Page 17 of Freddie

“I can do it. I was just going home to cold Chinese food, anyway.” She nods, pointing me toward an orderly who will give me everything I need to take to the guys’ room.

Hands full, I elbow the door handle and fumble through it. They dimmed the lights, and the scent of antiseptic floats through the cool air. Quietly I pad across towards him to place the spare gown, bottled water and other amenities down on the table by the bed. I unfold the blanket and put it across the bottom of the bed for him to reach if he needs it, and just as I’m turning to leave, my steps falter when I glimpse at the patient’s face in front of me.

His face on one side is completely black and blue; it’s all scratched up too, with the eyebrow on the other side sporting fresh stitches. His left arm is in a sling. I look the rest of him over, but with the sheet covering him, I can’t see any other injuries. His eyes are closed but squeezed too tightly, almost as if he’s in pain or having a bad dream.

I take a couple of deep breaths to centre myself. I mean, what are the chances? How on earth is he here?

Why is my big honey bear broken and lying in hospital alone at Christmas?

Chapter 19

Freddie

The surreal story that is becoming my life. I’m not sure how many crazy coincidences this is, but I discovered Simmons, my Simmons, well maybe not mine but the one I saved in my phone as Big Honey Bear, has been admitted to the hospital where I’m volunteering.

A car crash. He was alone and might have died if he hadn’t been so close to a hospital when it happened. Some dickhead was doing 60mph in a 30mph zone, ran a red light and smashed Simmons’ fancy sleek car, rendering him unconscious, hurt and lying on the bed here in front of me.

I’ve inched away from his sleeping body, lingering now by the door. Chloe checked on him and gave me the rundown of what happened. Technicians sent off blood work and scanned him for internal bleeding or damage. Currently though, he just looks beat up a little with a broken wrist.

Unsure what to do, my feet decide for me, and I stay rooted in place, watching his chest puff up and down.

I wonder where he was heading; it wasn’t late out, but the sun had gone down and rush hour traffic was long gone. Maybe to his family's home or a boyfriend’s. Maybe a girlfriend’s even or their family's home for the holidays. Maybe I shouldn’t be here, hovering over him in case a loved one arrives and questions who I am.

But I never said I was a saint. I want to see his brown eyes again; I want to know he is okay, and a selfish part of me wants to help him get better so I can see more of him. We had one hookup months ago that led nowhere except a few texts here and there. Looking at my coat I’ve been clutching onto, I sigh. I should leave and head to my apartment.

My Christmas tree will get lonely without me (even though it’s still in the box). I chew on my bottom lip, which reminds me I need to buy more lip balm. The winter always dries them out; the anxiety of chewing them probably doesn’t help either.

Lying there peacefully, the clinical sound of machines beeping around us, his muscular forearm, not in the sling, with all that dark hair lays beside his torso. The silver bracelets he wore when he wanked me off still adorn his thick wrist. I watch him some more, debating whether to cross over into the room and make myself known once he wakes up.

Would he even want to see me? We didn’t leave things badly, but we missed our chance that night of the expo, and I’m not sure there would be room for me in his life. I was only ever going to be a casual hookup for him anyway.

But what if it turned out he was alone? Wouldn’t I want a friendly face when I woke up from a car crash that knocked me out? As I try to justify my need to stay, a different nurse comes in and tells me I need to leave. Chloe must have gone home, which means I no longer have permission to be in here because I’m not family.

Okay, enough is enough. I put my coat back on, lying to myself that I won’t come back and check on him. If I did, it would only be to make sure he wasn’t alone. I would do that for any of the patients I see on their own. God, I’m a shit liar, can’t even do it to myself. Shaking my head at my ridiculousness, I look one last time over at Simmons.

He’s staring back at me. A look of confusion crossed over his face as he stares at me so intensely that I think he might be trying to send me telepathic thoughts. The new nurse moves into view and gives me a wide-eyed time for you to fuck off look before throwing the curtain closed. That’s the final push that has me legging it out of there.

Chapter 20

Simmons

The car accident was so sudden that I have no idea where I am when the beeping beside my head startles me awake.

“Fuck,” I groan. Opening my eyes, they feel crusty and my sight is bleary.

A soft touch on my shoulder has been turning my head, which feels full of cotton and foggy. A red-headed, short woman in scrubs is looking at me with concern. I blink a few times, noticing my tongue feels rough and swollen in my mouth. When was the last time I drank something? The woman is talking, but I barely register, still wondering why everything hurts, especially my wrist and forearm.

Movement from the corner of my eye makes me look up. I’m so disoriented that I take a moment to see that it’s a man by the door. At first, I think it’s another person in scrubs, having deduced from the clinical smell and outfits that I’ve woke up in a hospital. But, no.

I blink more, trying to swallow, then when my eyesight feels normal again I look at the door. Is that…? No, it can’t be.

For one, I don’t think he lives in the same city that I do, and second, why would he even be here? We barely know each other.

Those eyes, though. They seek mine and my heart pulses in my chest so loudly I swear I can hear it over that irritating beeping. He stares back, but only briefly. A curtain flies closed and shuts him out, so I tilt my head to see around it, but I can’t see anything but a sea of blue material.

The nurse notices and comes over, opening the water on the side table and passing it to me with a straw. I thank her and take small sips. I groan with relief as the icy cold water wets my tongue and soothes my throat immediately. She slowly explains to me what happened.

A crash, the speeding driver flew through a red light and hit my side. I vaguely remember the feeling of being thrown, but that’s it. The severe knockout must have caused me to miss the rest and wake up here several hours later.