“There’s nothing you can do, Ella. Nothing anyone can do.”
She sits there for a moment, and I can feel her trying to figure out what to say. How to reach me. But there’s no reaching me right now. I’m at the bottom of a pit so deep I can’t even see a speck of light anymore.
“Okay,” she finally says, holding back tears. “I understand. I just...I wanted you to know I’m here. If you need anything.”
I don’t respond. I just keep staring at that brown stain on her dress, counting the seconds until she leaves.
She shifts on the bed, making it creak again, then opens her mouth like she’s going to say something else before closing it.
“I should probably let you rest.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
She stands and smooths her hands down her wrinkled dress, hovering there beside the bed like she’s waiting for me to say something. To tell her to stay. To apologize for being an asshole.
I don’t.
“I’ll check on you later,” she says quietly. “Or tomorrow. Whenever you?—”
A sharp knock on the door cuts her off. Two people walk in without waiting for a response, my nurse carrying a tablet and an aide holding a food tray.
“How are you feeling, Knox?” the nurse asks, tapping her iPad. “I need to do your vitals and run through a few things before you’re discharged. You’ll be released this evening if everything checks out.”
“Released already?” I ask, not sure how I feel. On one hand, I want to get the fuck out of here and sleep in my own bed, but once I’m out, I have to face it all. And Sawyer…she won’t be down the hall anymore.
The aide sets the tray on the rolling table, and the smell of whatever’s under the lid makes my stomach turn.
Ella takes a step back from the bed. “I’ll let you all get to work. See you later, Knox.”
The nurse is already at my bedside, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Yes, that would be best.”
She glances at me one more time before walking out the door.
“Thank you,” I mutter to my nurse.
She smiles. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I can read a room like a children’s book.”
“And my book said?” I ask as she records my blood pressure reading.
“That you very much wanted space.”
I let out a low laugh, instantly regretting it when the pain hits. My nurse notices that too. “Eat your lunch and I’ll be back in a bit with your pain meds. It’s just about that time.”
She wheels the table to my bedside and lifts the lid. Whatever mystery meat is on there is smothered in a globular gravy the color of mud. She refills my ice water and sets it next to the plate, peering at the meal. “Oh, it’s the Salisbury steak today. My condolences.”
With a pat to my shoulder, she leaves me to pick at the side of instant mashed potatoes while my thoughts pull right back to Sawyer.
I manage three bites before giving up. They taste like glue, and every swallow feels like I’m choking on cardboard. I push the tray away and reach for the water instead, drinking half the cup in one go.
The beeping from the machines is the only sound in the room and I focus on that instead of the pain.
Pushing the tray away, I lie back and turn my head toward the wall. Back to those thirty-seven imperfections I’ve memorized. Counting them keeps my mind occupied, pattern recognition usually calms me. But it can’t keep me from thinking about her face when I destroyed her. Or stop me from wondering if she’s still in her room down the hall or if they’ve already discharged her too. God, I want to rip off these wires and go find her.
But I count instead, letting thoughts of Sawyer play relentlessly in my mind. Is she eating? Is she alone? Is she crying? Does she hate me now?
She should. God, she should hate me for what I said to her. For how I looked at her like she was nothing when she’severything. When she’s been everything since we were kids building forts in the backyard and playing in the lake and fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut and force the memories back down.
