42. Chapter 42
Chapter 42
Elise
I still couldn’t believe Dylan’s Mom, Amy, had snuck me back here. What was even more surprising was that Detective Fulsom let me ride in the police helicopter they had waiting on standby back to Rancho Invitado.
Why hadn’t they used that in the first place and saved us from this whole mess?
Only family was supposed to be allowed to see Dylan right after his surgery, which was probably why the nurse gave me a skeptical look when she wheeled him into the room.
“Were they able to get everything out alright? I know the doctor said they did, but is there a possibility they missed anything?” Amy asked, biting her lower lip.
The smile the nurse gave her looked a little forced. “Mrs. Harper, Doctor Rueben is very good at what she does. If she says they got everything, I believe her. From what I hear, your son’s pretty lucky. A few inches lower, and the bullet would have punctured his lung.”
The nurse continued speaking, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than Dylan’s limp figure laying in the hospital bed. Normally, the guy was like Bessey with a ball, totally incapable of sitting still, or focusing for more than a few seconds. Seeing him like this, it was just wrong. Squeezing his hand, I sniffled. I turned my face away from the women before they could see my red-rimmed eyes.
“Hey Elise, you’re okay,” rasped Dylan’s voice. I resisted the urge to throw my arms around him, and instead, soaked up the sight of his goofy, drooling grin. “Did you hear that I got shot?” he asked in a slurred voice.
I coughed down a laugh. “Yeah, I did.”
“And guess what?” He leaned forward, wincing. “I got into a car chase. There were like fifty cops behind me by the end, but don’t tell my mom.” Dylan’s whisper voice was so loud, they could probably hear it down the hall. His mom stood watching the two of us, her red lipstick covered lips pursed into a thin line.
While we were waiting for Dylan to come out of surgery, I’d told her most of what had happened, including how he’d saved me from Pete. I’d left out the part where Dylan had led the police on a car chase up the canyon, which according to the other officers who had ridden with us in the helicopter home, had been the first of its kind in this area for years.
Gasp. “What happened to your arm?” His hand flopped against the thick bandage, and I winced.
“It’s just a cut. I’m fine.” A really deep cut, but at least the bullet hadn’t stayed lodged in there.
“Oh, okay.” He patted me way harder than was necessary.
“Hey Donatello,” he called, “do you still have the bullet?” When no-one answered, he spoke louder. “Donatello, come on, man. You took it out, so where is it?”
The nurse in green scrubs with her dark hair tied back in a purple scrunchie looked at him with raised brows. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah, can I have my bullet now? I want to frame it. I want it right over my bed when I sleep.”
Smirking, the nurse said, “I’ll see what I can do.” She was probably used to dealing with loopy patients like this. I, on the other hand, pulled out my phone and began recording. Doped up Dylan was even more entertaining than regular Dylan, and I didn’t want to forget a second of this.
“I love you, Elise.” The words were slurred. He gave my hand a pat, then turned to Amy, who was now sitting at the foot of the bed. “Mom, I just love Elise. Isn’t she great? You know what else’s great? Cereal. Cereal’s super great.” His voice turned sad. “I’m going to miss it, aren’t you? I really love cereal.” The guy was crying now.
“That’s great, Honey.” His mom patted his foot, chin quivering as she tried to hold back a laugh.
From the other end of the room came a buzzing noise. Amy shuffled to her purse, then dug out her phone. “Hi Honey. Yes, he’s out of surgery now. They got it all out, so he should be good. He’s already awake and responding, and judging by the way he’s talking, he should be fine once the meds wear off. Yes, I know, Derek. I’ll be sure to tell them.”
Garbled noises that sounded a lot like yelling came through the line. Amy held the phone away from her ear. “Well look,” she said when the shouting stopped. “You’ll be home in a few hours anyway, as long as traffic holds. Why don’t you tell them yourself when you get here?” Again, she had to pull away from the phone.
While his mom talked, Dylan took to loudly humming the tune to “Eye of the Tiger” while strumming a one-handed air guitar.
“Okay, fine. Anything else?” Amy eventually growled into her phone. More garbled yells. “I most certainly will not do that and neither should you. I don’t care if she’s a Sudbury; she’s a nice girl and part of Dylan’s life now, so you can be civil. It’s not her fault that Pete Atwater turned out the way he did, just like it’s not her fault that he killed her dad or shot Dylan. Give it a rest, Derek.”
When she was answered with a stream of shouts, interspersed with cuss words, Amy muted her phone and said, “I better go take this in the hall.”
“Bye, I’ll miss you,” Dylan shouted with a slur.
“Record him while I’m gone,” she said with a wink.
I liked her. Maybe she was where Dylan got his sense of humor from. It definitely didn’t come from his dad.
Something thudded against my hand. I looked to where Dylan sloppily patted me, then to his dopey grin.
“You’re pretty,” he said, a trail of slobber escaping one corner of his mouth.
“Thanks. You’re downright hot when you’re not drugged and drooling,” I countered, watching to see how he would react.
He gave me an unfocused stare. “I wanna kiss you,” he slurred out, spittle trailing down his chin.
I barely kept from laughing. “Why don’t we save that for when you’re sober enough not to slobber all over me?”
Too late. Dylan’s lips were puckered and glistening with spit. The guy had saved my life, and drool or no, I really liked him.
Fine. I leaned in for the barest of pecks, then pulled back and wiped my lips on my sleeve when he wasn’t watching.
“I love you, Elise.”
“Thanks,” I said, not ready to say the words in return.
“Now where’s Mom with that cereal?”