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I inhale sharply, pointing toward the elevator. “You can get the fuck out of my house now.”
Chapter thirty-three
Thefirstweekofbroken ribs is always the worst.
I’ve been repeating that reminder in my head all week as my ribs scream in agony with each breath I take and I aggravated them when I yelled at my dad. I’ve been debating giving in and taking the pain meds, but then I remember that the first week of broken ribs is always the worst.
Despite the pain, I force myself to take deep, intentional breaths. I have to keep my lungs clear. I inhale slowly, squeezing my eyes shut as I prepare for a long and slow exhale.
Everything fucking burns. And it’s even worse now that I yelled at my dad. I cannot believe he showed up with Luke. I’m infuriated to say the least. A part of me was hoping he’d been there to seek amends, to apologize for everything.
And then he continued. He didn’t show any remorse. He didn’t show sympathy for my injuries. He just wanted to blame me for the disappearance of Jason.
And there’s so much I want to unpack there. Is he dead? What the fuck is going on, but I can’t because I just don’t have the energy.
Cal’s footsteps sound the room as he shuffles toward the bed. I don’t bother to open my eyes or roll over to see him. I’m lying on my good side, back turned away.
″They’re gone,” he says.
″Thank you.”
″How are you feeling?”
″Horrible.”
I hold in the tears because reliving the scene of puncturing Drake’s carotid artery with a kitchen knife is something I cannot process right now. I’m shutting Cal out because dealing with him right now is something I cannot fucking handle.
″Brought you some tea,” he says. “It’s on the nightstand.”
″I can’t sit up,” I whisper. “Can you help?”
″Let me get you something for the pain.”
″No.”
″One round of Vicodin or something won’t get you addicted.”
″I won’t be like my mother. I’ll be just fine.”
″Surely yelling at your father exasperated things. How can I ease the pain for you, love?”
″I could use some ice and acetaminophen?”
″Sure.”
He disappears and I manage to drift to sleep in the small amount of time before he returns. The bed dips when he sits on the edge, his hand running along my back gently. I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, the exhaustion deep inside my bones.
He lifts my shirt, placing a rolled towel filled with ice against my bruised skin. “Here.” His voice is a whisper as he places his hand toward my mouth. When I open it, he places the pills on my tongue, then gives me a cup with a straw.
He strokes my hair as I drink and when I’m finished, pulls the cup away.
With my eyes still closed, he sits and plays with my hair until my body feels numb and my eyelids go heavy.
When he thinks I’m asleep, he presses a kiss to my ear. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there.”
The dip from where he’d been sitting moves, then he is gone.
My head still pounds, and the demons are extremely present as I toss and turn throughout the night.
