I need calm and a hug… and maybe some cupcakes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CIDNEY
George walks into my room,and the embarrassment I feel just by his presence hasn’t faded. He gives me a small smile as he reaches for the clipboard. He flicks his attention to the papers in front of him.
I watch as his gaze moves over the document. I have no idea what he’s reading, but I’m not sure I want to know, either. I’ve been told what’s happened to me, but I still don’t ever want to hear it out loud.
I’m sure that means I’m in some kind of denial and probably need counseling, but I’m going to swim in my denial and move along.
“Are you ready to go home?” he asks.
I don’t answer him because I’m not ready to go home. I’m ready to get out of the hospital, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to go home. When I don’t answer him immediately, he lifts his head, and his eyes find mine.
“You good?” he asks.
I can hear the concern in his voice. It’s sweet, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be good again, or if I ever really was. I don’t think I was ever really good. I don’t know what I was, or what I am, but I need to breathe, and I can’t do that here or at my place.
I’m just really happy that Lainey is going to show me some mercy and let me stay at her place for a while, but I know I can’t stay there forever, as much as I want to. Maybe I’ll just look for a new place to live. There’s no reason for me to stay at that apartment. I don’t own it, and it holds no sentimental value.
“As good as I can be,” I whisper.
“A Reaper’s been hanging around outside your door since late last night. The nurses were too scared to ask him to leave. I told them to let him stay. Figured he was protection or something.”
My heart squeezes at his words. “A Reaper?” I ask in a whisper.
I know it’s not Justin. I know it’s not Maverick. They’ve been in and out of the room, and he would have said their names. He dips his chin in a single nod before he speaks, and when he does, I know who it is without even hearing his name.
“Hasn’t closed his eyes for more than a second, maybe not even that much, not sure. But I didn’t make him leave, didn’t want to piss him off. Seems like someone you wouldn’t want to piss off.”
George reaches out to wrap his fingers around my hand, but the second he touches me, I recoil. I bring my hand to my chest, and my eyes widen as I lift my gaze to meet his. I can feel my eyes widen and my lips part in fear, or maybe horror, I’m not sure.
He pulls his hand away, gripping the clipboard again. The smile he wears this time is sad. That pitiful expression he wore earlier returns, and my whole body sags. I hate myself for this, for all of it. I led him on, my broken heart wanting something that I thought he could give me, but it was stupid.
A touch I found comforting is now scary. He was supposed to be homemade soup, and now I don’t know what he is. Maybe I was delusional then, too, not just now. Possibly, I’ve always been delusional. That seems more like the case when it comes to me.
“I’m not going to pursue this with you, honey. Just know if you’re ever ready for more from me, you know where to find me.”
“Why are you so nice?”
He chuckles. “I’m not really that nice.”
“Don’t fool yourself, George. You are.”
He lifts his head, shaking it a couple of times. “I’m not, honey. But I like that you think so highly of me.”
We stare at one another for a long moment, then he clears his throat and places the clipboard back in its holder.
“I’m going to go ahead and approve you for discharge. I’m going to put in some prescriptions for pain meds. Just keep a pulse on yourself, Cidney. If you start feeling really bad, get a fever, or throw up, come back here. You call me, something, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
This feels like the end—the end of something that never really began.
He walks toward the door, then stops before he opens it, looking back over his shoulder at me. His gaze finds mine, and his lips twitch into a smirk.
“Whoever he is, I hope he’s worthy of you. Though I fucking doubt it, because you’re amazing.”
