“You should go, Ezra.” Her words are like a slap to the face, even though I know she doesn’t mean them. “I’m sure there’s plenty to be done around the cidery for the wedding.”
How could I possibly leave knowing she’s here hurting? That she’s sitting here chewing on those gorgeous lips I love so much, waiting for the worst news? How could I ever leave her?
I can’t.
So I don’t.
I interlock my hand with hers, squeeze it tightly, and wait.
She’s trying to push me away, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her.
Daniel wakes up mid-Saturday, and Summer bursts into tears instantly.
I step out of the room to give them privacy, and when I come back, they’re both asleep again.
I stay the rest of the day and night, my hip shrieking over me sleeping in the world’s most uncomfortable chair. It’s happy for the break when I go home for a few hours to shower and change on Sunday.
As I’m headed back to the hospital, I hook a left instead of a right and go to Summer’s, using the code she gave me when she was sick. Igrab her a change of clothes, the book sitting on her bedside table, a phone charger, and her tablet, just in case.
A little bit later I walk through the double doors of the main hospital entrance, a duffel bag of clothes slung over one shoulder and a paper sack full of food in the other hand.
The receptionist waves at me as I pass, and not a single nurse stops me as I waltz through the ICU back to the room where Daniel is.
Summer does a double take when I enter.
“You’re back?” she asks, her eyes falling to the bag from Dickie’s Gourmet Burgers I have in my hand.
“I’m back.”
I hand it over, then set her duffel beside her on the floor before folding myself back into the uncomfortable chair.
I stay there that night too.
On Monday, I convince Summer to go home and shower.
She’s resistant at first, but when her dad chimes in about how bad she smells, she heeds my instructions and goes.
I hand her my Porsche keys—which they didn’t tow, thank fuck—and I take her spot next to her father.
We sit in silence for a long time. Daniel still drifts in and out of sleep because, apparently, a heart attack at his age really takes it out of you, and I scroll through the emails on my phone. The cidery is buzzing with the upcoming wedding this weekend, and my staff—and Noah—are keeping me informed every step of the way.
“Did I ever tell you I used to be a fan of yours back in your playing days?”
I look over at Daniel, who is staring at me from his bed, still looking far too pale. “No, but I knew it anyway.”
“How?”
I shrug. “You never gave me a ticket before.”
He laughs. “Yeah, that’s fair.” He closes his eyes once more, exhaling heavily, like even just this short conversation has worn him out. “I’m still a fan, you know.”
“Even with my lead foot?”
“Even with that. My daughter is a fan too. She’s having a hard time with this, but she’s glad you’re here.I’mglad you’re here.”
I’m glad I’m here too,I want to say back, but I don’t.
These last few days, being next to Summer like I’ve been and not being able to touch her, hold her, or tell her that I love her, too, has just about killed me.
