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Our eyes met, and I couldn't move. The ice cream dripped off its spoon onto my wrist until Jane took it from me and set it down on the tray. She glanced between the two of us, then stood up.
"I'll just go track down your fam, Sky," she said. "Unless you want me to..."
"No," I said, still locked in a game of owl with the exhausted blond giant in my doorway. "It's fine."
With another brief glance at me, Jane slipped out. As she slid between Brandon and the doorframe, she muttered, "Be nice," and left.
Brandon swallowed, the movement rippling through the tensed muscles in his neck.
"Hi," I said meekly.
I pushed the rotating tray to the side and grabbed for the blankets over my legs, clutching them in my hands. I didn't know what to say. He was here. He had apparently been here the entire time. And yet, other than the few words we'd shared before the ambulance arrived, the last meaningful conversation we'd had was when he'd discovered that I'd not only aborted our child three months ago, but I'd also hidden it from him. He'd told me to leave. And I had, thinking I had lost him for good.
But now he was here. And he had said we loved each other. So, where did that leave us?
Brandon walked silently into the room and took Jane's seat. I would have been encouraged that he had sat down next to me, but it was the only chair in the room.
"You look tired," I said lamely.
Brandon gave me a dark blue look that basically said, "No shit, Sherlock."
I gave a small smile. It wasn't returned either, but Brandon's mouth twitched a little at the corners. He turned his Red Sox hat backwards and rubbed both hands over his face.
"I am," he said finally and sighed, long and hard. "Today I feel a lot older than thirty-seven, Red. But I'm glad you're awake again."
"I'm sorry," I said in a small voice, but with a heavy heart.
"You're sorry?" Brandon's voice was incredulous. "You're sorry?" His eyes turned to me, wet and wide. "Look at you, baby."
I reached up gingerly to touch my face, unsure exactly what he was talking about. I winced a little when I pressed on my cracked cheekbone. I figured there was probably some bruising along with the cut on my eye. But still, I could open both eyes again, so it couldn't be as bad as before.
"Got a mirror?" I asked.
Brandon rubbed the back of his neck, like he didn't want to answer the question. Reluctantly, he reached to his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, then turned it to the selfie camera and handed it to me.
My breath choked in my throat again as I saw what he saw.
It wasn't pretty. I wasn't bloody anymore, and the nasty cut on my eyebrow had been sewn up, leaving only a thin red line. When Brandon had picked me up, my face had been swollen with a nasty black eye and a gash, but now it was a mess of multi-colored bruises in various stages of healing. Shades of purple, blue, black, yellow, and orange colored my freckled skin in a nasty mosaic that spread down my neck and shoulders too. The worst were still dark purple––over my right eye and cheekbone. I touched the area again, wondering where the crack was.
I didn't even want to look at the rest of my body. My ribs, where I had been kicked. My thighs, which had been wrenched apart. The ankle that was still sore after Messina had dragged me into his car and into that dank room. Thank God Brandon had arrived when he did, because the thought of what would have happened otherwise took my breath away.
"It's not that bad," I said weakly as I handed back his phone.
"Not that bad?"
"What are you, a parrot? Stop copying everything I say."
At that, Brandon barked out a harsh laugh and wiped the tears out of his eyes. "Christ," he said through a few more chuckles. "Fuckin' parrot. Well, at least I know you're still you, Red."
The nickname was heartening. Maybe there was a silver lining to the shape I was in. If taking a beating would mean I had a chance to earn back Brandon's heart, I'd take it ten times over again.
"Brandon," I said, surprised by how creaky my voice became.
He looked up, blue eyes deep, oceanic. The crinkles at the corners were more pronounced than usual, and there were deep shadows underneath them.
"I am sorry," I said softly. "For...you know."
His eyes grew even wider, so deep I thought I could dive into them. They started to water again at the end of our stare-off, when finally Brandon broke away with a quick swipe.
