AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But I’m not sure how helpful I’ll really be. Michael doesn’t really need help. He’s the guy who takes care of everything. I might actually be more of a distraction than anything. He’d be worried about if I’d eaten, if I was getting enough rest, if I was too worried about Crew.
But I can see Crew, then go to Decatur, right? I can support them both.
“You don’t have to do that. Go home and be with Crew.” Michael is swiping on his phone, not even looking at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. There.” He shows me his phone. “I just bought a ticket to Decatur from O’Hare. One ticket.”
I barely glance at it, missing the details entirely, troubled by my mixed emotions. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
Michael is the guy who knows best abouteverything. He knows what he needs right now more than I do.
“I’m sure. Nowpleaseget dressed.” He pats my ass lightly, but with enough force that I get moving.
Michael is the quietest of my three boyfriends on any given day, but he’s quiet even for him on the flight back to Chicago. He holds my hand the entire way, absentmindedly stroking my knuckles with his thumb. I don’t know what to say. I’m worried about Clayton. I know things will be better for everyone once Michael’s there. He’s the rock for his mom, dad, and siblings just like he is for us.
“Will you call when you get there?” I ask him quietly. “You know we’ll all want to know how your dad is.”
He looks over at me. “Yes, of course. My flight from Chicago is just a little over an hour and then it will take some time to get to the hospital and get all the information from everyone, but I’ll check in when I can.”
I nod and squeeze his hand. “Please give your dad and mom both a hug from me.”
He nods. “I will.” He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” My throat tightens suddenly. “So much.”
I hate that we’re going in opposite directions. I want to be with him and Crew both. I know Michael doesn’t really need me, but I still want to be there for him. I don’t know what I could possibly do, though. I know nothing about heart attacks except that they’re serious and scary. I know that if my dad had one, I’d be a wreck. I also know I would want my guys right by my side, holding my hand, hugging me, and helping me make decisions.
But Michael isn’t the one who needs people to help him make decisions. He always knows what to do. He’s a doctor. He doesn’t need any of us to tell him that things will be alright. He knows better than any of us if that’s true. Or not.
We’re quiet again. I want to ask him more about what he knows about his dad’s condition, how it all happened, where he was, and what he was doing, how Lorraine is, which of his sisters are there at the hospital, and how they’re doing. But I don’t. Michael needs time to process all of this his way.
Eventually, I fall asleep, resting my head on Michael’s strong, always capable shoulder, grateful for his support and understanding.
We arrive at six in the morning, groggy and bleary-eyed. Michael is uncharacteristically grumpy, squinting at the bright lights and rising sun beating down on us from the atrium.
“It’s so hot in here,” he complains. “This is the dumbest design for an airport. Build a glass box then cram it with thousands of people.” He strips off his sweatshirt.
“Do you want some coffee?” I ask, looking left and right and seeing no sign of any of the shops being open. I spot a coffee shop in the distance but there’s a line of two dozen people in front of it.
“No, thanks, I’m too hot.”
“I can get it iced.”
But Michael shakes his head, staring at his phone. “My flight leaves in an hour and I have to go back out and through security.”
I’m not sure what to say. My brain is still not fully functioning from dozing in and out of sleep. Talking to Crew was a relief, but I’m still worried about his concussion. Once we hit the tarmac, I turned my phone off airplane mode and had six texts pop up, but none were from Crew. Two were from Nathan assuring me again everything is fine and that Crew is sleeping it off, but anxiety is gnawing at the pit of my stomach.
We exit the gate area and once we reach the area where we have to separate, me to pick up our luggage, Michael to catch his next flight, we pause.
“This feels weird,” I tell him.
He reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear. “I know. I hope it’s just for a few days.”
I grasp his wrist, pressing his hand against my face. “Me too. I hope everything is okay and you can come home soon. But I know you need to be there with them. I’ll be thinking about you constantly.”
He cups my face and leans in to kiss me. “Thank you for Vegas,” he says against my lips.
