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As he inhaled deeply, antiseptic scent filled Donovan’s lungs. “I’m not too sure about that. A lot has happened in the last six hours.”
“Nothing life-altering.”
“British was in a car accident.” Donovan cocked his head to the side.
Levi lifted his finger. “Almost.”
Whether or not the car accident hurt British, harm had come to her and Donovan shouldered the blame. Did she drive while tired? Was she distracted because of him and that’s why she wrecked?
“The question is,” Levi continued, “what are you going to do about it now?”
“I want to see her.”
Levi patted Donovan’s back again. “That’s what I thought. C’mon.”
The door to British’s room swept open with a soft hush. The Woodburys all looked up at Donovan when he entered the room. The heels of his loafers hitting the ground echoed to the beep of the machine monitoring British’s heartbeat. His heartbeat. The peaks of the machine perked up when she laid eyes on him. Once again a lump formed in his throat. He barely heard Levi usher everyone else out of the room. He just felt the gust of wind as they left on his face and then again on the back of his neck when the door closed behind him.
A white bandage covered British’s long left leg. Another bandage covered the top portion of her head and the middle of her forehead. Donovan closed his eyes. The memory of his accident, from the moment he pumped the brakes one rainy night, came back to him. He touched his cheek and remembered the blood flowing from the open wound on his face. Knowing this had happened to British broke him. He came to her bedside, kneeling automatically. Their hands touched. A plastic monitor clasped down on her index finger. Donovan kissed her fingertips.
“I’m so sorry.” He repeated his words over and over, begging her to forgive him.
“This isn’t your fault,” British said groggily. “You didn’t have to come here.”
If his body were a cartoon right now, his heart would be shattering. This fight wasn’t over. He wasn’t leaving. “I love you, British,” he professed. “I know you saw a side of me tonight that may have you doubting me. But I’m not that guy I was before. You’re everything I never knew I needed in life, British. I need you to understand me. I need you to believe me. I need you to love me.”
No matter what anyone told him, he would always feel responsible for this. He pressed his head against the mattress of her bed and did something he hadn’t done in a long time. He wept at the realization he could have lost her tonight. He wasn’t sure how long he lay like that at her side but after some time, after his knees took the shape of the floor beneath him, British pulled her hand from his, resting it on the top of his head.
“I love you, too.”
Chapter 12
Three days in the hospital and a week at home after, British was ready to get back to work. But the doctor insisted on her keeping a light schedule, including not being allowed to attend the Four Points STEM competition.
No matter how much British tried to prove she was fine to walk with a cane, Donovan wasn’t hearing it. He made himself at home and in her bed, never allowing her to lift a finger for a thing. If he needed to leave for a few hours, he made sure someone stayed with her and kept her off social media. Donovan hired Dr. Erin Hairston, a former resident of Southwood and sworn childhood enemy of Kenzie’s, despite the fact they were first cousins.
With Christmas right around the corner, British began to believe Donovan wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and she was okay with that. He seemed to enjoy the mundane duties of day-to-day life, including Christmas tree decorating, which they finally finished last night.
After several arguments of which was better, a multicolorful ornaments and lights tree or one with white lights and matching decorations, British let him take the win. If he loved it, she loved it. The gaudy, overly decorated tree stood in the corner of her living room. Get-well cards and holiday cards mingled on the mantel of the fireplace. Perfectly placed wreaths hung from the four bay windows. And the counters of her kitchen bar were lined with red garlands.
“Well, you have to be excited about tonight,” Kenzie said, standing behind British in her bedroom at her tri-mirrored vanity.
Thanks to the same group effort of putting the New Edition posters up on her wall, part of the Tiara Squad had helped to take it down and repaint. She no longer needed to hang on to her past when her future with Donovan was blossoming. Maggie sat on British’s cloth-covered new California king bed and pouted. She adjusted the straps of her denim overalls, which were covered in drops of mint and silver paint from this morning.
“What’s wrong with you?” British asked, turning her head just enough she didn’t mess up the French twist Kenzie attempted to put in her hair.
Maggie shook her head. “I’ve clearly been in small-town life so long that I am looking forward to living vicariously through you attending a school dance tonight.”
Kenzie cursed when she lost the third bobby pin somewhere in British’s hair. “Damn it. Explain to me why your boyfriend won’t hire a stylist?”
“Something about not trusting anyone with access to the internet.” British laughed when she and Kenzie both glanced back over at Maggie.
As if surprised, Maggie’s mouth dropped open. “What? I’ve been disconnected for, like, three months now.”
“You should win an award,” Kenzie bemoaned with an eye-roll.
“Or at least a man,” Maggie mumbled.
A soft knock came at the door. Erin poked her head inside and Kenzie tugged a little tighter on British’s hair. “Donovan’s here.”
