He scooped a hand under my legs and pulled them upwards before slipping a hand around my shoulders. In a slow, quiet movement, he sat me up.
“It was not my fault we got caught last time. You were the one who let the wind catch the door,” I whisper-argued.
The dark blue woolly socks maintained warmth in my feet when JJ helped me onto the floor, both of us glancing left at the oldies still snoring away on the other side of the bed. Nan’s head was resting on Al’s shoulder, while Dad’s head had fallen back over the chair he was in. His mouth was wide open, little snores escaping every few breaths.
“You were the one who thought hiding behind the TV was a bright idea,” he replied with a swift shake of his head.
“You hid under the stairs! That’s even more obvious!” I hissed.
Feeling like I’d done five hundred rapid kicks, my legs dragged and protested at every painfully slow movement. Not to mention the headache that had now returned with a bang. With the painkillers worn off, a rave of post-concussion aches bounced around inside my skull. JJ’s arm was around my back, holding me as steady as possible and trying to take some of my weight. My jaw creaked when I gritted my teeth and continued to move forward. But I didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop.
“Did you have to park the wheelchair half a kilometre away?”
“Beggars don’t get to be choosers,” JJ reminded me. “Besides, I know your stubborn ass would rather crawl to that wheelchair than let me carry you to it.”
I gritted my teeth, knowing he was right. My refusal to accept help had come back to bite me in the ass again.
“Thank you for helping me,” I said quietly. Just a few more steps. I could make a few more measly steps on flat ground,right?
“Of course, Lynnie.” JJ, surprised already by my acceptance of his help—let alone my gratitude, softly smiled down at me. My heart ached at that. He’d risked his life to come and save me, and he was surprised I’d recognise him helping me from my bed into a wheelchair?
“Not just for helping me out of the bed,” I continued.
“Well, I went and heisted a wheelchair too.”
“You know what I mean, J. Thank you for coming to save me.”
“Don’t sweat it.” He shrugged. “I just wanted those fuckers out of my house.”
Catching onto the humour he was using to put a wall up around himself, I didn’t push it any further. There would come a time when we would talk about what had happened, all of us, but that day wasn’t today.
I plonked down in the fabric seat and swallowed the breath of relief that filled my throat. JJ quietly opened the creaky door, using my meal tray to prop it open while he pushed me through.
I shaded my eyes with my hand immediately, the dimmed white lights around me burning my eyes and every inch of my skull. It was an effort not to bend at the waist and hide in the folds of my hospital gown.
“Sorry, Lynnie,” JJ mumbled, picking up his pace.
“It’s … it’s okay. These lights make me feel like someone’s shot me in both eyes.” The joke fell flat as a high-pitcheddingsounded and JJ pushed me into an elevator.
Silence filled our ride before anotherdingand JJ was pushing me out again. There were less lights on this floor, but more beeping and scuffling of people. With more space between the doors on this level, there didn’t seem to be any visitors floating around.
JJ pushed me alongside the nurses’ desk where an older lady with smooth brown skin and short ringlets of jet-black hair gave him a bright smile.
“He’s just gone back to sleep.” She swung around the side of the desk, passing by us. “He was asking for you, sweetness,” she cooed down at me.
Chance, my Chance, wasalive. My throat welled with a spaghetti ball, millions of emotions tangling and knottingtogether. The relief, god the relief. A shimmer of light zinged through my chest, a broken part of my soul kneading itself back together. After all, if my Chance was alive, there was no need for it to be broken.
“He’s okay?”
The pretty nurse opened her mouth to speak when JJ interrupted.
“He’s alive. That’s what matters,” he finished quickly.
She read whatever look JJ was giving her before smiling. A smile full of pity and sympathy that I’m sure she’d mastered from years of using it. “Absolutely. He’s been asking for you, Ms Trevino.”
“Mari is fine,” I said softly, channelling every ounce of energy into urging someone to take me to him.
Him.
