Dr. Roshan nods. “We did see that in his records. We ran an EKG and everything appears to be fine.”
“You’re sure?” I ask.
“I’m sure.” He gives me a patient smile before continuing. “Looks like one of the nurses dug up your emergency contact info from the files the university shares with us and someone left a message with your mother.”
Bennett groans, tossing his head back against his pillow. “Fuuuuuuck me.”
That elicits a laugh as the doctor backs out the door. “Moms.” He shivers. “Fear in the hearts of men and all that. Push the nurse call button if you need anything. But for the love of god, use it sparingly. My staff’s patience is running thin tonight. We had a handful of frat guys come in earlier after shooting off firecrackers from a turkey fryer and they got caught trying to steal boxes of grippy socks.”
“Well, look at that,” I tell Bennett once Dr. Roshan is gone. “You’re not even the most interesting patient in the ER tonight.”
“I amveryinteresting,” he says. “Hey, is that my sweatshirt?”
“No,” I blurt. “Yes. But you left it and we’re still married, so isn’t it communal property or something?”
“Looks better on you, anyway.”
He pulls me to him with his good arm, my cheek resting against his warm chest.
“Maybe we shouldn’t—the doctor just said you have two broken ribs. I don’t want to put any weight on you.”
“I don’t care,” he says.
“Why did you do it?” I whisper. “The scoreboard.”
He’s quiet for long enough that I look up to make sure he’s not asleep, but his gaze is focused on the small window at the top of his door. “I needed to know I could be good.”
“Bennett.” I take his chin in my hand and force him to look down at me. “Bennett, youaregood. Do you hear me?”
“If that’s true, then why aren’t we staying married?” His words are fuzzy, like they’re sticking to the roof of his mouth, and I notice that the drip of pain meds they have him on is nearly empty, but the question still chips away at my heart. He makes it sound so simple. But can it really be that simple? Is there a world where we just do thisdamn thing and give it a go? Will we ruin our chances of being truly happy if we don’t take a step back?
“Let’s watch TV,” he says.
I grab the controller attached to the bed.
He eyes the nurse call button mischievously and presses down on the red circle before I have a chance to yank it away.
“Bennett!”
“What?” He’s too pleased with himself as he wiggles his toes. “I didn’t get any grippy socks.”
We spend the next two hours watching old episodes ofBaywatchon the tiny grainy television suspended in the corner. When the nurse gives him the all clear and says the doctor will be in to discharge him as soon as he can, Bennett falls asleep the minute the door shuts behind her.
It’s with him practically curled around me and his left wrist in a black brace that Sydney finds us.
She opens her mouth to speak—likely to demand answers—when she sees that he is passed out and instead slumps into the chair beside the bed.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with this,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I got in late last night and didn’t realize my phone was still on airplane mode. I couldn’t believe how peaceful things were.” Under her anorak, she wears jeans, clogs, and a baggy white T-shirt that probably costs more than I make in a week. There are bags under her eyes and new lines that I don’t recall spidering out from the corners.
I give her a weak smile as I slither out from under the weight of Bennett’s arm and step into my slippers.
“You should go get some sleep,” she tells me as she takes in my appearance. “I saw Julian out in the waiting room. He says Benny hasn’t been staying at the dorm.”
I shake my head, my arms wrapped around my middle.
“Did you talk to him about the—”
“Yeah. It didn’t go very well.”
