I love you, she'd said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
It had just slipped out. Thank goodness she'd had her head tucked under his chin so he couldn't see her cheeks suffuse with color. Surely, even in the dark, they would have emitted a rosy glow. Man, did she know how to screw things up.
First of all, she was pretty sure she did love him, and in that way, too—she had to figure out how to get over the whole brother love stigma. Because what she was feeling didn't seem very brotherly after all—but she was also pretty sure she'd handled things all wrong over the last couple of weeks. It wasn't fair to Ricky for her to just blurt out her feelings after she'd raked him over the coals the way she had, and just expect him to be all okay with it. She owed him an apology, an explanation if she could come up with a reasonable one, and a huge barrel of sensitivity.
But the moment those words had escaped her lips, instead of wanting to take them back, she'd wanted to repeat them. She'd wanted to lean back in his arms, look him in the eyes, and say it again and again. They'd flowed across her tongue and poured out of her, each tiny syllable filling her mouth completely, the soft consonants forming between her parted lips. The phrase, itself, was a verbal caress that sent tiny vibrations through her from the top of her head where it made her scalp tingle, to the tips of her toes that curled in the soles of her sandals. Even her fingertips buzzed a little, and she didn't think it was from the cool night air.
She had to compose herself. Now was not the time to go all gooey brain. She needed to focus on Gramps. She needed to know he was going to be okay.
She walked ahead of Ricky into the hospital room, and even though he wasn't touching her, she was acutely aware of him right behind her. She reached back instinctively for his hand when she saw her grandfather, his poor battered face, a large gauze pad taped to his forehead where he'd split it open on the edge of the shovel when he'd fallen. His left eye was all shades of purple and red bruising, and dried blood still clung to his eyebrow below the bandage and in the creases and wrinkles around his eye. The hair at his left temple was also matted with dried blood, and Granny G reached up and pulled a piece of a leaf from the messy strands. His bottom lip was split, and there was an abrasion on his chin. In her mind's eye, Gia replayed his fall again. He'd gone down hard, without making any effort to catch himself, completely out even before he hit the ground.
Gramps looked so fragile laid out in the hospital bed, IVs and monitors hooked up to various parts of him, his skin, except for the bruising, sallow and almost blue-tinged. At least they'd replaced the oxygen mask with a nasal cannula, and the bulky neck brace was gone, too. Both good signs. Regardless, he seemed terribly old and sick, not at all like the patriarchal Rock of Gibraltar he'd always been in her mind. His eyelids fluttered open as she approached the side of the bed and touched his leg beneath the covers. He lifted a hand toward her, but he didn't really smile. Presumably because of his busted lip.
"Hey Gramps," she murmured, curling her fingers around his chilled ones while carefully avoiding bumping the IV taped in place over his wrist. She eyed the two pouches of liquid hanging on an IV pole near the head of his bed, and followed the plastic tubing that fed the pharmaceutical cocktail directly into his bloodstream via the needle stuck in one of the many prominent veins on the back of his hand. "At least they didn't have any trouble getting a good line on you." Dehydrated or not, her grandfather had vampire fantasy veins.
"Gia pet." His voice was gruff, raspy, and he sounded exhausted, or in pain. Probably both. "I'm sorry I scared you," he began.
"Hush, Gramps," she interrupted. "I'm the one who should be sorry for hitting you in the face with that shovel while you lay on the ground all helpless and stuff." It was a terrible attempt at humor, but she didn't want to start crying again.
Gramps chuckled and then grimaced, and he lifted his other hand to his mouth. "Don't make me laugh."
"Sorry," she murmured. "Do you need some water?"
"Please," he said, blinking slowly. Granny G reached for a full plastic cup on a hospital tray nearby. She handed it to him without saying a word, and he drank deeply, slowly, and then rested his head back against the pillow. "I'm sorry, folks," he murmured. "I can barely keep my eyes open."
"You can sleep, honey," Granny G said, her tone gentle, soothing. The nurse had assured them that in spite of the concussion, it was no problem for him to sleep because they'd monitor him every hour or so. "The doctor will be here shortly and she can tell us all that we need to know for now. You just rest." She smoothed the hair back from his forehead, her brows furrowed with concern as she studied her husband's face. "I love you, Henry." And almost as an afterthought, she added, "You crazy old man." Gramps didn't open his eyes, but the corners of his mouth hitched up as he turned his face toward the woman he'd been married to for so many years.
Feeling gently dismissed, Gia stepped away from the bed and glanced around the room. Juliette and Renata sat in two chairs against one wall, their heads together, conversing in hushed tones. She could hear Phoebe just outside in the corridor talking to someone, maybe on the phone. For a moment, Gia didn't know what to do with herself, where she belonged, a feeling that was becoming all too familiar these days.
Ricky took her hand and drew her over to an empty chair in one corner near the door. "Sit," he said, moving to stand behind the chair.
Gia hesitated briefly, about to ask him where he was going to sit if she took the only chair, but the look in his eyes brooked no argument. And when she thought about it, she really didn't want to argue with him at that moment anyway. She dropped into the seat and sighed deeply when his strong hands began to gently knead her neck and shoulders.
"I'm next," Phoebe said as she reentered the room and eyed the two of them, albeit without rancor. They must have taken her spot. She reached up and patted Ricky on the cheek, but all she said was, "You're a good friend, Rick. Gia's lucky to have you."
"Almost as lucky as Trevor is to have you," Ricky returned, his smile as genuine as his words.
Gia lowered her gaze to the floor, not wanting Phoebe to guess what she was thinking, something her sister seemed to do easily enough. Was Ricky comparing their relationship to the white hot one Phoebe and Trevor shared? Whenever the two lovebirds were in the same room, the air itself seemed to smolder and shimmer around them. Gia knew Trevor had some pretty strict rules for himself when it came to dating and abstinence and sex being intended for marriage, but there were times when she wanted to holler at them to just get a room already and put everyone out of their misery. Fortunately for all, Phebes and Trevor were to be married in May, but Gia secretly wondered if things would get worse before they got better once the couple was allowed to have their way with each other.
Could things be like that between Gia and Ricky? All hot and bothered and intense? Did she want everyone to look at them the way they all looked at Phebes and Trevor, half pitying, half amused, and half in wonder?
"Wait. That's three halves." She didn't realize she'd spoken out loud until Ricky interrupted her train of thought, making her jump.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing." She shook her head and muttered, "Just thinking out loud, that's all. Stupid stuff." She should be thinking about Gramps, not about getting all hot and bothered with Ricky. Geez. Talk about self-centered.
Phoebe smoothed a hand over Gia's curls and then crouched down in front of her. "You holding up, Gia pet?" she asked, using her grandfather's endearment. "Gramps is as tough as a piece of old shoe leather. You know that, right?"
Gia met her gaze and nodded, feeling the tears well up again. "I'm just glad he's going to be okay," she whispered. She was also glad all three of her sisters had dropped what they were doing and come at a moment's notice. After her behavior at their G-FOURce the night before, there'd been a moment when she'd worried they might think twice about coming to her aid. She knew that was silly. The four of them had endured much more difficult things than one sister throwing a temper tantrum, but this was the first time it had been Gia throwing the fit.
Phoebe straightened up and cupped Gia's face in her hands. "You are a good girl, Gia. You're a good granddaughter, a good sister, just like we've said to you your whole life." She was clearly referring to Gia's meltdown last night, but before Gia could speak, she continued, leaning closer. "And you're a good daughter, too. Maman would have been proud of you today."
The words, intended to comfort, made Gia lash out childishly. "No, I'm not. I'm mean and impatient and fickle and rude and scared out of my mind half the time. I'm angry and stubborn, and—and—I can't make up my mind about anything these days." She spoke softly, but with vehemence, and her words kept coming. "You can say it all you want, but that doesn't make it true."
Phoebe stood and took a deep breath. She glanced over her shoulder at their grandparents and Gia followed her gaze. Gramps seemed completely out, his lips slightly parted, his breathing steady, if a little shallow, and Granny G was bent over a folder of paperwork in her lap. She didn't fool anyone; the girls knew full well that their grandmother had the keenest hearing of them all. Phoebe offered Gia her hand. "Come out in the hall with me, okay?"
"I don't want to miss the doctor." Stubborn. Yep.
"Unless she uses a teleportation device to get in here, we won't miss her," Phoebe insisted, now waving her hand in Gia's face. "Come on. We'll stand right outside the door."
Gia finally took her sister's hand and stood to follow her. "If I'm not back in a few minutes, call security," she said to Ricky over her shoulder. He grinned and nodded, and took the chair she'd vacated.
"I'll keep your seat nice and warm for you," he quipped, the concern on his face softening with his teasing. "Just the way you like it."
Both Gia and Phoebe wrinkled their noses and said, "Ew," sounding just like the sisters they were.
Out in the hall, Phoebe turned to face her. "Listen, I'm sorry about last night. I'm sorry I haven't been more sensitive to what you've been feeling about all of this. You're right about me, Gia. I'm really good at making things all about me, but I'm also really tired of it, and I have a feeling everyone else is, too. So forgive me, okay?"
Gia nodded, a little ashamed over the way she'd verbally jabbed at Phoebe. "I'm sorry, too. I wasn't very nice to you."
Phoebe waved her apology away. "I needed to hear it, and besides, I'm almost as tough as that old man in there."
Gia snorted. "You can say that all you want, too, but that doesn't make it true, either."
"Touché." Phoebe reached up to pat Gia's cheek the way she'd done to Ricky only moments earlier. "Regardless, you have a right to your feelings, which doesn't make you a bad person, Gia. You don't have to go to Alice's with us. We all understand, I promise. So will Alice. And when Angela gets home, she’ll just have to deal with what she gets. It’s your decision and no one else’s." Phoebe took her by the shoulders, and even though she was several inches shorter than Gia, she wore platform heels today so she was almost able to look her in the eye. "Okay? This is your decision, and no matter what you choose, we love you." She shook her a little. "And you're not allowed to feel guilty about saying no or guilted into saying yes, you hear?"
Gia nodded again, slowly. The stubborn creature inside still scrabbled to get out, but she only said, "I'll think about it, but I probably won't go this weekend. I want to be here for Gramps and Gran."
"You're absolutely right. Whether they keep him here for awhile or he gets to go home, they'll need you." Phoebe hugged her quickly, then stepped back again. "Jules, Ren, and I will go this first time, okay? We'll scope it out, and if Angela is a freak of nature, it'll be the last time, too."
Gia nodded, hating the rush of relief that washed over her as Phoebe made the decision for her. Somewhere buried deep in the back of her mind lay the knowledge that she was just putting off the inevitable. Because if Angela Clinton wasn't a freak of nature—and all evidence pointed to her being anything but—there was no reason to believe this first dinner together would be the last.