Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ROMILLY
A tense ache in my skull is the first thing I feel when I wake up.
It’s impossible to ignore—the throb that pulses through every inch of my body, but especially my head.
It feels like it’s been crushed. Every breath I take sends a wave of dizziness through me.
I try to move, but the room tilts too much.
Where am I?
My eyelids flutter open, and for a moment, everything is blurry. The soft beeping of a machine in the background doesn’t make sense at first. I blink a few times, trying to make sense of my surroundings.
White walls.
Clean sheets.
The sterile smell.
It hits me all at once. I’m in a hospital. I frown as I try to piece it together, but the more I think, the harder it becomes to focus and the worse the throbbing feels.
“Miss?” A soft voice startles me. I turn my head, wincing as my neck protests the movement. A nurse is standing by my bed, a sympathetic look in her eyes as she gently touches my arm. “How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know. What happened?”
She smiles gently, but there’s something in her eyes that makes me uneasy. “You hit your head during a fight tonight, and now you have a concussion. But thankfully no skull fracturing or bleeding. You’ve been resting, but we’re going to keep an eye on you through the night before we send you home.”
That’s right. The fight . My head swims with fragmented memories—the lights, the fight among the crowd, and Bash.
Where is he?
“Bash?” I ask, my voice small. I search the room for him, but there’s no sign of him. Just me, in this cold hospital bed, surrounded by the scent of antiseptic. “Where’s Bash?”
The nurse hesitates, looking down at her clipboard. “I’m sorry, but he wasn’t allowed in while we were running your vitals. Family only.”
My heart sinks at the thought. “Can he come in now?”
“That should be fine. Oh, and he sent this for you.” She hands me a folded piece of paper. “He said you might like this. I’ll go get him.”
My heart skips a beat as I take the note and unfold it. The scratchy handwriting is familiar, and something inside me softens just from seeing it. When the nurse leaves me alone, I read the note.
Romilly,
I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.
I wish I could have been, but they wouldn’t let me stay with you.
I wanted to be there. I wanted to hold your hand and tell you everything would be okay, but I couldn’t.
I’m waiting for you to wake up, and I’ll be here as long as it takes.
I’ll never leave you. I promise. Just rest. I’ll be waiting for you.
Love,
Bash
The words make my chest feel light and bubbly. I press the paper to my chest. My hand trembles as the weight of his words settles in. I’ll never leave you. I promise.
It’s simple. But it’s everything.
A few tears I didn’t know I was holding back slip free. But these aren’t tears born from fear or loneliness. They’re tears of relief, of hope, and a deep, aching love I’m still trying to understand.
When in the world did Bash become my everything?
Deep down, I’ve known I love him for a while, but I didn’t realize just how much until this moment.
The sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts, and I turn my head.
Bash is standing in the doorway, his eyes wild with concern.
Not only is he still in his fight shorts and missing a shirt, but there’s a bruise forming on his right eye, and his hair is messy and untamed.
He walks toward me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he’s not careful.
I hold up the note. “You could have just texted me.”
He doesn’t laugh or smile, just hesitates at the side of the bed, his gaze locked on mine.
I reach out, and without a word, he takes my hand, his fingers trembling as they wrap around mine. His grip is firm, but there’s a gentleness to it that makes my heart ache. “Please tell me you’re alright.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m fine. My head hurts a little, but I’m sure it will be better tomorrow.”
He shakes his head, his eyes glassy. “No. You don’t understand. When I saw you in that stretcher after the fight…I thought…I thought you were…” His voice falters. The fear in his eyes is raw and unfiltered. The words hang unfinished between us, but I know what he’s trying to say.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “And I’m completely fine.”
His gaze searches mine. The tension seems to leave his body, just a little. He sits down in the chair beside my bed. “I’m not leaving from this spot until you’re out of here.”
I frown. “What time is it?”
“Midnight.”
“Bash…I’ll be okay. You don’t have to sleep in that chair.”
But he just settles in, ignoring me as if I didn’t speak. He makes a show of getting comfortable, or as comfortable as he can in such a small seat.
I rest my head back and close my eyes.
The hours pass, and if the discomfort of the chair is unbearable, he doesn’t say so. He doesn’t complain. He just stays with me, and I can’t deny his presence is a constant comfort. I drift in and out of sleep, but every time I open my eyes, he’s there with his hooded gaze, holding my hand.
“You’re thinking about something,” he murmurs this time. “What’s going on inside that beautiful head?”
My throat burns with the threat of tears.
It’s so stupid. Because even after everything we’ve been through together, I’m still afraid to admit how I feel about him.
Every sweet moment with Cole comes to mind, along with my heartbreak when he up and wordlessly left me.
Bash and I have already been through more than Cole and I, and I love Bash so much more than I even liked Cole.
So how much more will it hurt if things go badly with him?
I lift my head. My skull practically burns away in the process from searing pain. I try to speak, but as soon as the first tear escapes, his brows draw together. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
I shake my head.
“Come here.” He scoots his chair back and stands, sits on the bed beside me, then opens his arms to wrap me in a hug. The warmth from his bare upper body and the citrus smell of him is so comforting, my shoulders relax.
I don’t hesitate, because letting him hold me is a thousand times better than letting him see me cry.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me.” He murmurs the words into my hair, his voice gentler than I’ve ever witnessed, and it pierces right into my heart.
“Doesn’t this scare you?” I ask.
“Does what scare me?”
“Us?”
I don’t expect his next words, but they come out with no hesitation. “I’ve never been more afraid of anything, pumpkin.”
I risk a peek at his face. “You’re scared, too?”
“Terrified.” His gaze stays steady, like a lighthouse in a storm. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’d never up and leave you the way he did. I’d rather cut my own hand off than ever hurt you. You know that, right?”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. I swallow back my tears. “You were wrong about what you said before.”
“I’m wrong about many things. You might have to narrow this one down.”
I giggle. “You were wrong when you said I liked you.”
“Oh?” He arches a brow.
I rest my face against his chest. “I don’t like you, but I’m afraid I might love you, Bash. Like, way too much.”
He’s silent for a prolonged moment. All he asks is, “You love me?”
A wobbly smile tugs at my lips. “I love you.”
His hand on my back traces circles along my hospital gown as he presses his face against my hair. “I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you since I tumbled into you while you were holding that pot of soup.”
I frown. “But that was the day we met.”
“I know. But you were so gracious about the whole thing. You didn’t even get mad.”
“I could tell it was an accident,” I say.
“You see? You’re so lovable. I was doomed from the start.”
There they are again. Those stupid tears, trickling right down my face. But I can’t deny it—hearing him say it feels better than cuddling with Jasper, or a sweet, fluffy dog. It feels better than baking fresh sourdough or winning a dozen pageants. It’s better than anything I’ve ever been through.
I’m about to sprinkle a thousand kisses across his face when Addison bursts into the hospital room.
She’s breathing heavily like she ran all the way here, and when her gaze lands on me, she exhales loudly.
“You’re okay!” Her voice is just slightly too loud, but her concern for me is so genuine, a new round of tears enters my eyes.
“I’m okay, Adds. Don’t worry.”
“Of course I’m worried!” With a low chuckle, Bash moves aside so she can take his chair next to my bed. Addison reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Do you need anything? What can I get you? Ice, maybe?” Her gaze scans my face like she’s looking for battle wounds.
I laugh lightly. “You’re such a mom now.”
“Oh, stop. This would be me even if I wasn’t, and you know it.”
She has a point. “True. But I’m fine. I can’t believe you’re here.”
She shrugs. “I saw the fight, and when you didn’t text me back, I called Bash. He told me where to find you. Your family is waiting to see you next, since I beat them here. Your mom stopped by your place to pack a bag for you.”
“You called my family?” I frown. “You drove all the way to Boston to see if I was okay?”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “You’re my best friend. Of course I did.” A pause. “And now that I know you’re alright, I’m going to address the very elephant-sized elephant in the room.” She looks pointedly between me and Bash.
I blush. “Um, I don’t know what you’re referring to.”
“Don’t give me that, Romilly Westfall.”
Bash laughs. “Are you referring to my presence? Or something else.”
“You two were, like, this close when I came in here,” says Addison, holding up two fingers with an inch of air separating them. “So either I interrupted something huge, or?—”
“Fine,” I say. “Bash and I are…together now.” I risk a glance at him. He’s staring right back at me with a winning smile on his face.
Addison’s eyes widen. “Like, together for reals?”
I nod. “For reals.”
“With lots of feels,” says Bash.
Addison squeals loudly and claps. I’m surprised she doesn’t get up from her chair to do a cartwheel.
Bash examines his nails. “Addison, has anyone ever told you that you’re much too cheerful to digest on your own, let alone near Romilly?”
Addison shrugs. “A few times, yeah.”
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “He secretly loves it.”
Bash chuckles and crosses his arms. “I’ll give you two some time to catch up and I’ll be out there if you need me.”
When he’s gone, Addison and my family take turns spending time with me. My mom fusses over me like I’m a kid with a broken bone, and I kinda love every second of it. The way she smooths my hair back and kisses my forehead almost makes it feel better.
When it’s Zara’s turn, she crosses her arms and glares at me with loving affection. “You should have been more careful. I only have one sister.”
And it’s no surprise when Aiden comes in and shows me his rank on a new video game he’s been playing. “But I’m really glad you’re okay,” he says.
Outside my door, I hear Bash and Addison arguing over who gets to come in next, and apparently Addison wins, because she beams at me and plops into the chair. We talk about her kids, and how her step-daughter Izzy has finally accepted that Addison isn’t going anywhere.
“It’s such a good feeling,” she says, a dreamy look entering her eyes. “Loving someone and knowing they’ll never stop loving you back.”
At that, I can’t help but smile. I’m still not completely used to the feeling, but even just a taste of it tonight makes my chest feel light and floaty. “Yeah, it really is.”
When she and my family leave, Bash comes back in wearing a T-shirt of a teddy bear holding a balloon that could only be from the gift shop. As soon as our faces meet again, that lightness envelops me completely.
“Your family is going to come back tomorrow,” he says.
“They’re checking into a hotel for the night.
” Glancing down at his feet, he adds, “They’re so wonderful.
They helped me find the best places in Meadow Hills to rent.
Apparently they know someone who’s looking for a tenant. You must be grateful to have them.”
“That’s awesome, and I am.” I gently scoot and pat the spot next to me on the bed. “Come on. Sit up here with me.”
He smiles. “I’ll try, but I might break it.”
“Fine by me.”
Bash half sits, half hangs off the side of the bed next to me. But he stays there. He wraps his arms around me until I fall asleep again, and even though I wake up a few times, the way I feel wrapped up in him like this brings my body, my soul, my heart, more rest than I can remember.
And when I fall asleep praying this time, it’s mostly the same two words over and over.
Thank you.