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Lex rolls his lips between his teeth. “That will take days.”
“Let’s see what we can manage in a few hours.”
His eyebrows rise and I feel something akin to excitement move through me.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
* * *
It takes much longer than anticipated, mostly because Lex keeps looking up the rules and we end up in endless discussions. We don’t even finish the campaign but I’m thankful for the distraction. When he finally leaves and I make my way up to Skylar, my mood sours once again.
When I crawl in next to him, hearing that horrendous beeping in the room, I place my hand over his chest and try to fall asleep but end up plagued with doubts instead.
What if he never wakes up?
What if I lose him?
I don’t even know him that well and don’t even really like him…I hate him. But here I am, pressed up against him, feeling like my heart is going to fall out of my stomach because he’s not waking up.
“Wake up, you stupid shit,” I mutter, hearing my voice crack. “I need you to wake up.”
He doesn’t respond, just that incessant beeping. I plug my ears, turning into him and listening to the roar in my ears.
This will end soon. It won’t last forever. He will wake up tomorrow.
That chant sits in my head, on a loop over and over until I find myself drifting off.
And when I wake he’s still not opening his eyes, and I feel my spirits sink even further.
Perhaps the short time we had together was all we will have.
Perhaps that’s all I’ll get.
* * *
The week drags on, no changes in Skylar, and yet a thousand changes in me. I’ve lost my motherfucking mind at this point. When I’m not cutting shit up, I’m at Skylar’s side, watching that infernal machine beep over and over again, telling me that he’s alive but still not present with me.
His sister and mother seem more and more tired with each passing day, and the guilt—something I’ve never experienced in my entire time—is almost consuming.
What a way to make a first impression with the in-laws.
Hello, I’m Diablo. He was nearly killed because of me.
Not the best of terms and yet, they’re lovely—his mother so soft and kind, his sister showing her fierce sense of humor. They were reluctant to show it the first few days, but they’ve come around, reaching out to me, letting me sit in the room with them, chatting with me when possible.
“When Skylar was in high school he played football…” I sit up a little further in my chair as I listen. I’m learning so much about him just being around these two. Bits and pieces of his past that he’s never shared with me before. “He was a linebacker.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yeah, I don’t know how that boy came out of me. His father was a big guy too but not as big as Skylar.”
I eye Skylar, his body looking less bulky these days. Perhaps it’s the hospital gown, or the sallow lighting. But in this moment, he seems so fragile.
“Anyways…” his mom goes on with the story, telling us about the times he won championships, the way he always rooted for the underdog. And then she moves on to his sweethearts in school, the girls he brought home and something green and ugly rears its head.
Mine. No. He’s mine.
Thankfully the reverie doesn’t last long and she moves on to telling me about his times in the Marines, his medals, and how he was commended.
