“You can stay but I may drift in and out,” I say.
And I do just that. Every time I wake, the light in the room is different. It goes from full sun to evening light to no light but there’s always a different family member there by my side. And every time, I ask them if someone is still with Jake. Thankfully they always say yes.
By the next day, I feel much better. Tender as all hell but more alert and they’ve moved me onto a lower dose of pain meds. Doctor Leclerc pops in to check on me and clears me for more movement, not just the two feet I’ve been walking to the bathroom. Nova is with me when I get the news, having convinced my parents to go home and get some actual rest. They’d been here in the hospital for almost twenty-four straight hours. Declan and Finn are back at the restaurant ,and Logan is with River and is going to bring him by later this afternoon if I’m up for it.
“Can I walk with Jake? Is he allowed to walk yet?” I ask the nurse.
I carefully pull myself out of the bed and onto my feet. Nova hands me my robe so that the stupid hospital gown doesn’t flash my ass at people as I go on this journey. The nurse nods his head. “You can walk over to his room and ask him if he wants to join.”
Nova takes my arm gently at the elbow and I let her because I’m a little nervous about this. Jake’s surgery was done laparoscopically, but I had to be opened right up and the incision area is super tender. The nurse follows behind as I slowly but steadily make my way out of the room and turn left.
I’m smiling, excited to see Jake, and I can show it around Nova because she’s kind of in on this. I haven’t told her about anything more than the first two kisses, but still. I’ve seen Jake since the recovery room only once. He snuck into my room last night after midnight. I was in that weightless pain-killer induced place between sleep and awake. I could barely open my eyes, but I knew it was him who kissed my cheek and whispered my name. I could tell by the scrub of his stubble and the feel of his lips. My Mom was asleep in a reclining vinyl chair by the window when I finally opened my eyes completely and I saw him slip out of the room.
The expectant smile on my lips disappears the second I walk through the wide-open door to his room. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with Aspen standing in front of him. I know it’s her even from behind because those wild, wheat blond curls are one of a kind in Ocean Pines. If it wasn’t for the hair I might not have known straight away because she isn’t dressed like Aspen. She’s in leggings and Converse and a very oversized, chunky knit sweater that almost hits her knees. Aspen’s style is usually tight, clingy stuff.
Jake sees me in the doorway and the color drains from his face, which makes me feel like he’s guilty of something. I turn abruptly. “Sorry. I’ll see you later.”
“No!” Jake calls out. “Stop!”
“Terra, wait!” Aspen adds, her voice desperate. I want to keep walking but Nova has stopped and is still holding onto my elbow. I begrudgingly turn back around. Aspen looks nervous and something else. Sad? Depressed, maybe? She says, “I hope you’re doing okay. You look good.”
I tip my head down and look at my pale green hospital gown and the unicorn slippers on my feet that my mom brought me from home along with my fuzzy blue robe I’m wearing. I also know my hair hasn’t been brushed in forty-eight hours and I don’t have a lick of make-up on, and my lips are slightly chapped. I cock an eyebrow at her. “I look good, do I?”
“Well, I mean… you look healthy. Like you have a hunky new kidney.” She attempts a smile but it’s awkward. “I mean… his insides have gotta be as hot as his outsides, right?”
Her voice raises nervously, like she’s terrified I won’t be able to joke with her. Suddenly, I am reminded of the good times we had together growing up and how her voice would get like that any time we were on the verge of trouble. Like the time we got caught trying to break into the teachers’ lounge because we found out they had Crispy Kremes delivered every Friday. I have to force myself not to smile. Remembering she slept with Jake just three short months ago does the trick. “It’s probably a good-looking organ, you’re right. And so far it’s happy in its new home, thankfully.”
“Good. I’m glad, Terra. Honestly. Happy everything is working out for you. All of it,” she says softly and then grabs her purse from the chair by his bed. “I’ve got to go. See you around when you’re home and stuff. I hope.”
“Bye,” I follow her with my eyes as she walks down the hall and turns the corner to the elevator bank. Something is weird with her. I shouldn’t care but I do for some reason.
“You’re walking? That’s good,” Jake says getting up off his bed. He’s in a pair of gray T-shirt material pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt, both clearly not hospital issued like most of my outfit. His feet are clad in hospital socks with the little grips on the bottom. “Do you want company?”
“That’s exactly why we came,” Nova says before I can answer. She motions for him to come forward. “Why don’t you go with her and I’ll go downstairs and get a coffee. I’m suddenly feeling rundown, like I need a pick-me-up.”
“You don’t drink coffee, Nova.” I remind her flatly.
She grins. “Today is the day I’ve decided to start. See you soon. Don’t overdo it.”
“I hate you,” I mutter but not loud enough for anyone to hear because I don’t really mean it. Jake is now beside me. Instead of taking my elbow, he takes my hand in his.
“This good?” he asks.
“I can manage without help,” I reply and realize the chill in my voice so I pause and take a deep breath. “But yeah, it is good. To feel you again.”
He smiles. “Feels good to feel you too.”
I feel energized by that. Stronger. I start walking with more confidence than I had on my way to Jake’s room, but I still keep the arm rail attached to the wall within grabbing distance. The ache in my side doesn’t get worse, but it doesn’t get better either. He looks like he’s not in much discomfort.
“You seem good,” I say.
“A little achey and all the laparoscopy holes on my stomach make me look like I have gun shots wounds which is weird, but I’m better than I thought I would be,” Jake replies, his thumb is absently skimming back and forth across my wrist.
We reach the end of the hall and turn around to start back.
“She was just here checking on me as a friend,” Jake tells me, clearly not afraid to tackle the elephant in the hallway with us.
“I didn’t know you’d told her about the operation is all,” I reply and slow a little bit. How is this so exhausting? I’m on my feet running around a restaurant all day every day. My steps tracker has me averaging ten thousand steps every work day, but I’m almost out of breath from half a hallway.
