64. Chapter Sixty-Four
I’ve hardly been able to think straight all day. If I’m being honest, it’s been more than all day. More than just a week. It’s been months. Though, since Chris’s accident, it has gotten worse. And being around Bryson makes me nearly useless.
I’ve tried so hard to let him go. I’ve done everything I can to stop thinking about him, but it’s turning out to be impossible. Staying away from him has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And it’s more difficult now that he’s just down the hall.
He is right down the hall, in his room. I swear I can hear him breathing from here, that’s how close he is.
But it’s clear Bryson wants nothing to do with me. I’m so proud of him for sticking up for himself. For being honest about what he wants. For being strong and honest with me about us. Because hell, if he hadn’t? I don’t think I could either. But I know he doesn’t want this anymore, and that’s a good thing. Because look where it got us.
I fight the urge to get out of bed and go into his room. He must be sleeping by now. It’s nearly four in the morning, but I’ve yet to sleep. I never used to have trouble sleeping, but lately? I can’t seem to get enough. Yet falling asleep is so hard. If he were in here with me, I’d have no trouble sleeping. It’s hard to fight that. It’s not just about being with him, but it’s how he makes me feel when I’m with him. That’s why we fell into each other the way we did.
It wasn’t just sexual, wasn’t just fun. It was how we made each other better, more comfortable. We each give the other a safe space to be ourselves. It’s scary. Dangerous. And wrong.
I get up and go downstairs to make some tea, hoping it’ll help me sleep.
My kitchen actually smells good. Can’t remember the last time it did. Or the last time I saw the counters. When I’d invited Bryson to stay here tonight, I hadn’t thought of the state of my house. Hadn’t thought about it at all until I saw him cleaning. When I got home, I sat right on the couch and watched TV. Didn’t move until he walked in.
I appreciate him cleaning, but what means even more is how he sees me. Knows I’m not okay, and even though he isn’t either, he did what he could to help.
While the kettle is on, I go to the laundry room to swap the laundry and fold what’s in the dryer. I leave everything on the table once it’s folded, and when it’s all done, I’ll put it away.
The water is done when I go back to the kitchen, so I make the tea and bring it upstairs with me. I walk into my room and notice my phone lit up. Putting the mug on the end table, I grab my phone to clear the notification that was probably an email, only to see a missed call from a number that looks like it could be from the hospital.
I swallow hard, wondering why they’d be calling at this time. It can’t be something good.
I call them back right away, cursing at how long it takes to get through to his floor.
The moment someone answers, I blurt out, “This is Cole Harper. I just received a call from you. My son is in your unit, Christopher Harper.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Harper. I’m Cindy, one of the nurses. Hold on for just a moment while I get the doctor.”
I want to argue with her, demand she tell me what is going on, but it’ll be no use. These nurses don’t give any info. I’ve tried. I wait as patiently as I can, pacing my room, wondering what the hell is taking so long.
What is the doctor going to tell me when he gets on the phone?
Bad news?
Good news?
“Mr. Harper? It’s Dr. Connor.”
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Well, it seems Christopher has decided to wake up.”
Wake up? Christopher woke up?
“He woke up?”
“Yes, sir.” I hear the smile in his voice. “Been up about twenty minutes now. We’ve run some tests, and most things seem to be okay.”
“Most things? What does that mean?”
“It’s very common for patients in comas to wake up and be confused. He’s been out a few days now, and that’s disorienting. I’m sure in just a short time he’ll be back to normal.”
“What do you mean, confused?” I urge. There’s something he isn’t saying. He’s a doctor, for fuck’s sake, isn’t he supposed to be direct?
“It’s hard to say right this moment, Mr. Harper. Why don’t you come down to the hospital and we can talk further? Chris was asking for you.”
I blink, freezing in my spot.
“He was asking for me?” I breathe out.
“That’s right,” Dr. Connor says.
“Has anyone called his mother?”
“Yes, one of the nurses just got off the phone with her.”
“And my son is okay?”
“Your son is just fine, Mr. Harper.”
When I end the call, I drop to my knees and cry.
My son is just fine. And he was asking for me.