31. Nolan
NOLAN
“ N olan .” My mom hisses my name as I glare at the doctor typing away on his computer in the corner of the room.
The man must sense my irritation because his shoulders are drawn up closer to his ears and his face is about two inches from the computer screen as if he needs to be that close to concentrate. “Stop it,” she insists.
“I’m not doing anything.” Yet. But I want to. I want to take the fucker’s neck in my hands and wring it. What the hell does he mean she’s fucking fine? There’s a massive bruise on the side of her face, stretching from her forehead down the length of her jaw, and a fractured wrist.
“You’re practically growling like an animal,” she snipes at me again and then smacks my arm. “I’ve had enough.”
I look down at her and sigh. “I’m just…” Worried? Fucking terrified?
Her face softens and her hand turns gentle as she pats the place she just whacked me. “I know, honey, but I promise. I’m all right. It’s just a few bumps and bruises.”
Dr. O’Brien finishes whatever he’s typing on the computer and turns back to us. “Your mother is right, son,” he says. “She’s been a nurse as long as you’ve been alive. She knows what she’s saying.”
“Doctors and nurses are usually the worst patients,” I reply.
The older man with a gray patchy beard chuckles and approaches the bedside. “Too right, I suppose,” he agrees readily enough. My shoulders release some of their tension as he pulls out a penlight and shines it directly in my mom’s eyes. “Follow the light, Eliza.”
“Do you really think this is necessary, Charlie?” she asks with a huff.
Her familiarity with the man doesn’t absolve him of my annoyance for taking this long, but when he doesn’t correct her and order her to call him Doctor like most of his colleagues might and instead shakes his head in obvious amusement, I dislike the man a little less.
“I think it’s the least you can do to assuage your son’s obvious concern,” Dr. O’Brien replies. His words are another point in his favor.
Mom huffs again and sends me a nasty look as if to silently demand I tell the doctor not to bother.
All I do is stand back and cross my arms. Our quiet standoff is met with the doctor’s ministrations as he jumps into asking her the various questions needed to determine if there are any further injuries—perhaps a concussion from where her head slammed into the side of the door when she was hit from the side.
When he’s done, he nods and clicks off the penlight.
“Well, I’d say you got off lucky, Eliza,” he says, squeezing her shoulder.
“I don’t see any signs of a concussion, but you know what to look out for.
” The man looks at me. “If she suddenly feels dizzy or lightheaded, vomits, has any memory loss or confusion that is out of the ordinary, you bring her back.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ugh.” Mom rolls her eyes. “I told you both that I’m fine.” She holds up her left arm which is already in a cast. “This is the worst of my injuries and I’m right-handed, so it shouldn’t even hinder me too much.”
O’Brien sighs. “I still think you should take a few days off for recovery,” he insists, and I can’t agree fast enough.
“You’re staying home,” I say before my mom can protest. “Doctor’s orders.”
“I’ll write you a prescription for eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen and you’re to take at least three days off. No hardcore physical labor.” He glances over his shoulder at me as he goes back to his computer. “I’m sure your son can see to that.”
“I can.” And I will.
The curtain to the room squeaks as it’s pulled slightly back. I turn in its direction, half expecting to see another one of mom’s nurse friends popping in to check on her. Instead, I’m met with the pale face of Juliet.
“Jules?” I step away from my mom and pause. “Is something wrong?”
Juliet looks at me for a long moment, but instead of answering, her gaze drifts past me to where my mom is sitting up in the patient bed of the temporary room.
“I just wanted to come back and check on you,” she says.
“The nurse at the desk said I could—even though they don’t normally let this many visitors back here. ”
Mrs. Neely is known for being pretty hardcore about the hospital’s policies. I’ll have to thank her when we leave. Stepping towards Juliet, I offer her a smile I’m sure seems weak, but I try to shore up one anyway.
“That was nice of?—”
“Nolan?” my mom interrupts what I’m about to say, and I whirl to face her as she’s peering past me with a curiosity and wicked glint in her eye. Oh no. “Is this your friend?”
“I, uh…”
Juliet takes the opportunity to march past me and stride straight up to my mom’s bedside, holding her hand out. “Hi, Mrs. Pierce,” she begins. “I’m Juliet. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Mom takes Juliet’s hand and grins. “So, you’re the girl he’s been sneaking into my house when I’m not home.”
I close my eyes and groan, long and loud. “ Mom. ”
When I reopen my eyes, Juliet’s face is less pale and more flushed with embarrassment. She carefully extracts her hand from my mom’s. “Uh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
Mom laughs. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, young lady,” she says. “I know who my son is. Now, tell me, are you two dating?”
Juliet’s blush deepens and despite everything I’ve done in my life—killing my father, running drugs for Darrio, fucking up some pretty shit assholes’ lives—nothing can make me feel more human and childlike as my own mother grilling the girl I’m interested in.
“Mom, you’re hurting,” I say quickly, rushing up behind Juliet and gripping her by her shoulders. “I don’t think now is the right time for an interrogation.”
“Oh, I think now is the perfect time,” she replies, still grinning.
“In fact…” She pats her bedside. “Why don’t you have a seat, Juliet?
Let me ask you about all of the things my son gets up to.
He’s pretty sneaky, but I know him well.
Just because the school hasn’t called me in years doesn’t mean he’s given up his wayward tendencies. ”
“Mom!”
Juliet coughs out a chuckle as if she can’t help herself. God, I wish the floor would open up and swallow me fucking whole. I roll my eyes to the ceiling. Unfortunately, neither God nor the universe seems to be listening because nothing happens.
Resigned to my fate, I lower my head back down and release Juliet’s shoulders.
“I’ll put the prescription in and you can pick it up at the hospital pharmacy,” Dr. O’Brien says, taking pity on me as he interrupts the beginnings of my mother’s cross-examination of Juliet.
“Other than that, you’re good to go. So long as you have someone at home that can look after you. ”
“I’ll look after her,” I say quickly. “Thank you, Dr. O’Brien.”
The man smiles my way and as he moves to exit the room, he claps me on the shoulder. “Good luck, son. I know how Eliza can be. You’re going to need it.”
Fuck me, but I know he’s right.
Thankfully, though, thirty minutes and an untold amount of probing questions later, my mom is bundled into a wheelchair and clutching her prescription in hand as I roll her through the double doors towards the waiting room of the hospital.
Juliet remains quiet and a step behind us as we leave the building.
“The insurance company will be sending me a rental in a few days,” Mom chatters on. “Thank goodness there were traffic cameras to prove I wasn’t at fault—not that it wasn’t clear from the damage, but you know how those stingy insurance people can be.”
“Well, you won’t need to drive anywhere for the foreseeable future,” I reply as Lex and Gio go to grab the SUV. “The doctor said you’re staying home for the weekend.”
“Three days.” She groans. “I’m sure when I do come back, they’ll have me sitting at the desk and refuse to let me move around much.”
“As they should,” I remind her. “You were in an accident.”
“It was a little one,” she insists. “I was lucky.”
“Lucky?” I jump a little at Juliet’s voice and turn to look at her.
Her eyes are locked on my mom’s wrist—the one in the cast. Mom laughs and waves it around. “Oh yeah, it could have been much worse, honey. My arm could’ve been broken, but it’s only a fracture.”
“Yeah.” Juliet’s face looks a little green. “You’re right.”
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, stepping towards her. I raise my hand to touch her forehead, but she backs up.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite her words, her arms come up and wrap around herself as if to ward off a chill. It’s pretty cool outside, but it’s not snowing yet and she’s wearing a loose jacket that had seemed to keep her pretty warm at the game.
The lights of Lex’s SUV roll around the corner and the vehicle stops at the curb. Gio pops out of the passenger seat and widens the door as I help my mom stand and usher her into the front.
“This is so ridiculous. I’m not an invalid, boys,” she protests as I hold out my hand. “The wheelchair is a policy—not really necessary.”
Her complaints are ignored as I help her into the car. Once she’s strapped in and buckled, I close the door behind her and turn to Juliet. “What’s wrong?” I demand.
Gio’s eyes widen and he glances between us. “What’s wrong with what?” he asks.
Juliet looks back at me silently. Then her gaze shifts to the vehicle where my mom waits for us. “Not here,” she mutters, cutting past me to the back seat.
I watch her go with narrowed eyes and Gio frowns.
Juliet pops open the back seat and slides straight to the middle.
I want to yank her back out and demand she tell me what’s going on, but one look at my mom and I know Juliet’s probably right.
When we get her alone, then we can deal with whatever she’s thinking.
Gio hops into the back seat right behind my mom as I round the car and slide in behind Lex.
Mom chatters aimlessly, asking how Lex is doing in school and thanking him for driving her home and asking after G’s mom.
They’re all too happy to keep her focused on the short trip, leaving me to stare at the woman next to me as a sneaking suspicion creeps into my mind.
By the time we pull up to my house, I’m ready to drag Juliet to a quiet place and force a confession out of her. Unfortunately, I have other responsibilities first—such as getting my mom into the house and set up in her room with a glass of water and the first pill down her throat.
“I really don’t need it, Nolan,” she huffs as I fluff the pillows at her back. “I’m just fine.”
“The doctor gave them to you for a reason,” I insist. “If you don’t take one then I’ll stuff it down your throat if I have to.”
Mom glares at me. “I should take a switch to your behind, Nolan Pierce.”
“I’ll happily bend over for it if you take your damn medicine,” I say, holding out a glass of water and the prescription bottle.
She uncrosses her arms and reaches for it.
I release it easily enough, lips twitching as she struggles to open it.
After long seconds of increasing frustration on her part, she holds it back out to me with a meaningful glare.
I take it without a word, knowing that had I just opened it in the first place, she would’ve complained about me treating her like an invalid.
Quickly snapping open the bottle, I shake one horse-sized pill from the container into her free hand.
Popping the pill into her mouth and chugging half the glass, she puts it back on the nightstand.
“There,” she says. “Happy?”
“Immensely,” I deadpan.
As I reach to turn off her lamp, she stops me with a hand to my wrist. “Nolan, I really am all right,” she says, her voice softer than before.
For a moment, I can’t say anything. When I’d heard she’d been hurt, all I’d been able to think of was all the things I’d do, everything I’d bargain with to make sure she was safe.
Knowing she was lucky and relatively unhurt puts me at ease, but that initial panic is still in my system.
All of the what-ifs of our circumstances circle around and around in my head.
What if she hadn’t been as lucky?
What if the other driver had hit her dead-on instead of on the side?
What if she’d been hit harder on the head and it had caused a brain bleed?
“Sweetie.” Mom’s voice drags me out of my thoughts as her fingers tighten on my wrist and she pulls my hand away from the lamp. “Take a breath.” I do, but the air doesn’t seem to reach my lungs. So, I take another. “That’s it,” she encourages me. “Just like that—in and out.”
I blink hard as I stare down at her. “You’re really okay?” The question is a quiet one, but she hears it.
“Yes,” she says. “I’m perfectly fine. These things happen. I should know—I see it every time I go into work.”
This time, when I inhale, it fills my chest cavity. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. She smiles at me. “Better?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Better.”
Mom pats my hand. “Good. Now, you go out there and tell the boys I’m fine. With all of this excitement, I’m tired and I want to rest.”
“Tired?” I frown at her. “Do you think?—”
She waves her fingers at me. “No, I don’t think it’s a concussion,” she says. “I think it’s all of those shifts I’ve been pulling and the adrenaline crash. Wake me up later if you’re worried, but I truly am fine.”
“I’ll wake you up before I go to bed,” I still insist.
Her only response is a grunt as she reaches over and clicks the lamp off. I back out of the room and close the door behind me, resting my head on the wood that separates us for a single moment before standing up straight and turning in the direction of the living room—where Juliet waits.