Chapter 49
Madi
“They’re on their way,” Dad said after glancing at his phone. Mine had fallen out of my pocket during our escape and was now extra crispy. Something I’d learned when I asked for my belongings and the plastic bag they gave me had nothing but torn, blood-stained, smoke scented clothing.
All of which had been tossed.
“When will my phone get here?” I asked impatiently. I hated having to rely on everyone else to relay information. And much to my surprise, I missed the ability to chat with my brothers in our group chat.
Sure, we mostly gave each other shit, but it was all done with love.
A soft knock on the door interrupted my meandering mind.
“Come in.” Dad called to the door. To me he said, “It should be delivered later today. I’ll have Jay bring it when he visits this evening.”
“Thank you.”
Matt looked impatient as fuck as my mom rolled him into the room.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he volleyed back, his smile reaching his eyes.
“How’d your surgery go?”
“Good.” He lifted his arm. “I’ll be good as new in no time.”
My muscles relaxed knowing Matt would heal a lot quicker having had a successful skin graft.
“Just because…”
Matt stood, and I forgot what I wanted to say.
Right, infection. “You still have…”
Matt stalked towards my bed, a predator closing in on his prey.
If I’d been standing, my knees would have weakened.
“Infection can still—”
Matt.
That was literally the only cohesive word in my brain as he gently cupped the back of my head and shut me up with a kiss.
When he finally broke the kiss, he said. “I love you, too.”
Was that what I tried to say?
In my own clinical way, I guess it was.
“So what were you saying about infection?” he teased as he sat on the side of my bed.
I was about to ask my parents to give us some privacy when I realized they’d already left.
“You have to be careful.” I smiled as I reached for his good hand.
“I guess it’s a good thing I’ll have a live in nurse.”
“I guess so. We’ll have to stock up on supplies, and special bandages for your—”
“Madi, relax. I don’t expect you to take care of me.”
“But your arm.”
He shifted his position and very deliberately scanned me from head to toe.
“How about this? We’ll take care of each other.”
As I pondered the idea of letting Matt take care of me, I realized I didn’t hate the idea.
My answer was more than just a concession when I said, “That sounds perfect.”
“Good. Have you talked to Dr. Greenfield?”
“I did. She insisted I take two weeks off.”
“Is that enough?”
“I hope so. I want to return to the clinic as soon as possible.” What I didn’t say was that I needed to return to normal, so I didn’t dwell on the hellish nightmare I’d lived through. And hopefully, I’d be too tired to keep having nightmares about said nightmare.
“I asked my doctor to recommend a good trauma therapist in the area. I don’t know about you, but I could use some help dealing with my nightmares.”
How did he do that? How’d he hear what I didn’t say?
“I asked Carol for a recommendation.”
“I should’ve thought of that.”
He changed the subject. “Shane should be here soon.”
“I’m glad he’s coming.” Shane was the one stable person from Matt’s childhood.
“I’d like you to meet him.” Matt used his thumbs to trace comforting circles on the back of my hand.
The lazy motion sent heat straight to my core.
Seriously, hormones? Now is the least appropriate time to act up. Well, maybe not the least appropriate, but it had to be in the top five.
“I’d like that.”
Somehow, Matt and I went from fake dating to exchanging I love you’s and meeting the parents in under seventy-two hours.
Three days ago, I treated patients and rocked my niece to sleep.
Three days ago, I told Matt to go home because I couldn’t handle the emotions that seemed to flare up every time I watched him do something domestic to help my brother.
Three days ago, my biggest physical issue was lack of sleep.
Now I was a disgusting, lovesick puppy with scars all over her body who’d have to worry about explaining them to curious strangers and my nieces and nephews when they were old enough to ask with filterless curiosity.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I mentally slapped myself. Feeling sorry for myself would help no one.
Least of all me.
I remembered something one of my instructors had said when we were training for field medicine, when I asked about making sure we used clean bandages to dress wounds. “Use what you have. We can heal an infection but we can’t heal death.”
Simple. Straight. Accurate.
The logic applied to my situation. I could explain the scars however I wanted. I’m just happy I’m alive to explain them.
“I’m okay. This is all… it’s a lot, you know?”
“I do. You want to talk about it?”
I did, but not now.
“Maybe later.”
“Okay.”
Despite all the gratitude for my aliveness, and telling myself I was okay with the scars, I still freaked out when a knock sounded on my door.
“I look awful,” I whispered when my bandaged wrist moved through my line of sight as I brought my hand to my gross hair.
“You’re beautiful, Red.”
My dad stuck his head in the door. “Matt, Shane’s here.”
“Thanks. Give me a second.”
Dad closed the door.
“Madi, if you want to wait to meet him—”
Once again, Matt saw what I needed before I said a word.
“Can I have a few minutes? Maybe have my mom help me wash my hair or something?”
“Sure. Tell you what, we’ll come back after dinner.”
“Thank you. Now go see Shane.”