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“So I can come in?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m waiting.”
Pushing inside, she had a quick visual of the hospital bed he was on, the vitals monitor he was plugged into, and the IV bag that was tubed into his arm. And then it was all about the male who was lying back on those pale blue and white sheets: L.W. had no top on, his tattoos and his muscles out of place on the pristine bedding, not because he was dirty, but because he was the kind of thing that looked like it would sleep on a bed of nails.
There were a lot of bandages. On his shoulder. On his side.
And his eyes were not as focused as they usually were. They were still that beautiful pale green, though, and they were, as usual, on her.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay?” She hesitated. “I don’t mean to intrude or anything.”
L.W. shook his head and shrugged with his hands. “You’re not. What’m I doing here. Just marking time until all this is fixed.”
“You’re not stitched up?”
“Not yet. Manny says I need surgery. My liver’s leaking or something. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to it. He’ll take care of me soon enough.”
His sentences were short, likely because even with the drugs, he was in pain. Other than that ever so subtle shift in speech, though, you’d never know he was so badly injured.
“You’re so brave about being cut open.” She winced. “Okay, that was a stupid thing to say. I mean, if I were facing surgery, I’d be terrified—”
Shut up, Bitty.
The smile that hit L.W.’s face was… transformative, making him look closer to his actual age. As opposed to something that was ancient and tired of the world.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve gone under. The knife a lot of times. With Manny. He’s amazing. I’m really not. Worried about it.”
As she smiled back at him, she…
Ran the hell out of things to say. Damn it, she really could have used a game plan for this. All of that Resolve2Evolve stuff, about expressing her truth (she was so glad he was okay), claiming her space (she was not going to be embarrassed for coming to see him), and being confident (she was staring at his bare, tattooed chest, and that was not the kind of confidence that seemed appropriate in this situation), did not appear to be helping her much.
What she really needed was practical advice. Like how not to say something stupid about being scared of surgery to a patient with a hole in their liver.
Or whatever was wrong with him.
God, why did she and Nalla have to fall out? Nalla always gave great advice—
“You could sit down,” L.W. said as he pointed to the comfy chair in the corner. “And keep me company. Until they come to get me. If you want. Won’t be much longer. Only about twenty minutes or so.”
Bitty started to smile. Maybe she wasn’t doing as badly as she thought she was.
“I’ll do that,” she murmured as she went over and sat down. “I’m happy to help take your mind off things.”
Those eyes grew hooded as he stared across at her. “Oh, you do that. Always.”
As Nalla stepped out of Nate’s log cabin, she glanced around at the snow-covered landscape. There was a set of tire tracks into the property and then back out again, and footprints around the entry, but other than that, nothing was disturbed, and she scented nothing.
Well, nothing that smelled like baby powder and sweaty death. She did catch a whiff of burned something or another. Not a chimney, but something else bonfire-ish. Which wasn’t dangerous.
Just the kind of thing that made her nose wrinkle.
Walking forward, she made like she had somewhere to go. And she did. Kind of.
“Fuck,” she muttered as she stopped and looked up at the sky.
There were no stars out, the sky dense with clouds. More snow? Sure, why not—
Holy hell, the center of her chest hurt, and those eggs had been a really bad idea. Putting her hand on her stomach, she wondered whether she was going to throw up now or wait until she was off his land. Spoiled for choice on that one.
