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“I’ve known you since you were born. Iknowyou. And you are annoying as fuck, but that doesn’t make me love you any less.” I laugh when she glares in my direction. “You need to give us a chance, Kyla,” I tell her.
She chews on her bottom lip. I know she wants this as much as I do. She’s just afraid.
“Let me take you on a date. I’ll pick you up… Friday,” I say.
“Friday? Lorenzo, you’re in the hospital!”
“I’ll be out of here tonight. It’s just a few scratches. I’m fine,” I insist.
“And broken ribs,” she reminds me.
“Internalscratches.”
“Okay, Friday, but I’ll meet you. Do not come to the house, Lorenzo. My dad is blowing a casket as it is, because I was a little over the top when I thought you were dead,” she says.
“Over the top how?”
“I screamed bloody murder… I might have called your father, and I might have been a little upset.”
“So, you love me a lot then, huh?”
“You’re an idiot.” She laughs.
“Maybe, but I’m your idiot.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down at her.
The door opens and Kyla drops my hand, taking a step back as my mother and father enter the room again. “I, ah, I have to go, but I’m glad you’re okay,” she says, then practically runs out the door.
“Is everything all right?” Mom asks me.
“Yep. Can I go home now?”
“Sure, if you can get up and walk,” Pops says.
I accept the challenge and slowly pull myself up, breathing through the pain. I’m not sitting in this fucking hospital all night. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I brace myself on the rails. It takes a bit, but I manage to get there.
“Lorenzo, you should stay. You’re in pain,” Mom says.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “See?” I clench my teeth into what I hope looks like a smile as I slowly rise to my feet. “Let’s go.”
“You gonna walk out in that? I can see your ass,” Dad says, pointing at the hospital gown I just now realize I’m wearing.
I look around the room. I don’t see the clothes I had on earlier today. “Seems like it. At least it’s a good ass to look at,” I tell him.
“Fucking hell. Wait here,” Mom growls and walks out of the room, returning a few minutes later with a bag. I take it from her hands and pull out a pair of sweats. “Need help?” she asks me.
“Ah, no, I’m good,” I tell her. I do not need my mother to help me get dressed.
“You do know I’m your mother, right?” she says, as if reading my mind.
Then she takes the sweats out of my hands and bends down. She lifts one of my feet off the ground, guiding it through the pant leg, and then repeats the process with the other side. She lifts them up, under the hospital gown until the band is at my waist.
“Thanks, Ma.” I nod, dropping the hospital gown to the floor as I pull out a shirt. It’s fucking painful but I manage to tug it over my head. Mom places a pair of slides in front of me. I slip my feet inside them as I pick up the bag. “Let’s go home. I fucking hate hospitals.”
“You and me both,” Mom says, taking hold of my arm. “You can lean on me if you need to.”
“I’m not putting my weight on you, Ma,” I tell her. She doesn’t let go of my arm though.
ChapterNineteen
