Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Noah
When I got the call from Harry that Tori was in the hospital after an overdose, my stomach sank to the floor, and I couldn’t help but blame myself.
I promised her I’d be by her side and help take care of her and the baby, and I failed at the first run.
I didn’t check in enough; I should have tried to stay instead of going back to Afghanistan, but I know deep down that wasn’t an option.
I had to go. My life feels like a collection of broken promises and failures.
I can’t seem to do anything right, but getting out of bed these days and showing up for work feels like the hardest challenge of my life.
Sleep is nonexistent. I am woken every night by the memories of gunfire, blood, and Scotty’s face, and I can’t see an end to it. But I made Scotty and Tori a promise.
I hate hospitals. I spent too many years in and out of them with my mom for various overdoses or accidents she had when drinking or because her latest boyfriend beat the shit out of her. They all have that stale, clinical smell, and it only heightens my anxiety about seeing Tori.
I hover outside her hospital room, holding the flowers I picked up for her, and peek through the glass, to see she is finally alone.
It’s been a revolving door of family and friends visiting her all day, and it’s clear how loved Tori is.
Growing up, it was just me and Ria; whenever something bad happened, it was me and her against the world.
There were never family or friends coming to save us.
We were on our own, and being nearly four years older than her, I did my best to shield her from as much as I could.
She and Alex are due their first baby in just a few weeks, and I am heading to their hometown next week, just outside of New York, to spend some time with her before her world changes, and I think it’s the escape and distraction I need.
I face the door, square my shoulders, and lightly tap the door with the backs of my knuckles.
“Come in.” Tori’s voice filters through the door as I push it open to find her in a large hospital bed, wearing a gown that drowns her tiny frame.
Her long, dark hair hangs limply around her face and cascades down her shoulders.
Her skin is pale like a porcelain doll, and her eyes look like they’ve somehow grown bigger.
She looks tired, hollow, a shell of her former self, but she can steal my breath away with her natural beauty and aura that no tragedy could take from her, because beneath it all, she is still Tori, and I’d fight so hard to help pull her to the surface again.
"Hi,” I say softly with a small wave.
She places the spoon she was eating her pudding with on the table and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, clearing her throat before speaking. “Noah, hi.” She gives me a weak smile, and I fight the urge to scoop her up and protect her.
“Hey, I hope it’s okay to stop by. I wanted to see how you were,” I say nervously, feeling a bead of sweat forming on my forehead.
“Of course. It’s good to see you.” Her eyes fall to the brown paper-wrapped flowers in my hand.
I lift them, taking slow steps towards her bed, and hold them out to her. “These are for you.”
A flicker of light shines in her eyes, and a little pink dusts her cheeks as she looks at them.
“You brought me daisies?” she questions, taking the bouquet and sniffing them.
“Uh, yeah. I asked the lady in the flower shop for something that would make someone smile.”
She beams at me. “Mission accomplished.”
I grin as I take a seat beside her bed. To my surprise, she leans over and presses a featherlight kiss to my cheek, leaving the skin hot and tingling.
“Thank you. That was really sweet of you. You’ve made my whole day.”
Warmth spreads across my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone’s day.
A silence falls between us, and I tap the heels of my military-style boots against the hard, shiny floor and glance around.
“Nice room.”
Nice room? That’s all I can say?
“It’s okay.”
Just when I think my mundane shit talk can’t get any worse, I ask, “How’s the food?”
She presses her lips together as if she’s fighting back a smile.
“The food is terrible. I’d do anything for something that didn’t look as anemic as me.” She points to a half-eaten plate of chicken, some questionable mashed potatoes, and some green beans that have been over-boiled and are more gray than green.
I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, that looks like it’s seen better days.”
She holds up an empty pudding cup. “God bless the chocolate pudding,” she says with a lightness in her voice I haven’t heard in a very long time.
Another awkward silence falls, and I shuffle uncomfortably in my hard plastic seat.
I hate this; this isn’t us. There are so many questions I want to ask her and things I want to say, but I don’t want to upset her or dredge up the past week’s events unless she wants to.
We both know why she’s in here, and I’m sure she’s told the same story over and over.
I want to give her space to breathe, a safe place to land, and a break from her reality.
I reach into my back pocket for the pack of playing cards I always carry with me and toss them onto the table in front of her.
“Any game. You pick,” I say as I point to the pack. She lifts them and inspects the battered, torn box. This pack of cards has traveled all over the world and been my relief when my mind has needed a rest.
“Do you usually just walk around with a deck of cards in your back pocket?”
I nod in confirmation. “A wise man once said, carry a deck of cards with you at all times, and you’ll never be bored a day in your life.” I pluck the pack from her hands and slide the cards out, and begin shuffling.
“Your choice, Tor. What are we playing?”
We’ve played for hours. Solitaire, Go Fish, Gin Rummy, Cribbage—we have done them all.
I could have won every one, but I wanted to let her have some wins.
Watching her face light up when she beat me did something to me.
We kept the conversation light, no deep questions, no mention of why she was here.
If she wanted to open up to me, I’d listen.
Being here distracted me from my own thoughts.
I couldn’t tell you if I’d had time to process and mourn Scotty yet.
Aside from that night on the bathroom floor with Brad, it’s the only time I have let myself feel.
I just have to push aside the nightmares.
In my line of work, there wasn’t time or space to grieve.
You acknowledge, accept, and then get back to what you do best: the job you trained to do.
There’s a tap at the door, and a doctor in a long white coat and holding a clipboard enters the room with a nurse dressed in blue scrubs.
“Victoria, hi, I’m Doctor Allen. I’m here to discuss your care plan going forward. Is it okay to discuss with your, um…” She gestures to me, but I don’t give Tori the opportunity to answer. I don’t want to put her in that position to make a choice and make her feel bad when she asks me to leave.
I lean over and scoop up the playing cards. “It’s okay, I need to head out anyway.”
Without thinking, I lean down and press a kiss to Tori’s forehead and whisper, “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
She nods in understanding, and I give the Doctor a polite smile before slipping out of the room, hating that I needed to leave her.
“Noah?” I look up to see Harry walking toward me, holding two takeout cups.
“Are you leaving?” he asks before sipping his coffee. He looks tired.
“Yeah, the doctor is in there with her now.” I gesture with my thumb toward Tori’s room.
“Thanks for today, it uh…” His voice cracks, and he worries his bottom lip. I clamp a hand down on his shoulder, and he exhales.
“I know. Anytime, okay? You call, I’ll be here. For both of you.”
“Thanks,” he says quietly. “Jack and Brad are coming into town tonight and want to stop by tomorrow. It would be good if we could all get together, maybe for some drinks.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be in town if you need me at the base,” I confirm.
We part ways, and I make my way out to the parking lot.
The truth is, this town is the closest thing I have to a home.
I stayed at the base here in Greendale Hills because I didn’t have a home; I hadn’t since I left home and joined the Marines.
This became my home, and aside from my sister, these men became my family, and I guess now Tori too.
When I was younger, I didn’t like the idea of settling in one place.
Settling felt like being stuck. My whole life was spent stuck in a home with a mother who preferred men and drink to her own children.
I vowed, when I could get out, I’d always be moving.
I swore I’d never stay stuck, even if that meant I spent my life running, and military life kept me moving, but now I feel like I might have a few reasons to start slowing down.