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We stared at one another and my eyes lingered on her face. Her hazel eyes stared back at me from a full face of makeup that seemed almost luminescent. She didn’t have a wrinkle on her face, courtesy of the botox I was sure Dad pumped into her skin. Her fake breasts were sky high, propped underneath her chin without any sort of effort. Her hair was pulled back in a modest fashion. Probably a habit she hadn’t broken from her childhood. And as I lay there, studying her, I realized something.
She reminded me a bit of Mom.
Guess Dad has a type.
“Do you need anything?”
Cecilia’s voice filled my mind and I shook my head.
“Nah. I’m good for now. Though I’d really like to see—”
A knock on the door interrupted my sentence, and I hoped it was Rae. Cecilia slid off the edge of the bed, whipping around to see who it was. I knew she wanted it to be Dad. While I wished it to be Rae. But instead, we were both disappointed as a man in a white coat came strolling in the door with a clipboard underneath his armpit.
My heart sank as he walked toward us. And I had a feeling Cecilia’s heart was doing the same thing.
“Hey, Doc,” I said.
Cecilia sat back down, quickly falling into ‘her place.’ She got out of the way of the man, making herself as small as possible as the doctor came to stand at my side. He silently checked my tubing. My I.V. My morphine drip. A few other things, before finally standing upright. I saw his eyes lingering on Cecilia for just a few seconds longer than was appropriate. Then he turned his attention back to me.
“All right. Since you’ve had an evening to rest and recuperate out of surgery, I think it’s time we discuss what you’re looking at in terms of your recovery.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. How long do you think I’ll be in the hospital?”
The doctor peeked back at Cecilia before answering. “Three days, at least. But the nurses have examined you all through the night and you seem very stable. If today goes well and we don’t run into any issues, you’ll be transferred out of ICU and into a regular room.”
Cecilia sighed. “Thank the Lord.”
“But your recovery is going to be daunting. You’ll be on pain medication for a while. And there are police officers who are clamoring out here to speak with you once you’re able to recall your side of events from last night.”
I nodded. “You can send them in once we’re done talking.”
The doctor paused. “Do you want to wait for your father?”
Cecilia stood up before coming to my side. She found her voice as she reached for my hand, cradling it within hers. She looked that doctor straight in his eyes, even though I felt her hand trembling with nerves. Finding her place beside me when Dad should have been there himself.
“I’m here, and whatever you tell me I can relay to my husband,” she said.
And damn it, I was proud of her for finding her voice.
7
Raelynn
After I got sick on the side of the road, Michael made the executive decision to keep driving around. And I was thankful for it, because I couldn't go into my house like that. I’d still been too shaken up to deal with being alone. For all I knew, I’d walk right in on Mom and D.J. in the living room, and I’d erupt. Just completely unload all the stress and anxiety and worry on my shoulders off onto them. And they didn’t deserve that.
I mean, D.J. did. But not Mom.
We drove around and Michael made me eat my food. Despite the fact that I was convinced it might make me sicker, he convinced me otherwise. And again, he’d been right. The saltiness of the fries settled my nausea, and eating the chicken wrap leveled out my blood sugar. For the most part, my trembling stopped. The shaking in my hands ceased. Some of the nausea in my stomach abated, giving me a bit of rest.
Then Michael drove me out to that park.
We sat there on the bench where Clint and I had sat a few weeks back. A few weeks. Holy shit, it felt like a few months. A few years. I ran my fingers through my hair and kept sighing. I gazed off at that bright star between the trees, wondering if Clint was all right. And the entire time, Michael stayed by my side. Even though Allison bombarded him with phone calls. Even though she begged him to tell her what was happening. He didn’t tell her, and he didn’t leave my side.
Which pushed even more tears down my face.
I cried on Michael’s shoulder as we sat in that park. I ranted his ear off as I paced around in front of him. I regaled him with how Clint had found me out here. How much I wanted to shove his face into the dirt before he opened up randomly about his home life. Prompting me to talk about mine. I kept telling him story after story. How we made it back to Clint’s house. What happened. How he made me feel. I spilled it all out to Michael and he listened while nodding his head, drinking it all in.
And not once did he criticize me for it.
