Chapter 29 Amy #2
“Not you, dude,” she snarls. “You should go get your nose checked out instead of hanging around—or hit the road, like I keep saying.”
I narrow my eyes, craning for a glimpse of the action. She’s talking to Esteban, I realize. His nose? What happened to his nose?
The door squeals on its hinges and I brace myself, expecting Esteban to burst into the room despite my sister’s orders.
I look up. It’s Lewis. As he takes a nervous step toward me, my heart flutters in my chest, and I hate how my body betrays me every single time.
There’s a serious look in his eyes as he takes me in, his gaze drifting from my head down to my toes, and he lets out a sigh, like he’s been holding his breath for days on end.
“Amy…”
I hate how intensely he says my name.
Stop.
The crash may have broken a few of my bones, but I haven’t forgotten all the feelings I have for him—ones he doesn’t share. I haven’t forgotten how he screwed me over, either.
I close my eyes for a moment before looking back at him.
“Do I know you?”
I had a concussion, after all…
“I’m the guy you’re madly in love with, remember?”
“Go fuck yourself!” I snap.
He definitely knows you remember.
“Seems like your memory works just fine.”
“Trust me—I wish it didn’t.”
The light shifts in his eyes. “I can’t help it if I’m so totally unforgettable.”
“You…”
I don’t even know what to say to that.
Why is he here?
Last time we saw each other, he slut-shamed me and I slapped him.
“You look like you got hit by a truck.” He perches by the side of my bed, trying to keep his tone light, playful, but he sounds weird.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game to play or some far-flung state to visit, or something?”
I was aiming for bitchy, but I just sound sad.
“I had a game last night.”
“Right,” I drawl. “So, I’m guessing you guys lost—why else would you be here?”
“I didn’t play. I’ve been sitting here in this hospital since you were admitted.”
I start. He sounds so tired. Worry flits over his features, his eyes full of concern. I blink a couple of times. Maybe the morphine is playing tricks on me.
“You must be so relieved—turns out your favorite toy isn’t broken.”
He shuts his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.
I know this is the wrong time and place to bring this up, but I can’t help it.
What’s the point in going through all this again, though?
I don’t need him to open up—what I need is to get some distance from it all and to get my life back on track.
I’m tired of arguing with him. I’m tired of arguing with myself.
“I was right there when you crashed,” he says through gritted teeth. “I called for help; I held your hand when they lifted you out of the car. You were limp, Amy. I thought you were d—”
Panic courses through me.
“Is the car okay?” I jolt up, instantly regretting it.
My ribs feel like they’re about to cave in. Don’t move. I let out a moan as a wave of nausea comes crashing over me, shooting pain hammering at my skull.
“Want me to call a nurse?”
“No. I just need rest.”
He gets up and reaches for the bed remote. “Let me help you lie down.”
“I can take it from here,” I snap, and my plan is to bat his hand away, but my arm doesn’t move.
Fucking annoying.
He stands there hovering over me, that same strange light shining in his eyes.
Who is this guy, and what has he done with Lewis?
“Amy, I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for two days now.” He sighs. “If you think I’m just gonna head home like nothing happened, maybe the doctors need to check your brain again.”
“Cut the crap, Lewis. We both know you don’t give a shit.”
He frowns. “Excuse me? I was so scared back there, Amy! So scared…” His voice rises a notch. “Whatever you think you know—you’ve got it all wrong.”
He’s being honest with me, I can tell. But that doesn’t change the facts—I’m in love with the guy, and a near-death experience doesn’t change that.
“That’s the thing.” I shrug. “I think I’ve been getting it wrong from the start.”
“Same here. I thought…” He sighs. “Should we take it from the top?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m not leaving until we’ve had an actual conversation. If you’d just listened to me, instead of driving like a bat out of h—”
“I think it’s time for me to take my sleep meds.”
My thumb finds its way to the call button, and he takes a deep breath in, but before he can say a word, the nurse has appeared by my bedside. Now that’s what I call service.
“Everything okay in here?”
“I’m in agony,” I whine, pulling my most extravagant wince.
She fiddles with my drip and hands me two pills, her eyes sliding over to Lewis.
“Good call,” she whispers.
“You can have him—he’s not my boyfriend,” I hiss.
“I’m her boyfriend.”
He shoots the nurse a smile, tapping on his temple, flagging my head injury.
Why does he keep saying we’re a thing?
“Can you get him out of here?” I plead.
“Nuh-uh.” Lewis jumps to his feet. “I’m not done here. I need to tell you that—”
“I’m tired. Plus, I’m feeling dizzy…”
The nurse glances back and forth between us, undecided. She knows I’m full of shit—but she’s a slave to the sisterhood, too.
“Okay, young man. That’s enough for today. Let her get some rest before you try winning her back.”
She heads for the door, shooting me a knowing wink as she goes.
Winning me back? Oh, lady—you have no idea!
Lewis is sulking, but he’s keeping his game face on all the same.
“You win this round, Hitman. But watch your back—I’m coming for you. You better get ready.”
I’m lost. The way this guy blows hot and cold is too confusing.
“Lewis, I honestly think we’re done here,” I start.
“Can we please just drop this? Everything was going great for me until I met you—I knew where I was headed, and then you showed up with all your Campus Drivers crap, looking amazing and everything. And it suddenly felt like I needed you to be happy. Look where that got me.”
His eyes flood with pain and regret, and something strangely like hope lurches in the pit of my stomach. He’s taking a step back toward the door, when something occurs to me.
“I heard my sister say something about Esteban’s nose—what happened?”
“I hit him.” He shrugs. “Square in his dumb-fuck face. Just goes to show you can have as many tattoos as you like—doesn’t make you hard. In any shape or form,” he adds.
When he reaches the doorway, he casts me one last lingering look.
“I’ll give you a head start, Hitman. But I’ll catch up with you—be sure of that.”
The door swings shut behind him, and I sit there staring into space.
“I need to tell you that—”
Tell me what? Regret is nudging at me now. I wish so badly I had let him finish what he started.