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Her grandma rushes over, grabbing Torryn’s hand. “Baylor’s right,” she soothes. “Nothing is your fault. I should have protected you better.”
“I told my mom,” she whispers in her hoarse and broken voice. “I wasn’t supposed to. He killed her because I told.”
New tears stream down her grandma’s face and she apologizes again, but I think Torryn finally hit the end of her rope. She closes her eyes and this time I don’t think she has the strength or energy to open them back up.
thirty-eight
EMOTIONAL SUPPORT CATS
When I wake up, the first thing I notice is that I'm not as warm as I was throughout the night.
It takes only a moment to realize Baylor no longer has his body wrapped around mine. All night, every time I woke up, he was there. Holding me together. It really did make me feel safer, more protected. Like the temperature in the hospital room couldn’t touch me with him here.
I lay silently, with my eyes closed. Not wanting to face the nightmare I left behind. Not wanting to be alone.
My mind is still reeling from everything my grandma told me. Years of repressed trauma and lies I have to disentangle and a fuzz around even my most simple thoughts that makes it hard to think about any of it.
“It’s only us here, baby,” Baylor whispers with an edge of amusement and I feel him grab my hand. I scrunch my face and he laughs.
I open my eyes slowly, worried the light is going to feel like it’s piercing my skull. A sigh of relief escapes me as I crack them open to find the blinds drawn and the lights dimmed. I blink slowly, adjusting until I can keep my eyes open with no pain andfind him sitting at the side of my bed in the chair my grandma was in yesterday.
Clearing my throat, I try to speak but only a croak comes out. Baylor reaches to the side and grabs a cup of water and lifts the straw to my lips. “How’d you sleep?” he asks after I take several small swallows. The cool liquid is soothing on my aching throat. It hurts. But not as much as I was worried it would.
“Okay,” I answer honestly. There was a lot of in and out. A lot of waking me up and checking my vitals. But at least there were no nightmares. “You stayed.”
His fingers trace patterns up and down my arm. “Of course I stayed.” His smile eases some of the pain from yesterday, soothes the jagged edges caused by loneliness. He stayed. My lips twitch, choosing to push away the heavy stuff. I can’t focus on it today. Can’t bear anymore bombshells or having to dissect how I feel about any of it.
“‘Cause you’re my boyfriend?” I tease. There’s been no chance to bring it up in the chaos, but he had to know I wasn’t just going to let it go.
His cheeks heat and he holds my hand firmly, his expression serious when he answers. “Yeah.” He nods to himself, as if he needs the encouragement. “Yeah, I am your boyfriend. And I’m not asking you, I’m telling you because you’re stuck with me, Ryn. I’m not giving you the chance to say no or to push me away, because I haven’t fucking recovered from almost losing you yesterday. I have never felt such fear in my life and it made me realize I don’t know how to live without you anymore. And I don’t ever want to find out. So yeah, I am your fucking boyfriend and you are just going to have to get used to that.” Warmth grows in my chest with every word. I can’t imagine my life without Baylor either. I don’t know if I would have been able to make it through the last twenty-four hours without him at my side.
The door bursts open before I can even respond, a disheveled Beau staring at us in shock and disappointment. “Baylor Levine,” he laments. “You had the chance to fix what you blew yesterday and you say that?” he asks, gesturing to where I’m laying in the bed. “We had a plan, man. A damn good plan. And instead you just tell her? Just demand that you're her boyfriend.” He shakes his head in disappointment and disgust.
For the first time, I notice the others that came in behind Beau. This time they don’t stop him but let him rant. “Where is the romance?” he continues, glaring at Baylor. “The class? The rizz? Where is the fucking plan, man?”
Baylor looks bored as he stares at James and Wells at Beau’s sides. “No one’s going to gag him today?”
They both shrug. “He kind of has a point,” Wells agrees.
Isla pushes past him. “Okay he cried about it, now get out of my way. It’s my turn.” Her eyes are red and puffy, her hair unwashed and thrown up into a messy bun, and I just know she was in the waiting room probably all night waiting to see me. She carries her purse carefully to the side of my bed, before gently placing it in my lap.
Confused, I pick it up, but then I hear it. “You didn’t,” I laugh, just as Potato sticks his little head out of her purse, meowing when he sees me. For some reason, seeing his little pink nose and whiskers bring fresh tears to my eyes. “Come here, baby.” He meows again as I pick him up out of her purse and cuddle him to my chest. He vibrates so loud, it makes everyone laugh. He’s louder than some of these machines.
Baylor scratches behind his ear. “Root Veggie, my mans. I bet Karma is just pissed.”
Isla looks around, wiping under her eyes in an attempt to hide her tears from me. “Where’d Emery go?”
Beau turns to look around and sees it’s just the four of them that came in here. He holds up a finger and sticks his head outthe door. I can’t hear what he says, but only a moment later more people fill the room. Emery comes in first with another oversized purse being carried too close to her chest to seem natural and I can’t hide the smirk. Tate and Xander come in behind her with flowers and balloons.
“She’s a feisty one,” Emery jokes as she hands the purse to Baylor, her eyes flashing with amusement as she glances back at Xander. I study him again and notice scratch marks on his arms that won’t be there tomorrow.
I arch a brow at him. “Guess I wasn’t the only one who got my ass kicked this week.”
Isla puts her face in her hands, shaking her head at me. Beau and Baylor snort, while James and Wells look horrified that they actually laughed at that. Tate rolls his eyes and Emery tries to suppress her smile as she waits for Xander’s response.
He points at me. “Sick and twisted.”
“Don’t be bitter because I put up a better fight than you did.”
