19. Dylan

CHAPTER 19

DYLAN

I woke up after Tate left, listening to the steady beep of the heart monitor count off every pump of the stupid organ that had kept me alive. My shoulder ached, but it was a dull sensation so far beneath the surface and below the layers of pain medication it didn’t bother me. The Velcro on the arm sling rubbing against my skin was far more annoying than the injury itself.

A torn labrum, the doctor had told me.

They weren’t sure if I needed surgery yet, but it had my shoulder out of commission for further notice. Surgery would come with recovery time, and so would no surgery. There was no best case scenario for me.

Not anymore.

The only saving grace was that the hospital had called Tate instead of my parents, because if they found out about my injury, which I supposed would happen once they got the bill from the hospital, I might as well glue my ass to a Herman Miller chair and call it a wrap. They’d also called the police, but I wasn’t going to give them any information that would implicate how I’d gotten myself in the situation, so they left soon after their arrival, defeated with no leads or charges to press.

“I know you’re awake,” the second-to-last person I wanted to talk to said from somewhere near my hip.

I pried my eyes open—they were dry beyond belief—to find Alex sitting on the edge of my bed, one knee up on the sheets, his entire body mapped with exhaustion and worry.

“How long have you been here?”

“I came with Brooks and Tate,” he said.

“I meant here .”

“Long enough to notice the change in your heartbeat when you woke up and tried to pretend you were asleep still.”

“I was trying to pretend I was dead.” I let my eyes fall closed again. Keeping them open was too much effort. My shoulder hurt, my ribs burned—on account of two of them being bruised—and my head throbbed like someone was smashing me in the skull with an iron hammer.

“That’s one I don’t think Tate would forgive me for,” Alex said softly, tugging at the shitty hospital blanket and straightening it out over the top of my hip.

I hummed because it was all I had energy for.

The bed shifted, and before I could protest, Alex’s hand was around the back of my head and he had the rim of the shitty pink hospital cup pressed against my mouth.

“You need to drink some water,” he said, tipping the cup back.

I didn’t have it in me to argue. I was so tired of fighting.

The cold water sliding down my throat was the best thing I’d ever felt in my whole life, like it washed away the razor blades that had sprung up since I’d…

Since I’d…

Shit.

“That’s enough,” I said, trying to shove him off and only hurting myself in the process.

“Settle down,” he warned.

“Why are you here?” I opened my eyes into thin slits, rolling my head against the pillow so I could see his face without the overhead lights glaring in my eyes.

He studied my face, then stood, heading for the door with three long strides. He was leaving me. Again. Of course he was. If he didn’t want me before, why would he want me now? I bit my lips together between my teeth to stop from calling out for him. But instead of reaching for the handle on the door, he flipped off the lights and walked back to his perch beside me.

Alex sighed at my question, rubbing his chin with the side of his pointer finger, shoulders slumped. “I decided at the farm I was going to call you when I got back into town.”

“Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

“I’m sure you can find someone else who can hurt your feelings just as good as me, Alex,” I said, eyes closing once again, my last encounter with Alex still vibrant and fresh in my mind…unlike the past twenty-four hours.

I don’t know why I didn’t startle when he touched my face. Maybe I expected it from him, even though I had no idea how I already knew him well enough to know it was coming. His fingers softly dusted across my cheek and down toward my jaw, brushing over the scruff that I’d been neglecting.

“I’d rather nobody hurt my feelings,” he said quietly, “but I think it’s unavoidable.”

My breathing hitched when his fingers skated over the angle of my jaw and made their way to my neck. The bruising was long gone, and thankfully there wasn’t anything new to be seen, but his fingers moved over the ghost of them anyway, and that fucking heart monitor started to beep louder, betraying me like everything else in my life.

I was relieved Alex didn’t pay mind to the audible proof of how he affected me beyond the smallest twitch of his mouth. He traced his way along my collarbone to the thick black strap of the sling that held my shoulder steady before he stopped, stare flickering up to my face. I blinked slowly, watching the way he watched me, feeling even more vulnerable than I already was.

“Brooks offered to cover your half of the rent until you’re back on your feet,” Alex said, fingers moving down my sternum, stopping over my heart.

“Tate would never let him.”

“You’re right, but he’d let me.”

“I won’t,” I argued.

Alex flexed his fingers against the scratchy hospital gown like he wanted to reach into my chest and tear my heart out with his bare hands.

At this point, I’d let him.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You will.”

I licked my lips, tears welling up in my eyes before I could stop them. My lashes fluttered, but stopping the tears from escaping was impossible and I was too weak to put much effort into it anyway. Alex left his hand over my heart, using his other hand to wipe the tears away before they fell into my ears.

“Okay,” I agreed.

Relief washed out of him, settling over me like a balm that did far more for all of my wounds than anything they would give me at the hospital. I cried harder, silently, and he moved his other hand to my face, using his fingertips to swipe away each and every tear as it raced out of my eyes. He was being so kind, so gentle. I didn’t deserve it.

I didn’t want it.

But I wanted him .

“I’ll pay your rent as long as you need me to,” he clarified. “But I want you to come stay with me.”

I answered him before thinking, “No.”

He kept brushing away my tears.

“Green?” he asked.

I squeezed my eyes closed.

He was seeing me and there was nowhere for me to go. I was hooked up to monitors and IVs and pain medication drips and I was so fucking tired of fighting…

“I don’t mind the fight, Dylan,” he said, finger slowing in time with my tears. “But it has to be for both of us.”

“I know.” The tears had clearly stopped coming out of my eyes because they were all lodged in the back of my throat. “Can I have some water, please?”

Alex made a pleased noise and moved to bring the water to my lips once again. The ice cold liquid didn’t do much to wash the tears or the emotion away, but it was enough of a jolt that I was able to drag myself out of the misery of the past twenty-four hours.

The past two weeks.

The past two years…

“Thank you,” I croaked after he set the water back down on the table.

“I’m waiting,” he said, head slightly cocked to the side, one dark brow arched toward his hairline.

Even tired and tense, Alex was gorgeous.

Even mad at me.

With his dark eyes, a little bit of red around the whites, hidden behind the lenses of his glasses, and I remembered him being without those glasses, trying to blink me into focus.

“I was roofied,” I told him. “Or not actual roofies, something like it. I don’t remember the name they used.”

He clenched his jaw, working it side to side, but not saying a word. I knew the unspoken question was right on the tip of his tongue. It was the first thing I’d asked the doctors after they came back with my bloodwork. Well, the first thing I’d asked about after I realized I couldn’t move my shoulder.

“There’s no signs of…” I trailed off, expecting another wave of relief to roll off of him, but he remained stoic and still. “Not that it matters.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“Does it matter?”

Another click of his jaw. “Does it matter to you?”

“No.”

Alex swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Then it doesn’t matter to me.”

“The nurse said I was thrown out of a car in front of the ER,” I said. “Unconscious. Landed on my shoulder and…”

I jerked my head toward the sling since my shoulder surely wasn’t going to move.

“The nurse told me her best guess based off the dose they found in my blood is that I was too close to unconscious for it to be fun.” I closed my eyes, every word burning. “Either that or they worried I was about to die.”

Alex pulled his lips together, worrying them like it was the only thing stopping him from saying something we’d both regret. I hated his silence, but I didn’t know if I wanted him to yell at me or tell me it wasn’t my fault. Either would have been within fairness considering how we’d left things, and I would take whatever he wanted to give me. Because he said he’d missed me and I missed him, and it was unfair to the both of us for me to keep making that a problem.

“What about your shoulder?” he asked.

“They’re waiting to get me in for an MRI to see if I need surgery.”

Alex winced, returning one of his hands to the center of my chest. I didn’t see the point because the heart monitor gave away every hitch and hiccup.

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to play guitar again,” I finally spoke the words that had been screaming themselves at me since I’d woken up in the hospital bed. More unwanted, hot tears slicked down my cheeks too fast for Alex to catch them all with his fingers. Instead, he hitched me up halfway, wrapping his arms gingerly around me when I pressed my forehead against the side of his neck. The position was awkward and twisted and uncomfortable, but I would have been happy to never move again for the rest of my life. “Is that green for you ?”

“I’ll pay your rent,” he said again, ignoring the question while answering it at the same time, “but I want you to stay with me. I want you under my roof.”

“Under your heel.”

He gave a shake of his head that bumped into mine, but I couldn’t see his face to gauge his reaction.

“I want you to let me do what I do best,” he whispered.

I was about to ask him what that was, but I was so tired, I slumped against him, and he held my weight with ease. It was more of an answer than any words would have been on their own.

“Green,” I told him.

“It has to be for all of it, Dylan.” He stroked his hand down the back of my head, fingers tangling their way through hair that was already matting. “None of the shit that happened the last time we were together.”

“Green,” I whispered again.

“You’re not going to like everything. It’s not…not like it was when I paid you.”

The sex for money had been transactional. It had been Alex scratching an itch. From the haze of the morphine and the exhaustion, I understood the difference between before and also then. I’d gone into a relationship with him expecting more transactions, but the sex we’d had at the beginning of things had been superficial. It was great, but there wasn’t any heart behind it. No trust. Alex wanted more than just sex from me, and all I’d given him was the worst part of me.

I owed him an apology, but my mouth wasn’t going to form the words until my head was clear.

“I don’t like this ,” I said instead, eyes too heavy to open. “Can I lay down now?”

Alex made another sound, then shifted me off of him and back down onto the shitty hospital pillow. He was warmer and softer and…safer…but I didn’t want to ask him to stay.

But…

If he wanted me to be in for all of it, then he needed to be in for all of it too. Right? I was allowed to ask for things I wanted, wasn’t I?

“Will you stay?” I asked on a yawn.

“Of course,” he said quickly, settling me onto the bed and moving to stand up. There was a chair in the corner, but that wasn’t what I meant. It wasn’t what I wanted.

“No, wait.” I couldn’t reach for him quick enough. I was tired and my bones hurt. “I meant here.”

I lifted one hip, but it was all I could manage.

Alex lay down next to me, first on his side before rotating onto his back so I could lie on my good shoulder and press against him. The wires and tubes were beyond annoying, but he was calm and patient while we worked together to move them out of the way. By the time we got it finished, I would have sworn I’d run a marathon and sleep was close enough to snatch my next breath away.

“Thank you,” I whispered, already asleep, but I swear I heard him before I went under.

“Green.”