The doctor shook his head gently. “Those symptoms can persist but typically don’t worsen. We recommend rest, limited stimulation, and close monitoring at home. We will send a letter to his workplace to excuse him for at least the next week or two. We will provide detailed instructions on warning signs that would require immediate return.”
He glanced at Lincoln. “We expect you to need some support during recovery. Do you have someone who can assist you?”
Lincoln nodded slowly. “Yes, my girlfriend?—”
I caught my breath and tried to interrupt where this was going, but the doctor cut in. “Good. That support system is crucial. I anticipate in-home support won’t be an issue?”
“No, we’ve been together for a long time,” Lincoln added. “I’m sure that’s not an issue.” He winked my way, dimpled smile and all. This was the Lincoln I knew: cocky, presumptuous, and unbothered by other people’s feelings.
Dr. Collins continued, checking his pager and tapping on his iPad to, I assumed, the next patient. “We’ll go ahead and discharge you,” he said, heading to the door. “You’ll need a follow-up in a few days. If any concerning symptoms arise—severe headaches, worsening confusion, seizures—please call emergency services.” He pulled on the doorknob. “Light sensitivity, dizziness, even to the point of losing balance, and irritability are all perfectly normal.”
The doctor smiled. “Just take it easy, and let your body heal.” Then Dr. Collins headed out without looking back.
Dr. Kwan stayed for a few seconds, more out of lagged response than care, then scooted away. With spiraling thoughts, I quickly headed after the doctors, not caring that Lincoln called after me.
“Hey,” I whisper-yelled, catching up to Dr. Collins, Kwan now behind me. “Doctor, can I speak with you for a moment?” I asked, pulling him aside.
He nodded, stepping closer.
“Honestly, I’m not comfortable being his primary caregiver. There must be other options.”
The doctor studied me for a moment. “This is a difficult situation, we’ve been unable to reach the emergency contact. Your cousin, yes? The safest option is to discharge him with someone he knows.”
I bit my lip. “Doctor, you’re not understanding me. Yes, I know Lincoln, and he’s close with my cousin, but—” I took a deep breath. “Doctor, Lincoln’s wrong. Truth is?—”
He offered a reassuring smile but still cut me off. “We’ll provide detailed instructions, medication schedules, and support services, if needed. Patients with his injury need assistance at home, and having someone familiar, even if it’s complicated, is always best.”
“Why can’t hestay?” I asked, hissing out the words. “We aren’t together like that, Lincoln should know. He won’t want me caring for him when he does.” My voice was getting high-pitched and slightly frantic.
“Ms. Reyes—” Dr. Collins was interrupted by an announcement calling for additional support in the emergency room. The older doctor dismissed Kwan with a flick of his eyes. “His condition is not emergent. Holding him here is not an option.” He exhaled. “Besides, revealing the true nature of your relationship at this moment is not advisable. It could be detrimental.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Lincoln’s best chance to recover is relying on someone he’s attached to.”
His words should have comforted me, but a knot tightened in my chest.
The speaker now called for Dr. Collins to report elsewhere. “I need to go now, but let me be clear”—he met my anxious eyes with impatience—“right now, you’re Lincoln’s best option.”
I didn’t want the fact that it was Lincoln to turn me into the type of person who’d walk away from someone in need. He’d helpedmeget out of the car’s way. I could help him until Vinny figured something out. I’d do this, even for LincolnfuckingCarter. I bit my lip, swallowing the chaos of resentment, confusion. With a sigh, I went to respond, but the doctor had already left.
Beneath my frustration was something messier, a tangle of feelings I had no energy for. With a deep inhale, urging my heart to settle, I opened the door to make a plan with Lincoln.
As soon as I peaked in, Lincoln’s head shifted my way. His smile spilled across his cheeks, boundless and unchecked, dimples deeper than in the cocky, uneven grin I knew. His eyes shone in relief to have me back, and it knocked the air out of my lungs that this man could be so happy to see me. For one traitorous heartbeat, I forgot every reason why I hated him.
“Babe”—his voice broke the spell—“are you hungry? I’ve got some food.”
Lincoln had a half-eaten sandwich on a tray in front of him and was eating his third cup of Jell-O, two more unopened ones to go. He licked his spoon clean, a loud pop as he released it from his lips. This man wasn’t innocent or silly, he had no right to forget what he was capable of. Memories rushed through my mind, ending with Lincoln pushing me away and his head on the pavement, bleeding into the puddle. Helping him was the right thing to do, even ifIdidn’t have the luxury of forgetting.
“Lincoln.” His name came out in a tired exhale. “The doctors said you need someone to keep an eye on you.”
“I know,” he said, finishing the last of the sandwich. “I figured since we live together, it wouldn’t be a lot to ask.”
“We don’t live together.”
“What do you mean?” Lincoln’s brow creased as he tilted his head. “Why wouldn’t we live together if we met at seventeen?”
It was so straightforward for him. Not living together was so ridiculous he didn’t even look my way, he shook the chunks off his hospital gown, frowning at the stain, and opened the fourth container of Jell-O.
I shouldn’t upset himI reminded myself, taking a deep breath. “Well, we don’t. I don’t have enough room in my apartment for you, so I’ll have to stay with you.”
Lincoln narrowed his eyes at me while plowing through the Jell-O. “I’m fine with that.”
