“Damn. No wonder you’re into her.”
I rub the back of my neck. “That’s the problem. I’m not supposed to be, but she’s the only thing keeping this hospital from feeling like a prison.”
“Why is it a problem?”
“She’s my nurse.”
“For now.”
“Em said the same thing when we last talked.”
“Because she’s right,” he deadpans. “Look, I get it—boundaries, ethics, all that—but you should’ve seen your face when she left the room.”
I kick him under the table, aiming for his shin. “I can’t see my own face, you idiot.”
“Don’t be a smartass. You turned toward the door, your body missed her before your brain caught up.”
Shaking my head, I bite back a grin. “You’re annoyingly observant.”
“And you’re oblivious.”
We fall into silence, the low buzz of the cafeteria filling the space between us. A burst of laughter from a nearby table cuts through, the sound sharp and unwelcome. It pulls me back to a time when life was simpler. When I was the one laughing, not sitting here chasing shadows. The sound is a sobering reminder of just how far I am from the life I knew, and how long the climb back will be.
There’s the scrape of a chair before Jasper unlocks the wheels with an exaggerated flourish. “Alright, come on, Seaborn. Let’s get you back to your luxury suite.”
“Do I get chocolate on my pillow?”
“If I manage to steal one from the nurses’ break room. But now, your chariot awaits, sir.”
The elevator ride is quiet except Jasper humming a popular Christmas song off-key under his breath. It’s stupid and endearing and sohim.
When we reach my room, he helps me into bed. I ease into the pillows with a relieved sigh. The constant tiredness is no joke.
“I feel like we should FaceTime Em or something, but I’m wiped. I’m ready for a nap.”
“She said she would call you after her day of meetings. So don’t you worry about it.” Jasper pats my shoulder. “I’ll get out of your hair. But seriously, give Ivy the bracelet. If there’s ever a time to be bold, it’s now.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Before I forget: Merry Christmas, Teddy. I’m so fucking glad you’re still here with us.”
A lump pushes up my throat. Maybe it’s the holiday season or how close I came to not being here at all, but another small crack opens inside me. “Merry Christmas, Jasper.”
My friend clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “I know I haven’t said it often…but I love you, brother.”
Everything in me goes still. Those three words hit harder than they should. People toss them around every day, after all. Plenty of kids grow up hearing them until the words fade into background noise. Not me. My parents never said them. Not one damn time. Uncle Jake was the only one who ever let me hear those words as a kid, and thank fuck for him.
“Right back at you,” I manage as tears slip down my cheeks.
20
TEDDY
DECEMBER 25
It’s already Christmas Day. At least that’s what Samson, the night nurse, said when he checked my vitals. He asked if I wanted to join the festivities in the cafeteria later today. As if the wordfestivitiesmeans anything in a place where the walls are most likely off white, the windows don’t open more than a couple of inches, and half the people are trying not to die.
I stopped doing Christmases with my parents the year I turned eighteen and graduated high school. I moved in with Uncle Jake in Brooklyn, and dropped my trust fund like it was on fire. Sure, landing a contract with the Woodpeckers meant I was financially set, but telling my father to shove the money high up his ass? Still one of the highlights of my life.
