“He won’t be admitted,” I assure them. “Even if he needs surgery, that’s something that will be scheduled.”
Noah clears his throat. “You did well. Getting down there and getting his shoulder back in place like that.”
I swallow down the sarcastic comment that initially leaps to my tongue. It’ll take time and a lot of practice before my first response isn’t defensiveness with these guys. But I’m committed to making it work. I’m done trying. From here on out, I’m just fucking doing it.
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
With a soft smile, Sawyer laces her fingers with mine and squeezes.
Noah runs his free hand through his hair. “I can take you back to campus if you’d like, since we’re already out.”
“No,” I reply instantly. Without even looking at Sawyer, I know what she wants and where we both need to be tonight. “I don’t want to be separated. Once Mercer’s done, we’re all going home together.”
They both stare at me, wide-eyed with shock.
“Home?” Sawyer says, a teasing, hopeful smile on her lips.
I nod and sit straighter. “Home. Together.”
A shadow blocks the fluorescent light overhead, and the three of us turn.
Mercer looms over us, a blue sling fit snugly over his injured arm. “Scans look okay,” he announces without fanfare. “I need to come back for another round of imaging next week, once the swelling goes down.” He turns his attention to me. “The orthopedic resident said it was the best re-location he’d seen in a while. Thank you.”
Nodding, I stand and pull Sawyer up, then help her into her coat. Then I hold Mercer’s for him so he can put his good arm through one sleeve.
Quietly, Mercer says, “Noah?”
The other man is still seated in the hard plastic waiting room chair, but he’s now hunched over with his head in his hands.
Chapter fifty-nine
Noah
Mercer’s voice cuts through the loud, intrusive thoughts that have plagued me since the moment he called Sawyer. I force myself to look up at him.
Guilt, shame, and so much fucking anger roll through me as I take in the state of my best friend.
He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be wearing a sling, nursing a significant injury.
I hate myself right now.
Yet he and Sawyer and Tytus are all watching me timidly, and I hate the idea of disappointing them more.
Sawyer steps forward first, extending her hand. “Do you want me to drive?”
I’m in awe of this woman. She saw the worst of me today: the panicked, frightened, self-loathing version I try so hard to keep hidden from the world.
She saw the mess I become when grief sinks its claws into me.
Yet she didn’t falter.
I was triggered, but she was steady.
I crumbled like I’ve done so many times before, like I’m bound to do again, but she didn’t shy away from the reality of my pain.
She sat with me in my grief. She held me as I sobbed and lashed out. She promised there wasn’t any version of me she couldn’t handle.
I believe her.
