“I’m fine, babe.” I cup one side of his face. “Stop worrying. I’m a little sore, but it’s nothing some pain pills, time, and a few hot baths won’t cure.”
“She needs to be medically assessed by a paramedic,” one of the policemen says to Garrick.
“And we’ll need you to make a formal statement,” the other one adds, glancing over his shoulder at where Simone is being strapped to a gurney and carried to one of two ambulances now parked on the grass. I hadn’t even heard them arriving.
“Can it wait?” Garrick asks, perching his butt on the arm of the bench and gently sliding his arm around my shoulders. “She really needs to rest.”
“That’s fine.” The taller of the two policemen hands Garrick his card. “Call me in a couple days, and we’ll arrange a time.”
They leave as a female paramedic arrives to inspect me. I ask Garrick to call Sharon and explain the situation before I go with the paramedic to the second ambulance. I sit up on the floor at the open back of the vehicle with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders while the nice lady asks me a bunch of questions and conducts a few quick checks.
Garrick and Cohen stand off to one side, talking in hushed tones. Though it looks like they are having an intense conversation, Garrick’s eyes never wander from mine.
When I’m done, he’s by my side in a nanosecond, gently cradling me against his body as we listen to the instructions from the paramedic. “You have a mild concussion, Stevie, and you need to take it easy for a few days and rest at home. If you experience any nausea or vomiting, you feel repeatedly dizzy or light-headed, or you have any issues concentrating or remembering things in the next few days, go straight to the emergency room. For now, take these painkillers and go home to bed.”
* * *
Over the course of the next week, Garrick fusses over me like you wouldn’t believe. He moves in—temporarily—to take care of me, but I don’t protest. I have a permanent headache, and my body is sore all over, so it’s nice having him here. He won’t let me lift a finger, and he insists I skip all my shifts this week, making me promise I won’t return to either job or classes until I’m feeling well enough. I’ve built up a lot of credits, so I can afford to miss a few classes. I know I have the time to catch up.
Mom and Nana drive down on Sunday to check on me, and a girl could get used to being mollycoddled.
After we patch things up with Cohen, he apologizes profusely to me and the guys, finally admitting something we all know—he’s got an alcohol problem. He is attending an outpatient program, around classes and training, and he’s moved out of the frat house and into a single dorm. He’s quit partying and is focusing instead on his studies, football, and his recovery. He seems sincere, and we are giving him the benefit of the doubt. I don’t think Garrick will ever have the same relationship with him, but at least it’s amicable now, and we don’t have to dodge him around campus.
Simone is gone for good. It turns out she was doing this to three other guys and their girlfriends. The college was already taking steps to kick her out when her parents showed up and took her home. The last we heard, she is receiving psychiatric care, and I hope it helps.
I didn’t suffer anything more than aches, pains, and bruises, and I can’t find it in me to hold a grudge against her. Garrick isn’t as charitable, and he wasn’t pleased I dropped the assault charge. He is entitled to his feelings, and I understand it. I’d feel the same way if he was the one who’d been hurt, but I prefer to put it behind us and move forward.
Things are finally back on track with us after a few rocky weeks, and life has settled down.
Before I know it, Thanksgiving has arrived. Which means today I’m finally getting to meet his mother officially.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a complete basket case.
A lot hinges on today, and I want it to be perfect.
I already know the odds are stacked against me.
Despite the assurances she has given her son, I expect Ivy is only doing this to humor Garrick. I very much doubt she has changed her opinion of me or given up on her plans to marry her son to the governor’s daughter. But I owe it to Garrick to give her the benefit of the doubt, so I’m attending Thanksgiving dinner with an open mind.
“Are you sure this dress is good enough?” I ask for the umpteenth time as we exit my house.
“You look gorgeous.” Garrick’s slow perusal as he drags his eyes the length of my body brings a blush to my cheeks.
He has been staying over at my apartment a lot lately—I refuse to sleep at his place because his bedroom is a mess, and it gives me anxiety anytime I set foot inside it—and the sex is insanely good. He’s learned how to turn me on with one sultry look, and I walk around in a state of near-constant need.
Regular sex on tap is definitely a perk of being in a committed relationship. I never realized sex could be like this. Sleeping with someone I love is intense and intimate, and I feel it on a transcendental level. I never feel closer to Garrick than when he’s buried deep inside me, looking straight into my eyes, as he summons pleasure from my body like a skilled magician. Postcoital snuggling is heavenly too, and I love going to sleep wrapped up in his warm embrace.
He hasn’t mentioned marriage or moving in lately, and I appreciate he is respecting my wishes and toning things down.
It’s not that I don’t love him.
I really truly do.
He makes me incredibly happy.
I love having someone to support me. Someone who will listen when I’ve had a shit day or someone to share exciting news with.
Garrick was there to hold my hand when I sent off my DNA test to that ancestry place, and he was there to console me when the results showed no paternal connections.
