24. Woody

24

WOODY

I checked my phone.

Rowdy: Stevie’s been given a sedative, so we’re dragging Emery across the street to Roadhouse for a quick dinner. Can I grab you anything?

Rowdy: Would hate to save your life and then have you die of awful hospital food.

I chuckled as an idea took hold.

Me: All the rolls you can stuff into your pockets and a chopped salad. With salmon, if they’ve got it.

Rowdy: Literally going to a steakhouse and you order the fish.

Me: . . .

Rowdy: Fine, but only because you’re pathetic and in the hospital.

Me: Thank you.

My room overlooked the parking lot, so I got out of bed and peered out the window. I was relieved to confirm that Emery and his mother were joining Rowdy. I hadn’t been able to put my eyes on Stevie since I passed out at the house, but now I had a brief window of time to check in on her, see for myself that she was okay.

If I could get out of this damned room, that is.

I sat up in bed and swiveled, grounding my feet as I let the dizziness pass.

The grippy socks made sense, given that I almost fell the second I stood up. I was a little more stubborn than that, though, so after a few minutes, I attempted to stand again. Even though I was a bit wobbly, I made it to my feet. I also had to pee like a motherfucker, so I started walking toward the bathroom, cursing at the painful tug of the IV going into my arm.

Ouch.

I gently untangled things and walked with my IV pole into the bathroom, my ass hanging out of my hospital gown. I made the mistake of looking in the mirror and stopped dead in my tracks.

I was staring at my father’s face, looking like I’d gone puffy and mottled from alcohol rather than a swarm of bees.

Nurse McHottie said I could take a shower when I felt up to it, though he told me to ring for help.

No fucking way I was doing that.

I instead turned on the faucet in the sink and carefully worked the gown over the IV and left it hanging from the pole as the water heated up. Standing there naked, save for the grippy socks, I grabbed the no-rinse shampoo and ran the foam through my hair. After, I gave my crevices a cursory soaping, not trusting myself to bend over just yet. I marveled at the white flecks of paint still under my fingernails as I ran the washcloth under the water.

Had everything really just happened this morning?

After another once-over with the washcloth, I sorta dried myself with a hand towel, then leaned against the counter, needing a second to catch my breath. Once the dizziness passed, I found the overnight bag Rowdy brought for me and put on my sweats, deciding that underwear was not the hill I was willing to die on.

Similarly, the idea of figuring out how to put on my T-shirt with this damned thing attached to me was more than I could bear, so I went shirtless and silently thanked Rowdy for adding my slides to the mix. I dropped those to the floor and stepped into them, then opened the door to my room. Nurse McHottie looked up from the central desk.

“Making a break for it?”

I shook my head, then gripped the doorframe until the hallway stopped spinning. “Just wanna see Stevie McAvoy. Might need some help,” I said, scowling at the thought of needing anyone’s help, even though the simple wash had drained the last reserves of energy I possessed.

He grinned at the gown tangled up on the pole. “Is Stevie the little girl you saved?”

“Yeah.”

“I gotchu. Lemme grab a wheelchair, help you put on some more clothes, and I’ll take you to her. She’s just one floor down.”

I wanted to protest the wheelchair, but there was no way I could make the walk to the elevator, let alone to her room.

“Thanks. Appreciate it,” I muttered.

He sent me a wink, then grabbed one of the chairs in the hallway and brought it straight to me. I accepted his support as I sat down, then winced as he easily unhooked my IV with a raised brow and rescued the gown from the pole. He handed me a T- shirt from the bag Rowdy brought for me, then helped when I couldn’t get it over my head.

Now decent and re-attached to my IV, I didn’t even have enough gas to sit up. Instead, I set my elbow on the arm of the wheelchair, propping my head on my hand as he rolled me to the elevator and down to the floor below.

When we got to her room, he paused. “I’m gonna hang with my buddies here for a few minutes, and you poke your head out when you’re ready for me, okay?”

“Thank you.”

His brows met in the middle, as if my ready acquiescence was a cause for concern.

“I think it’s important that family get to see each other, but you both need lots of rest, so we can’t make this a long visit.”

“Agreed,” I said, surprised at how much my throat still hurt. As he turned to join his friends, I reached out for him. “Hey, McHottie.”

He reversed course with a grin and pointed to his name tag. “Darren.”

“Sorry, Darren. I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did I have the same thing Stevie did? The anaphylaxis?”

He shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Why does my throat hurt?”

Understanding lit his eyes. “You were intubated when you first came in, likely as a precaution. You were agitated and disoriented when you regained consciousness, and the first thing you did was try to remove the tube. You had to be restrained until the ER attending determined that your cardiac and pulmonary functions were good enough to let us extubate you.”

“Seems about right. Fighting, even while barely conscious.”

He laughed, but it was a sad sort of thing, like he felt bad for me. I think for the first time in my life, I did too.

With that, he let me in Stevie’s room, and I rolled up to her bed. She looked so small with all the tubes running out of her. So damn vulnerable. I was just grateful I could make out her eyes, her lashes thick against her chubby cheeks.

Seeing her like this broke something in me, and I leaned forward, crossing my arms on the bed, laying my forehead on my forearms, and weeping as quiet as I could. After a few minutes, her warm hand landed on my arm.

“Woody?” she asked, her voice thready.

I sniffed and straightened, wiping my face.

“Hey, Stevie-girl. How are you doing?” I asked, reaching up to stroke her hair.

She blinked and scrunched her nose, just like I’d seen her dad do. “What happened to your face?”

“About three hundred killer bees died just to let me know how much they hated me.”

“Dad said you saved my life.”

“Well, I should’ve cleaned out that tire a long time ago. That one’s my fault.”

Shaking her head, she countered, “You didn’t know bees were going to be in there.”

“No, I didn’t. I’d just gotten too busy and forgot about the tire.”

She reached out and squeezed my hand. “It’s okay. I forget important stuff all the time. Last year I kept forgetting to do my homework and Dad said I won’t graduate until I’m thirty.”

I chuckled. “That’s one hell of an exaggeration. Believe me, they’ll do everything they can to have you out of there by twenty-five.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s at least fifty cents right there.”

“No. I’m in the hospital. All bad words are free. “

“Fuck yeah.”

She giggled. “You’re kind of funny when you’re not being a grouch.”

She was joking, of course, but her words carried an unexpected sting.

“Do you really think I’m a grouch?”

She shook her head. “I could tell from the beginning. Grandma says you’re too sweet, so you gotta put up barbed wire. I get it.”

“You do, do you? How’d you get so wise?”

“Dad says I have an old soul.”

“I can see that.” I was grateful for her hand in mine as she dispensed the ineffable wisdom of an almost eleven-year-old.

She stared at me, thoughts working behind those brilliant eyes of hers.

“What?” I asked self-consciously.

“I overheard Dad tell Grandma you were mean to him earlier.”

Shame flooded my chest. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling right and I’m still in a lot of pain, though I suppose it’s not good enough reason to be mean to somebody.”

She held her thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. “I suppose if we can curse in the hospital, we can also be a little grumpy.”

“Grumpy is okay,” I said, shrinking in on myself. “But mean isn’t. And I was mean.”

“Dad said you’re mean because you’re scared. Why are you scared?”

“Because someone broke my heart, and they were real ugly about it. Real hurtful.”

“Well, you didn’t deserve that.”

“No, but your dad didn’t deserve the things I said, either.”

“We have a rule. If you say something that isn’t nice, you have to apologize. But only when you honestly mean it. It has to be sincere,” she said, emphasizing the word with a serious look. “Otherwise, it just hurts more.”

“I don’t think your dad will ever forgive me, no matter how sincere I am.”

She snorted. “That’s silly. He loves you.”

My head snapped up. “Who told you that? You overhear that?”

She gestured to her still-puffy face. “Duh. I have eyes.”

I laughed, realizing how much I loved this little girl. The laughter quickly choked off into more of the damned tears. I lowered my chin, not wanting her to see me like this.

“I’m sorry that you’re sad, Woody. But don’t worry. Dad will forgive you. Just...don’t hurt him,” she said, her little face sober as a preacher. “He’ll never say, but he’s more sensitive than he looks. Don’t let him love you if you’re gonna be a mean old cuss to him.”

I inhaled sharply. “I wouldn’t be mean to him.”

“You say that, but you just admitted that you’ve already been mean to him.”

I dropped my chin. “You’re right. I was mean to him when we first met, and I was mean to him again today. Back then, I was in a lot of pain because my heart was broken. Not that it’s any excuse, but I don’t feel that way anymore.”

“Is that because you love him?”

I went silent, not sure how to answer, or if I should.

“If you don’t love him, don’t you break his heart,” she said, her amber eyes sharp in the low light.

I shook my head. “You know why I can’t be mean to your dad?”

She shook her head.

“Because it hurts me to hurt him. And I never want him to be hurt. Ever . That’s the problem, I guess,” I admitted. “I’ve been so mad and sad because the man I was with before didn’t care about me. And you’re usually supposed to allow some time to get over it. But there your dad was a month later, and he changed everything.”

“Were you with this guy for a long time?”

I lifted a shoulder. “A little over a year.”

She held up her hands like I’d missed the point entirely.

“What?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear what she had to say.

“Google says you need a month for every year you were with someone to get over them.”

“Oh yeah? Why were you looking up something like that?”

“I was searching for something else, but sometimes the searches don’t work for me,” she admitted with a grimace.

“Same.”

“So, are you gonna apologize?”

I was nodding before she’d finished her question. “I will apologize. But, like I said, I don’t think your dad is going to forgive me.”

She silently beckoned me to come closer, so I did. She then reached up and flicked my forehead. Hard .

“Ouch. I saved your life, and this is how you thank me?”

“You are an asshole.”

“Really taking advantage of that no bad words clause for the hospital, huh?”

“You said fuck. And asshole isn’t as bad as fuck, and you are an asshole. “

“Why am I an asshole?” I asked, damn well knowing the answer.

She reached out and thunked me again. “Because you don’t know that you’re a good person, which is stupid. I had a bad reaction, but then you picked me up and you ran so fast.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything, Woody. I knew you would take care of me.”

“Always, sweetheart. Always,” I said, meaning it with my entire heart.

She smiled and opened her hand to me. I took it, and it felt like a promise.

“Here’s the thing you don’t know about my dad,” she said, very seriously. “He loves me more than anything in the world.”

“Anybody who meets y’all knows that.”

“Yeah, but that means he’s also kind of a pushover for me.”

“Oh, really?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Now shush. Don’t you tell him I know that. I’ve got a pony and a zonkey out of it, and I don’t want you to go ruining things for me.”

I crossed my heart. “Swear I won’t say a word.”

“But you should know he’s a pushover for all the people he loves. And he loves you and he loves Rowdy, but in different ways. So, unless you’re going to be an asshole more than, like, ten percent of the time, he’s going to forgive you.”

“I don’t want to be an asshole even one percent of the time.”

“Even better,” she said with an enormous yawn.

At the same moment, nurse Darren popped into the room. “How are we doing?”

“We’re doing well,” I said, feeling more hopeful than I had in a long time. “We decided that the no bad words rule didn’t apply to hospitals.”

“True that,” he said, grinning widely.

Stevie faced me and held her finger to her mouth. “But don’t tell my dad. He doesn’t know that’s the rule, and I just got my allowance.”

I laughed, then kissed her hand. “I am the soul of discretion.”

“Good. Now apologize so my dad can kiss you and be happy.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Darren rolled me out of the room and shut the door, then said, “She sure has your number.”

“Yep. Though...I might give her dad a few days to simmer down.”

“Good idea.”