Caring for her makes her my patient, which muddies the waters of how I feel about her.
But I can’t in good conscience let her go home alone in this state.
“What?” She gazes up at me with bleary, wide eyes.
“Come home with me. Let me help you.”
“This is the bathroom. Please take a shower if you'd like. There’s a plastic sleeve under the sink that you can use to protect your arm. I’ll make some coffee.”
Snow sobered up somewhat on the drive to my apartment and she stands in the bathroom door, swaying slightly as uncertainty washes over her face.
“What about my clothes?” She plucks at her sparkling blouse. “I have no clothes.”
“I’ll leave clean clothes outside the door for you, okay?”
She nods slowly and steps into the bathroom.
After the door closes, I listen for the clunk of the shower then head through to the kitchen.
Having Snow here technically breaks a few rules since I listed myself as her primary care physician, but letting her go back to her apartment alone after everything that’s happened just didn’t sit right with me.
I replay her words back in the hospital while brewing up a fresh pot of coffee, drumming my fingers on the countertop.
Caleb was her ex.
If I’d found that out sooner, maybe I would have done something?—
I cut off my own thoughts with a groan.
I can’t mistake her friendliness for anything other than what it is.
Simple pleasantries.
She’s my friend, if anything, and I don’t need any of my insecurities trying to read signs that don’t exist.
She’s hurt and grieving.
I need to be a pillar of support that lasts longer than the friends who ditched her at the hospital and ran.
While the coffee brews, I collect some soft clothes from my closet and lay them outside the bathroom for her.
By the time the coffee has brewed and I’ve poured two cups and made some toast, Snow’s in my kitchen looking rather adorable with my sweater and jogging pants hanging off her frame.
“Thank you,” she says, sniffling. Her eyes seem redder than before. She must have been crying again. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Coffee?”
She shakes her head and touches her abdomen. “I puked in your toilet. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I made toast to soak up the alcohol, but if you’re feeling queasy, it might not be best.”
“Is it… is it alright if I just go to sleep?” The soft way she speaks pulls at my heart as if she expects me to scold her or give her trouble for something as painfully natural as puking.
“You can sleep in my spare room. It might be a little cold, but I’ve turned on the heating for you. This way.” Leading the way through my apartment, just past the bathroom is another door that I open and turn on the light.
Simple decor lights up under the pale glow and Snow beelines for the bed.
She touches the cover with her fingertips, then turns to face me with a sad smile. “Thank you.”
