Page 71 of Quiver

She bit her tongue, literally, and kicked herself for wanting to have this conversation so badly earlier today, because she definitely didn’t want to do it here with an audience.

“I tried not to call you Kye anymore, but I slipped a few times.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is it?” Fletcher appeared to ponder the possibility, but then remembered something else. “Hey, Ava said you were nice to her, but were you really?”

“As nice as I could be.”

She laughed, then grimaced slightly. “I doubt it. You’re rarely as nice as you can be, but that’s okay. We’re not nice girls, are we?”

“Not usually,” she admitted, equal parts amused and dreading where this line of thinking might lead. “We haven’t been very nice to each other lately.”

“Lately?” Fletcher scoffed. “Not for a long time. And since you came back, you haven’t been nice to anyone, but it’s okay. I love you anyway.”

She gasped and felt almost certain either Bex or Ava had done the same, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Fletcher long enough to see which.

“What?” Fletcher arched her eyebrows. “I’ve always loved you. I never stopped loving you.”

Kylie’s fingers found Fletcher’s on the bed and intertwined them with her own, squeezing rather than speaking.

Fletcher frowned. “It’s true, but isn’t it stupid?”

“That you love me?” She squeaked on the l-word.

“Yeah.”

She ran her other hand through Fletcher’s curls and tugged enough to pull her head back a little, then stared into her eyes, before choking out, “So stupid.”

Fletcher grinned up at her, and her own smile stretched so it hurt her face. They stayed there staring goofily at each other. “We are both so stupid.”

Fletcher felt like shit. Even before she opened her eyes, she knew it would hurt. She remembered where she was and what had happened, but she couldn’t make sense of why her head would be filled with cotton. Shouldn’t that stuff be reserved for the wound? She didn’t like feeling dull or out of control. She would’ve preferred the pain. At least she had plenty of practice with hurting, and in a wide variety of ways, so she forced her eyelids apart.

It took a second for the haze of sleep and medicine to burn away, and another few to find the ability to focus, but when she did, the first thing she homed in on was Kylie’s sleeping form curled up in one of the hospital chairs.

She was stunning like that, more so than she’d ever been on any movie screen. Even the dark circles under her closed eyes only managed to make her skin seem creamier than usual.

Fletcher suffered a pang of something akin to regret for a myriad of things she’d said and done over the last few weeks, and maybe even things she’d done at other times, but none quite so acute as the remorse that she hadn’t allowed them to linger in the hayloft. What would’ve been the harm in holding her? After everything else they’d done, it’s not like she could pretend a few moments of Kylie’s cheek resting on her chest would’ve dug them any deeper. Was there even such a thing as deeper when it came to the two of them, or had they been living at rock bottom so long they didn’t even recognize it anymore?

She sighed and remembered the way she’d anchored herself to Kylie. Amid the pain and the fear and the sensation she might float away or drown, she’d reached for her. Something inside her had broken in those moments, something sharper than the arrow and embedded more completely. There weren’t enough stitches in the world to cover that hole, and she’d have to drink herself all the way to death to numb those pains. She’d done such a good job of keeping herself from the full realization that had filled her yesterday, but now they’d overtaken her, and she wasn’t sure she had the fortitude to ignore what she’d seen so plainly. Stubborn was one thing, willful ignorance another, and she’d never played an utter idiot for anyone, not even herself.

So what the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Knock, knock.” Bex said the words rather than actually knocking on the semi-open door, and Kylie stirred across the room. At some point she’d changed into a clean set of scrubs. The top rode up and revealed her stomach as she stretched awake, and Fletcher’s mouth went dry in a way that had nothing to do with the medicine or loss of blood. Then again, all of the blood in her body did seem to head south as Kylie rose and it became clear she was no longer wearing a bra.

“How you feeling this morning?” Bex asked.

“Fantastic,” Fletcher answered honestly, then remembered the puncture wound in her side. “I mean, all things considered.”

“Great. The nurses say your temperature remained steady all night, and you’ve been cleared to move up to Jell-O and juice this morning, you lucky dog.”

“I’m living the dream.”

“What about you?” Bex turned to Kylie. “Have you eaten anything?”

“I got some chips from the vending machine around three o’clock this morning.”

“The breakfast of champions,” Bex agreed. “Let me take a peek under the bandage, and if things look good, I’ll see if I can find a doctor to spring you from this joint later today.”