Chapter 31 #2
“Actually,” the nurse said, “All visitors need to leave. We’re about to start pre-op.” Ava wouldn’t look at me, and when nobody moved, the nurse hung up her manners. “Come on, guys. Let’s go. Right now.”
I took the high road, leaving first, hoping Steven did something stupid to get himself kicked off the premises.
The stiff blue vinyl chairs in the waiting room welcomed me like a row of wasp nests. But seeing Ava alive and breathing eased some of the pressure that had been building since Dad’s call. What’s a few more hours of misery? I just had to lie low.
Steven sat in a matching chair across the room from me, under a wall of smiling portraits probably meant to inspire hope. But their white teeth and glowing faces only pissed me off. Hospitals weren’t happy places.
He pulled out his phone and started tapping.
Lie low. I rubbed my hands down my face, but I couldn’t let it go. “Why are you here?”
He didn’t take his eyes off his screen when he answered, “She lived with me a year before she went home with you.”
“Says the man who got her evicted.”
“Why are you here?” he shot back.
“Why do you think?”
He dropped his phone in his lap and ran his hands through his greasy hair. “The ranch is a mess. It’s too much for her. I’m doing her a favor.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
He scoffed. “Sleeping with her makes you an expert?”
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “How does she take her coffee, Mr. Mercedes?” The scowl he shot back was nothing like the ones Luke could throw. “Guess living with her doesn’t make you one, either.”
Except, he’d made it as her emergency contact. I didn’t even get a text. I wondered if she had planned to tell me at all? Or wait until she was hobbling into the house with a frigging cast and crutches.
I leaned back into my chair. The hallway smelled like lemon cleaning products. The same lemony smell from years ago, forcing up memories like yesterday’s bad beef jerky. I took off my hat. Slapped it on my thigh. How long did leg surgery take?
Steven’s heel started tapping the floor, and the nonstop noise grated on my last nerve. When he glanced over, I glared back.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But it’s not true.”
“What am I thinking?”
That heel … tap, tap, tap. His hands through his hair again. “She showed up before I could–I didn’t–Tires are durable.”
“Not sure what you’re getting at.”
“It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t slash her tires.”
What?
My butt popped outta the seat faster than an automated eject. Steven’s phone slid across the floor, and my knuckles burned where they met his bony face. I had him up against the wall next to all those idiotic portraits before he even had time to blink.
“N-no. I didn’t!” He threw his shaking hands in front of his face. Blood colored his teeth. “I swear. She showed up before–but I wasn’t–I couldn’t–”
“Hey!” A nurse with a head full of black braids shouted as she picked up a phone at her desk. “You two! Break it up.” She was calling security.
Shit! My fist tightened on Steven’s shirt as a red welt appeared on his cheek. I was not getting kicked out because of this pissant.
“You don’t get it,” Steven whined. “My client won’t step down.”
Steven wanted a bodyguard? Fine. I’d give him a bodyguard. “But you will.” Because I suddenly knew without a doubt that I would kill for Ava. “I have a truck, a shovel, and if you even look at her again, I will dump you so far in the middle of nowhere, only the vultures will find you.”
A pair of uniforms showed up. Protective vests and walkies. One had his taser out. I forced my fist open. Then the other, and stepped back, hands up.
Steven shot a finger at me. “He attacked me!”
Officer One put away his taser. “Take a breath, gentlemen. You,” he pointed at Steven, “walk with me.”
“Better check your tires, Mr. Mercedes,” I said as he turned away, just to mess with him.
He looked a little green as they headed down the hall and out of sight.
Officer Two eyed me. “What’s going on here?”
“This guy’s been harassing my–” My what? I couldn’t call her my girlfriend. “My friend. For weeks.”
“How so?”
I ran a hand through my hair, then realized my hat was on the ground. I picked it up and put it back on my head. My heart was hammering. “You gotta kick me out?” Damnit! I didn’t even get to talk to her!
To his credit, the officer seemed genuinely concerned. “Why don’t you tell me about this harassment first?”
I called Dad from a coffee shop across the street. “Hey, so, here’s the thing,” I tugged my hat lower. “I kinda got kicked out of the hospital for hitting Ava’s ex.”
“Whoops.”
“Yeah, well, he had it coming. If Ava calls you for a ride, tell her I’m hanging out to take her home?”
“Okie doke.”
I drank an overpriced cup of coffee and watched Chevy restoration videos on my phone, trying to focus on the fixing instead of how it broke. But unwanted thoughts kept popping up. Did she blame me?
Four hours later, Dad texted an update about Ava’s discharge. Security watched me while I stood by the entrance. A whole dumb process considering I hardly even drew blood.
I saw the bright orange cast first. Knee to foot. Blue scrubs pushed a miserable-looking Ava in a wheelchair through the automated sliding door.
“This is our stop,” the nurse said.
Ava used a set of crutches to stand. Loose fabric shifted down her thighs and hung around her legs. I’d never seen her in a dress before. It was the perfect kind for spinning her under the stars, to watch it fan out. Though if her expression was any hint, we wouldn’t be dancing anytime soon.
My brain must’ve been fried, because the first thing outta my mouth was, “Now you and Nina match.”
Ava didn’t laugh. Or smile. She eyed the uniform behind me. “What’s with the security?”
“Oh. There was an incident in the waiting room.” I folded a hand over the bill of my hat. “With Steven.”
She adjusted the crutches under her arms. “I hope you broke his nose.”
That pulled a small smile out of me. If he were smart, she’d never see him again to find out. “I like your, uh, where’d you get the dress?”
“Bill picked it up for me yesterday.”
I coulda done that. Woulda gladly gone shopping for her. “Do you want me to bring the truck around?”
“No, I’m tired of sitting.”
I grabbed her bag from the wheelchair, and we walked at quarter speed to my truck. “I’m glad you’re okay. Aside from your leg. I was–”
“How’s Nina?”
A laugh covered my frustration. “She’s good. She misses you.” I scanned Ava’s face as she hobbled, her collarbone all covered in dark bruises. “You’re gonna have to tell her. There’s no way the kid’s not gonna see it.”
“I know.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not really. But I’m on lots of painkillers.” Her throat bobbed. “Does it look bad?”
“No, you’re still beautiful.”
She got really still. And not just because we were waiting for the elevator at the parking structure. “I meant, will it scare her?”
I blew out a breath. “She’s gonna know something happened. You should probably tell her the truth.”
Ava nodded. “I plan to.”
“You gonna tell me the truth?”
“About?”
“Why you’re acting weird with me all of a sudden?”
“Look, I really–”
In perfectly crummy timing, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. After people filed out, I held the side so Ava didn’t feel rushed. Same when we got off. Then I held the passenger door to my truck open, but she didn’t accept my help getting in.
I grabbed her crutches. “I’ll throw these in the back.” How did we go from touching each other everywhere to this? It felt like I was losing her.
“I need to go to the salvage yard to get my things,” she said as I pulled out of the lot.
I nodded, already brainstorming how to haul her Chevy back to the ranch. I’d thrown all the equipment in the back last night, because August was right, I’d do anything for her.
When I saw Roxy in the salvage yard, it hurt almost as much as seeing those cuts on Ava’s face. She hobbled to the dented passenger door on her crutches and tried to pull it open.
“I got it.” I ran to assist.
Crunched roof, shattered glass. The story it told syphoned acid straight into my chest. She must’ve flipped the truck, and the bruise on her collarbone was from hanging by a seatbelt.
She picked around the beads of glass, collecting her things from the footwell.
I wrenched open the reluctant driver’s side door to help and pulled the hood release while I was there.
“Do you see my phone anywhere?” she asked.
After some searching, I dug it out from under her seat. At least now I knew why she didn’t respond to my texts. “Before we go, I wanna look at the engine.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Why?”
“It’s totaled.” She could’ve been commenting on the weather. Another scorcher today, folks.
“That doesn’t mean much. Insurance companies total everything.” But when I popped the hood, I discovered a distinct crack along the frame near the steering box.
“See?” she said. High of 115.
“No, I–”
“Your face says it all.” She swung the passenger door shut and hobbled back to my truck with her purse.
“I know some guys who weld.” I grabbed a few photos, then closed the hood and ran to help Ava back into my truck. This time, maybe because her hands were full, she let me. “I bet we could fix it for under five grand.” Free labor, of course. “Maybe not all the bodywork, but …”
“It’s fine, Eli.” She handed me her crutches, then she yanked her seatbelt across her chest and hugged her bag to her stomach.
I didn’t get it. Ava loved her truck. I just needed a clue. Something to explain what was going on in her head. “These trucks are solid. They–”
“I said it’s fine!”
Finally, an emotion, but not the one I expected. Her words echoed across the rusted metal graveyard, over hundreds of vehicles, all decrepit and forgotten. But her truck carried stories and memories. It didn’t belong with bottomed-out Buicks and boxy, doorless Corollas.
“I’m gonna get a guy to come look at the frame. If he can weld it, I think we should buy it back for scrap.”
She dropped her face into her hands, her fingers digging into her scalp.
“Hey.” I lowered my voice. “If it’s fixable, I want to fix it.”