Page 47 of The Broken Hearts Club

With that, I turned and walked away. And wow, did it feel good.

I ended up doing a few laps around the block to clear my head. That conversation had been unexpected, especially the part where Bruce let me have the last word. He never did that when we were together.

He was still an ass, though. There was always an underlying note of smugness in him, even when he was trying to play nice. Apparently I’d just accepted it as part of the package when we were together, figuring the good in him outweighed the bad—although it really hadn’t.

I didn’t know what to think about this new revelation that he’d dumped me because some rando at work was flirting with him. But then, that wasn’t really what had ended our relationship. If he’d really loved me, he wouldn’t have used that as an excuse to cut and run. Bottom line, he didn’t want me. That was what it all boiled down to.

Even though I understood why he’d dumped me, and even though I was glad it was over, it still left a mark on me. It felt like a betrayal, and it had happened at the hands of the one person I’d trusted more than anyone else. How was I supposed to trust anyone else with my heart, after something like that?

Later that afternoon, the doctor found me in the waiting room to let me know Collie was out of surgery, and that everything had gone according to plan. I was overcome with relief.

It was a few more hours before I was told he was awake, and that I could go see him. Since he was in the ICU, I had to put on a paper robe and a mask and use some hand sanitizer before I was allowed to join Collie in his glass-walled room.

There were a lot more tubes, wires, and monitors now. There was also a large cotton pad on his bare chest, partially covered by his thin blanket. He looked fragile and tiny, and his complexion was ashen. But when he raised his lids and saw me, a big smile spread across his face. “Hey,” he rasped. “Check it out. I’m still alive.”

“I heard it went great.”

He nodded before whispering, “It’s hard to talk because there was a breathing tube down my throat. It felt super gross when they took it out.”

I gently brushed his dark hair back from his forehead. “You don’t need to talk. I’ll just hang out with you for a while, if you want me to.”

Collie nodded again, and I moved a chair beside his bed and took a seat. He slipped his hand out from under the blanket and reached for me, and as I held it in both of mine, he whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too, but they’re going to kick me out pretty soon,” I said. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow though, and every day after that.”

“Do you promise?”

“I do.” I gently squeezed his hand and told him, “I’ve got you, Collie.”

After a few minutes, he started nodding off, and the nurse whispered to me that I should let him get some rest. I was still holding his hand, so I carefully tucked it under the covers.

His eyes fluttered open, and he searched my face as he rasped, “Please don’t forget about me.”

That made my heart ache. “I won’t. You can count on me, Collie.”

He whispered, “Okay,” before letting his eyes slide shut again. It was so hard to leave him there, even though I knew the hospital staff would look after him.

When I got home, the house was utterly quiet. It had been like that for most of the last year, but now it felt strange. I realized I’d gotten used to having Collie around, even in just a few short days. Without him, this place felt lifeless and empty.

I’d come in through the connecting door to the garage, and I felt surprisingly lost as I wandered from room to room. I found the cat sitting by the front door, waiting for Collie to return. I told her, “He’s not coming back tonight,” and she looked at me over her shoulder. I could almost swear that she sighed. Then she went back to staring at the door.

“I get it,” I said softly. “I miss him, too.”

11

Collie

My hospital stay was supposed to last about a week. But it stretched into two, and then three. I’d started battling a fever and some sort of infection soon after my surgery, and it went away and came back twice. They wouldn’t send me home until they were sure it was resolved.

Even though I was climbing the walls, it was probably a good thing that they hadn’t released me yet. I was still healing, and weak as a kitten. It would have been a lot for Miller to try to take care of me in this condition.

I turned my head to look at him and was overcome with gratitude. I’d just woken up from a nap, and he was right there beside me. The poor guy had fallen asleep sitting upright in a chair, not for the first time.

He’d come to the hospital every single day since I’d been here. These weren’t quick little visits, either. He stayed for hours, day after day. Sometimes when I was resting, he brought his drawing tablet and tried to work. When I was awake, we played cards, watched Netflix, or had long, meandering conversations about whatever random subject came to mind.

I couldn’t begin to tell him what all of this meant to me. He was the only thing that made my hospital stay bearable.

Just then, he woke up with a half snore-half snort, which made me smile. When he noticed my untouched lunch sitting on the table, he asked, “Want me to get you a smoothie from the cafeteria?” I had almost no appetite, and they were just about the only thing I could tolerate.