Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sloane
“Knock, knock!” Ryan’s voice echoed off the linoleum floor as he stood in the doorway of my hospital room.
I’d been dreading his visit ever since Dr. Warneke, assisted by Major Branson, convinced me to let him come. If Uncle Sam hadn’t agreed to pay for his trip, I wouldn’t have allowed him to spend his own money, but since the military agreed to transport him, I didn’t have a compelling argument why I didn’t want my friend to visit me.
I knew any reason I gave for not wanting him there would land me in the therapist’s office before the end of the day. And I’d been avoiding her like the plague.
But looking at him, in the flesh, I conceded, I was glad to see him.
“Hey! You made it!”
“I did,” he said as he stepped inside my room. I appreciated that he didn’t hesitate to come toward me as I struggled to sit up in bed.
“Any problems with the flight?”
“Not a one.” He patted my right shoulder. “How you feeling?”
“Like a hamburger that was left on the grill too long.”
“Ouch.” He looked me over from head to toe, then added, “Yeah, you look like it, too.”
That made me laugh out loud, which I discovered caused my cheeks to hurt. Apparently, I hadn’t smiled very wide since burning my face off.
That seemed fitting.
“Fuck you.”
I noticed the backpack slung over his shoulder when he pulled it off and set it in the chair behind him.
“Were you able to check into the hotel?”
“Yeah, they were really helpful and let me have my room early.”
I nodded toward his backpack.
“So, what’s that?”
“I brought care packages from home.”
I looked back at the bag with dismay, knowing damn well there was something in there from Ashley.
Still, I said, “That was nice of everyone.”
He reached for the backpack, asking, “Do you want them now?”
“Nah, catch me up on what’s going on with you. How’s my dog? You get Grace to go on a date with you yet? What about Craig and Maddie—did they run off and get married?”
“Oh, buddy. I definitely need to bring you up to speed.”
~~~~
After Ryan filled me in with Tank’s latest antics, what was happening with him and Grace, and that Craig and Maddie had gotten engaged over Thanksgiving weekend, he softly said, “And Ashley—”
I cut him off. “I should have ended things before I left, but I was too selfish.”
“She loves you, buddy.”
“I’m not the man she fell in love with, Ryan. That man is gone. Fucking look at me.”
“Do you really think she’s so shallow that it would matter?”
“She deserves a man who can take care of her; make her feel safe in his arms. Someone she can have children with.”
His eyes got big, and he blatantly stared at my crotch. “Did you lose your…?”
“No! But I’m not going to put a kid through having a freak show for a dad. Or a wife, for that matter.”
“So, you’re just going to be alone for the rest of your life?”
“Yep,” I said mulishly.
“I think you’re a fool. But you’ve been through a lot, so I’m going to give you a pass. For now.”
Ryan unzipped his backpack, pulled out a six-pack of boxer-briefs and laid it on the table in front of me.
“These are from Craig. He said he wanted to make sure your balls didn’t freeze in Germany.”
I snorted a laugh, and he reached inside the bag again. This time he produced a tablet-looking thing.
“This is from Grace.”
I narrowed my eyes as he set it next to the underwear.
“What is that?”
“It’s a Kindle. She loaded a bunch of books for you to read. She said it helped her to escape to other worlds when she was recovering from her accident, so she hoped it will help you.”
“Thank God! I have been so bored. Tell her she’s a lifesaver.”
“Well, you know Maddie,” he said as he reached in the backpack again and this time, produced an obvious tablet. “Not to be outdone. She got you this tablet. It’s got like hundreds of games, movies, and TV shows preloaded on it.” He set it next to the other gifts then rifled through the bag again until he found what he was looking for. Holding up a small black case he said, “She sent earbuds, too, but,” he made a point of looking at the left side of my head that was bandaged, “it looks like you’ll only need one.”
“You are a fucking comedian.”
But truth be told, I appreciated that he wasn’t pussyfooting around the obvious.
“And she who shall not be named, sent you…” He grinned and put his hand back in the bag like it was Santa’s sack, then pulled out a bundle of grey and black fleece socks with grips on the bottom. “Some socks to keep your foot warm.”
I didn’t miss that he said “foot” instead of “feet”.
He continued his stand-up routine. “I guess on the bright side, you’ll be able to go twice as long without washing your socks.”
Even though I grumbled, “You’re such a dick,” I did it with a slight grin.
“She also sent you…” This time he pulled out a plastic container. “Your favorite. Cheesecake.”
Talk about a sucker punch. I couldn’t smell her perfume or taste her dessert.
It was probably just as well.
I must have frowned, because Ryan put the container down and said, “What? Since when isn’t it your favorite?”
“Since I lost my sense of smell, and everything tastes like shit.”
“Dude… that sucks.” But instead of finally joining me in my pity party, he shrugged. “I can eat it for you.”
“I still have a good fist, you know.”
“Yeah,” he smirked. “But you’d have to catch me first.”
“Asshole,” I snarled under my breath.
He waved a familiar pink envelope at me.
“She also sent a letter.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t want it.”
That was such a lie. I wanted it with every cell of my being. Just like I wanted her. But I couldn’t have her. Not anymore.
His face grew grim, and his voice serious.
“You need to call her and talk to her. Clear the air, once and for all. If you’re serious about ending things, you owe it to her to at least tell her over the phone, not just ghost her like a little bitch.”
That pissed me off, which I suspected was his intention. I might be legless and disfigured, but I was not a coward.
At least I liked to think I wasn’t. But just as I was about to say with bravado, “Get me a phone,” the little voice in the back of my head asked, “And say what?”
Finally, I confessed with a whisper, “I don’t know what to say to her, Ryan. She deserves better, but I know if I try to tell her that, she won’t listen.”
“Because she loves you, dumbass.”
“She needs to move on.”
My friend shrugged with a sad smile. “Then tell her that. She deserves to hear it from you.”
His cell phone rang. “Oh, hey. Speak of the devil.”
I narrowed my eyes to glare at him. “You planned this.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Man up, buttercup,” then said, “hello?” into the phone.