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Sunlight cast a red glow on the backs of Quinn’s eyelids. She’d forgotten to pull the blinds closed. She pried her sticky eyelids open and groaned. Apparently, she’d forgotten to go home as well. She and her mom had stayed up talking long into the night, and she’d fallen asleep still fully clothed atop her floral bedspread, covered only with the afghan from the living room couch.
The smell of fresh-brewed coffee and homemade pancakes had her stomach doing its own groaning. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. No wonder she was making poor decisions. So many poor decisions.
She pushed back the afghan and scooted to the side of the bed, propping her feet on the bedframe, then stretched and caught her reflection in her dresser mirror. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her hair stuck out every which way from her braid.
Not as bad as before. After Brendan died, she wasn’t eating much and was running every chance she got. She’d grown gaunt and unhealthy. Now, she just looked tired.
Nick had been good for her. Because of him, they both had the friend they needed. “ ‘And isn’t that a lovely way to begin?’ ”
She warmed as she repeated Mrs. LaRue’s wisdom. They’d missed Monday night. She’d better call Dr. Holiday so he wouldn’t worry about Nick.
Her phone, sitting on her nightstand, displayed a few minutes past eight. She breathed deep and blew out her breath. Today, she’d deal with life. She’d be the friend she’d promised to be and continue in the relationship she’d started—or he’d started. Who knew anymore?
With her braid yanked out and a ponytail taking its place, she slid her phone into her back pocket and dragged her feet to the kitchen.
Mom flipped pancakes on the griddle. “I thought you might be hungry. They’re chocolate chip.”
“Starving actually. Mmm, my favorite.” She edged closer and drew Mom into a side hug, resting her head against Mom’s shoulder. Her stomach growled again as she breathed in the warm sweet scent. “You know I only eat these here? I won’t eat them anywhere else.”
Mom tipped her head against the top of Quinn’s, then flipped another bubbly pancake. “I haven’t made them in a long time.”
“Not even for Dad?”
“Just for you, baby.”
Quinn snickered, released her mom, and moved to grab a stack of plates.
“Good morning, precious girl.” From his place at the table, Dad crinkled the paper as he lowered it, brown eyes big behind his reading glasses.
Heart bursting, she scooted across the room and put the plates on the table before wrapping an arm around his sturdy shoulders. “Why aren’t you at work?”
He patted the arm she’d put around him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay before I left.”
He glared at her over his reading glasses as she sank sideways into the chair next to his.
“So how about it?” He rested his hand on her knee, and she wrapped hers around it. “Are you okay?”
She nodded as Mom set a plate of steaming pancakes on the table and sat across from them. When Quinn had gotten her chance to be normal, to be okay, she’d balked. Time to grow up. She couldn’t always be a source of worry for them. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Quinn.” Dad slid off his glasses and laid them atop his folded paper, then rested his arm on his chairback and gave her big daddy eyes. “You’ve been through hell and back. And it wasn’t a short trip. Yesterday couldn’t have been easy for you.”
Her heart clenched at the memory. “It wasn’t. Not one single bit. But it’s no excuse to not be there for Nick.”
“And we will always be here for you. You’ll never be alone.” Mom reached across the table to take their hands. “Pete, please bless these sweet treats we’re calling breakfast.”
They bowed their heads as Dad prayed. “Oh, Lord, Our God, we thank you for this day. We praise you for sparing Nick and ask that you heal his body. And please, Lord, continue to heal these young hearts of the grief they suffer. Thank you for providing all we need. In Jesus’s name, amen.”
Quinn squeezed Dad’s hand. “Thanks, Daddy.”
Dad winked at her. “Now, eat your pancakes.”
Quinn, smiling and at ease, hauled two pancakes to her plate. Then her phone buzzed.
Ignoring the no-phones-at-the-table rule, she answered and pent-up questions burst free. “Cale, how’s Nick? Have you talked to him this morning? What did the doctor say?”
“He’s doing well.” Strong and steady as his son’s, Cale’s voice soothed. “The nurse said he’s been talking to her, making her laugh.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Sounds like Nick.”
“They still have him hyped up on pain meds, not as much as last night, but he’s still drowsy and speaking incoherently.”
Apparently, Nick had taken the brunt of the hit to his right side, his heart escaping injury. Despite his strength, Cale’s voice shook as he shared the doctor’s news. She softened her grip on the phone, on herself, wanting to reach out and touch the man’s hand. “And how are you?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get through this just fine. What about you, kiddo?”
She cast a guilty smile to her parents. “Since the initial shock’s worn off, I’m a lot better. What time can I go up there? Does he need me to bring him anything?”
“Quinn...”
Her muscles tensed at his tone.
“Maybe you should give him a couple of days, wait until he’s in a regular room before you go see him again.”
She sprang from her seat, screeching the chair across the tile and earning worried glances. “What? Why?” Her fingers pinched tight around the slim phone as she stepped a few feet away. “He’s okay, right?”
“He’s going to be just fine. No sugarcoat.” His chuckle eased her worry. “He’s worried about you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you. He does.”
Nick was protecting her. Or maybe protecting himself, which she didn’t blame him. Well, not this time. “Cale, what time do visiting hours start?”
A deep breath whistled through the speakers. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
Quinn finished her pancakes, hugged and kissed her parents, and went home to shower. Visiting hours began at eleven, and she didn’t want to be late.
The familiar hospital smell didn’t bother her this time, the elevator wasn’t confining, and her painting wasn’t so daunting. She’d greeted it with a smile. Today, the sun was rising.
She stepped out of the elevator and approached the ICU. They buzzed her in even though she was early, then directed her to his room.
She edged past the same style sliding glass door with its curtain waiting to be pulled over for privacy. Fewer big machines loomed over Nick here, but the small ones with tubes and wires still had their claws in his body. He slept, his chest rising and falling, his heart monitor tracking a steady beat.
With her heart beating out of her chest, she swallowed hard and padded to his left side, determined to get through this for him. She almost groaned at the selfish thought. After all, he was the one who had something to get through.
Planting her feet firmly, she slipped her hand into his. His fingers jerked at her touch. With her other hand, she touched his forearm. His shoulders twitched, and his eyebrows rose as if he were trying to open his eyes.
A grimace contorted his face with his deep breath, but a hoarse groan cut it short. His lips parted, and he fought his heavy eyelids open as if to determine if she was there. “Quinn?”
“It’s me. I’m here.” She slid her hand up his arm to his biceps.
He narrowed his glazed eyes. “You aren’t supposed to be here. Didn’t Dad tell you?”
“He may have mentioned it. I’m fine, Nick. I want to be here.”
“No.” The word stabbed her heart. His hand worked to rid itself of hers. “I don’t want you here. Go home.”
The line on the monitor flicked faster.
“Nick, I’m okay. I want to be here for you.”
“Get out. You’ll just leave again.” He wouldn’t look at her. Beneath the bandages, his skin mottled red, and his face twisted into hard lines. “I want you to leave.”
Fear shot through her veins, paralyzing her. “I–I don’t understand.”
“Get.” He tried to sit up. “Out.”
A tremor of shock jolted through her, freeing her muscles to move.
“What is going on in here?” A nurse burst into the room. She crossed to him and gripped his shoulders, pushing him back down on the bed.
Palms out, Quinn backed toward the door. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m leaving.”
“I knew you would.” Low and gravelly, the growl chased her.
She flinched at his words, hugged her purse to her, and fled the unit. She burst through the ICU door and collided with Cale.
“Quinn? What—Oh, honey...” He grasped her shoulders, steadying her, bending to make eye contact. “What happened?”
“I shouldn’t have come.” His hands on her arms added to the weight pressing on her. She couldn’t stop shaking. “He doesn’t want me here.”
His tense body physically relaxed. The poor man. Perhaps he thought something had gone wrong with Nick. “It’s the pain meds. He wants you here. I know he does.”
She slid away from the weight of his hands, ducked her head from the pressure of his eyes. “Whatever he wants, it’s not good for him for me to be here right now.”
“I’m sorry, Quinn.” Cale cleared his throat. “I thought it would be good for both of you.”
“It’s not your fault.” Her body ached from being tense. “I’m going home.”
“I’ll keep you informed of his progress and call when he’s out of ICU. They’ll have him off the harsh meds, and he’ll be back to normal.” He touched her shoulder. “He’ll want to see you.”
If she spoke, no words would come out, so she hurried to the elevators. Too numb to notice if they made her feel claustrophobic, she pressed herself against the back wall, thankful she was alone. He didn’t want her. Lie! He didn’t want her here. That was all. Or maybe he didn’t want her. How much was the meds and how much was him?
Better to be without, than to live with the pain. Wasn’t that how she’d been all this time? Maybe he was realizing the same.
She fought the urge to sink to the floor, relieved when the doors opened and released her into the world.
