
He choked on a laugh and looked away. When he turned back to me, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “The guys were all scared you’d kick our asses, so we never told you this, but we wanted to change your call sign.”
This was the first I’d heard of such nonsense, which surprised me since they were all horrible at keeping secrets. “To what?”
“Mama Bear.” He sat the stuffed animal beside me. “The way you were always looking out for us…” He looked away again.
My heart squeezed tight. He said “were,” as in past-tense. Looking out for these assholes had been an honor. An honor that would no longer be mine. “Someone had to be the adult in the group.”
Chuckling, he wiped away a tear before turning back to face me. “I’m sorry. It should be me in that bed. Or you should have let me get an Uber or something.”
“Hindsight’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
“Sure the fuck is.” He shook himself. “You need anything?”
“I need people to stop asking me that damn question. I’m kinda laid up right now, so it’s not like I can do a lot.”
“Noted. If that changes, call me. I mean it, Mama Bear, night or day, I’m here for you.”
