25. Raina
25
RAINA
T ime marched on.
I went to school with Foster; I rode with him while he delivered pizzas; I sat in his sister s room while he read her bedtime stories; I hung out with him and his friends when he visited them; and I lounged around the hospital when he went to see my body, exercising my arms and legs so I wouldn t get another blood clot.
And every three days, they d check my brain to see if it was a good time to stop inducing my coma. After the second check, they decreased my anesthesia, but I kept sleeping.
The second Friday after classes had started and exactly fourteen days after my car accident, I was poking my way around my hospital room while Foster concentrated on bending my knee and then straightening it.
Hey, what is this? I asked, coming upon a plastic hospital bag that was lying on a lower shelf under the machine that kept a constant vigil on my vitals.
Foster glanced over. Looks like your personal effects, maybe.
Really? I straightened with interest. Ooh, I want to see. Can you dump it out for me?
Hell, no, he argued. It d be like going through a woman s purse. I can t breach that kind of personal space.
Oh, my purse! I hope it s actually in there.
Not doing it, he swore.
But I m right here with you, giving you permission. Foster... Come on. Please . When I fluttered my eyelashes at him, he lifted his eyebrows, not at all swayed.
I wouldn t even know how to begin to explain myself if someone walked in and caught me going through your things.
Ugh. Groaning out an irritated breath, I balled my hands into fists. You re so freaking…moral, I muttered, not appreciating his oh-so-virtuous integrity at the moment. It s frustrating as hell.
All he did was shrug. Sorry.
Bending down to peek through the opening at the top of the half-closed bag, I cried, Hey, I think I can see my phone. Oh, my phone… Missing it hard, I hugged my hands to my heart, then spun to glare at Foster sternly.
I m sure the battery has died after this much time, he answered logically. And I don t have a charger on me, so there s no reason to pull it out now, anyway.
Damn. He was such a practical pain in the butt. Ignoring my irritation, he moved on to my second leg, picking it up under the knee so he could bend it; but his fingers were so gentle and scraped along my flesh in such a way that I jumped.
Gah, that tickles.
Sorry. He set my leg down and sighed, sending me a vexed, tight-jawed glance. You re just bound and determined to get me kicked out of this hospital, aren t you?
When he stepped toward me, I squealed and clapped excitedly, knowing he d given in to my request. Foster was such a softy. He pretty much always gave me what I wanted, no matter how much he objected at first. In the last week, he d even started sleeping without a shirt each night. I mean, I hadn t gotten him to shed the shorts, but given enough time…maybe.
Oh my God, I gushed jubilantly as he approached. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Yeah, yeah, he grumbled with a sigh. Go scout the area.
I frowned. But how am I supposed to see what s in the bag if I m out scouting?
He sent me a look. Will you just make sure no one s coming , please?
Right. Okay. I popped into the hallway, then immediately popped back beside him. All clear.
With a defeated huff, he dumped the bag s contents onto the floor without preamble. Look fast, he warned. Because I m putting everything back right now.
Will do… My brain spun as I tried to take in all the contents at once, latching onto my purse, then my phone, a necklace.
My things, I croaked, clutching my chest and getting misty-eyed. God, I miss my things.
Fuck, I knew this was a bad idea, Foster complained as he shoved the purse back into the bag. His gaze sought mine with worry. He truly hated anything that caused me agony.
I m okay, I assured him. It s just…hard.
I know, he murmured, reaching for a set of keys that was the last thing for him to pick up.
No clothing had been saved. They must ve had to cut everything off me, and it d been too bloody and ruined to salvage.
Shuddering over the thought, I focused on the keys in Foster s hand before crying, Wait!
He paused, glancing up in confusion. What?
Those are the keys to my apartment, I said.
His brow furrowed as he glanced down at them in his palm. Yeah…?
Can we go there? I asked. I haven t been home in two weeks. I have a plant to water. Laundry to clean. Food spoiling in the fridge.
Raina— He started uneasily, already begging me with his eyes not to press the subject.
No, listen, I cut in. Look at how long I ve been here. When I motioned to my body on the bed, he glanced at it with a cringe. The likelihood of me waking up after this amount of time has decreased dramatically.
Don t, he pleaded, his eyes filling with torment. Don t say that.
It s true, I said steadily. And we have to face the facts. I may never go home again. So I just—I don t want the captain to have to throw out spoiled milk and a dead plant or pick up my dirty underwear when he goes to clean out my apartment.
Tears filled Foster s lashes, and his chin trembled. How about you just wake up, then? he suggested in a broken voice before savagely brushing a hand over his face to dry it. How about that ?
I reached out and touched his cheek. I wish I could.
His eyes closed, and he shuddered out a long breath, just as one of his favorite nurses walked into the room.
Oh shit. Incoming, I warned, all too late.
Foster opened his eyes and lurched to his feet, caught with my bag of personal effects in one hand and my keys in the other.
I—I m so sorry. I must ve bumped into the cart and spilled everything out of the bag, he fumbled to explain.
Features crumpling with sympathy, Darlene hurried forward. Oh, sweetie. It s okay. No harm done. Did we get everything? she asked, scanning the floor as Foster handed her the bag.
I think so, he said, pocketing the keys without her noticing.
Thrilled that he d given in to me yet again, I clapped silently without him noticing and jumped merrily to celebrate my win.
In front of the nurse, Foster wiped his eyes some more and shrugged helplessly. I don t know why today s so hard.
Aw, baby, she murmured pitifully. Come here. When she opened her arms for a hug, he stepped forward and wrapped the older woman in his embrace.
At first, I thought he was playing so she wouldn t notice that he d stolen my keys, but then I saw the emotion on his face, and I realized he was honestly trying to get himself under control.
Guilt sliced through me. If I d never appeared to him or remained stuck with him, he wouldn t be going through this right now. He d still know nothing about me, and he wouldn t have to ever worry about mourning for me.
I had truly, honestly messed up his life, hadn t I?
When he pulled away from Darlene, he offered her a grateful smile and wiped his face. Thank you. I, uh, I think I m going to go now.
That s fine, dear. You go ahead. We ll take good care of her.
Thank you. He nodded and then turned to look at my body. They d removed the gauze from my head, and the bruises on my face had faded; I looked more and more like myself every day.
Foster s eyes were red, however, and I thought he was going to cry again. But all he did was smooth a hand over my temple and then lean down to kiss my brow.
I touched the wet spot he d left on my forehead.
When he straightened and turned toward the doorway, he looked directly at me. But there was no smile or joy on his face. He was absolutely miserable.
I d broken the grinning, cheerful Foster I d always seen in pictures and interviews.
Feeling shitty, I trailed after him as he stalked into the hall. After getting into the elevator, he continued to ignore me.
Staring stonily up at the numbers above the door, he finally said, I just stole from a girl in a coma, straight from her hospital room.
You didn t steal anything, I insisted pragmatically. I straight-up asked you to take them.
And I talk to people who aren t there, he told the numbers, still refusing to look at me. I m a hallucinating, home-invading thief.
Yep. I d definitely broken him.
God, Foster, I murmured, stepping forward to wrap my arms around his waist and then press my cheek to his shoulder. I m so sorry that I m putting you through this.
He didn t even bother to lift his arms. He just stood there limply and let his head hang as he said, I can t even hug you back. Stiffening, he clenched his teeth and hissed, I can t hold you at night. I can t even fucking smell you when you step close. Dammit, Raina. You can t die. Not until, like, seventy years after I ve gotten to do all that.
I m sorry, was all I could answer. I m so sorry.
A shudder went through him as he heaved out a single sob. But then the elevator stopped, and the door opened.
Wiping his face one last time, he set his hand on his ribs and exhaled. Then he left the elevator and strode out of the hospital.
At his truck, he started the engine before glancing over at me. Where to? he asked simply.
And I jumped. Right. You have no idea where I live. Okay. It s on East Peach Tree. Eight, twenty-six. I m in the seafoam green apartment complex with the white trim and gray roof. It s just a couple of blocks from campus, so I usually like to take Bridleway and walk to class. I shrugged. Unless the weather s bad.
Nodding silently, Foster put the truck into gear and started us down the street. When he didn t say anything else, I told him about the time I d seen a post on his social media page, featuring him running a 10K, so I had tried to start jogging too, mapping a path along Bridleway, only to give up again a week in.
He sent me a sad smile as if he didn t think I d ever get to run another mile.
Twenty minutes later, he motioned out the front windshield. This place?
I nodded. Yep. This is home. Oh! And there s my car. The white one.
The Mazda? he asked, parking next to it.
It was my high school graduation present from the captain, I explained.
It s nice. He pulled my set of keys from his pocket after he turned off his truck. Did you have a job? I mean— Closing his eyes briefly, he winced and then glanced at me. Do you have a job here in Westport?
I shrugged. Yeah. It s not much, though. I work at the printing store a couple of blocks away, making copies for people. But scholarships, grants, and the captain support me more than anything.
Foster nodded, then heaved out a breath before opening his door and climbing from the truck. I popped out next to him just as he lifted the key fob in his hand and pressed the unlock button. When my Mazda honked back in greeting, I cocked my head curiously.
What re you doing?
Moving it, he answered. Just to a different parking spot so no one thinks it s abandoned and tries to have it towed or anything.
Oh. I nodded in appreciation. Thanks.
Foster merely bobbed his head in acknowledgment, and I started to wring my hands, not liking this silent thing he had going on. I had definitely asked too much of him, hadn t I?
I glanced around for Kinsey s car too, but it was gone. The captain must ve taken care of it already.
Damn.
Refusing to think about that, I popped into the passenger seat of my car to sit next to Foster as he moved it.
I m sorry, I said as he parked on the other side of his truck. Killing the engine, he glanced over at me, and I flailed my hand aimlessly. I m sorry you re stuck with me. I m sorry you re the only person who can do anything for me. And I—I m sorry you only got to know me long enough to lose me again.
Wincing through a swallow, Foster held out his hand, palm up, offering for me to hold it. When I did, taking his fingers and squeezing them tight, he exhaled heavily.
Don t ever be sorry for that, he told me. I m a better person for having gotten to know you. And I m— I m the one who s sorry for not meeting you sooner.
You have nothing to be sorry for either, I assured.
He dropped his gaze to our hands and watched me run my fingers over his for a few seconds before admitting, I m still disappointed the kiss thing didn t work.
I blurted out a laugh, only to tip my face up primly and answer, Well, maybe you re just not my one true love.
His gaze cut to mine, and this sensation pierced through me so strongly that it almost felt as if I d been electrocuted. But those blue eyes looked into me, and I knew…
If this man wasn t my true love, then I didn t have one.
You tethered yourself to me , he argued in a way that claimed ownership.
And I had to blink in surprise because I kind of relished this possessive side of him.
That s gotta mean something , he insisted.
My lips moved and words tried to come, but it took me a moment before I was able to stutter, S-so do you actually want us to be true loves?
I… He blinked back as if startled to realize that he sort of had implied that. I m saying I want to be able to meet the real you.
I shook my head, confused. You don t think this is the real me?
Foster shrugged. I don t know. You don t have any physical limitations or social restrictions holding you back while you re in this state. In person, you might be…different.
Needing to understand what he was actually trying to say, I shook my head. So… Do you want me to be different? Do you not like how I am now?
No, I love you this way, he answered immediately. I love your heart, your attitude, your sense of humor. Hissing out a breath, he sent me an apologetic glance. It s probably just me being paranoid, but I guess I—I m scared you won t be so accepting of me . I m just afraid it ll be…different.
Different, how? I pressed.
He only shook his head. I don t know. I m sure I m just freaking out over something that may never happen. I just—I don t want to lose this you.
My heart thumped hard in my chest when he sent me a worried look as if afraid I would reject him right then and there. But all I could say was, You re not going to lose me.
Promise? he begged.
I pinky swear, I told him before hooking my pinky around his and tightening my grip.
He grinned and kept looking into my eyes. Good, he murmured softly.
I nodded back. When an overwhelming pleasure filled me, I laughed, embracing it fully.
Foster just made me…happy.
Still smiling, I leaned over and smacked a quick happy kiss to his cheek before teasing, Just make sure you get to my hospital room before your friend, Parker, does, if you actually want to ask me out.
And laughing, I popped out of my car to land on the sidewalk in front of it.
Foster pointed at me in warning through the windshield, then opened his door, calling, Don t you dare say yes to him. Raina …
As he climbed from the Mazda, I smirked and turned away to start toward the building.
Raina, he said again, hurrying after me, only to realize some guy was exiting the building and had heard him saying my name.
Foster cleared his throat and faltered a step before tipping up his face in greeting as the other guy sent him a leery look. Hey, man. How s it going?
That s my neighbor, Linden, I explained.
Have a good day, Linden, Foster said, and when Linden squinted in surprise, Foster saluted him.
Then Foster turned away and walked off, leaving poor Linden scratching his head in confusion.
I think he gave my sister a joint the last night she was here. Which reminds me… I bet the butt is still lying on my balcony right now. Do you think you could pick it up and throw it away when we get up there? I really don t want the captain to think it s mine.
I ll take care of it, Foster assured as he slowed to a stop and glanced at the three different outdoor stairwells connected to the front of the building. Which way?
Over here, I pointed, leading the way to the middle one. I m on the second floor in 2G.
2G, he repeated with a thumbs-up. Got it.
I led him up the stairs and straight to my door, where he held up one of my keys. This one?
Yep.
He slotted the key into the lock, and it turned with ease. But the moment he started to pull the door open, I held up a hand. Wait.
Foster glanced at me with lifted eyebrows.
I cringed. Please don t judge, but I m not exactly neat.
His features softened into a smile. You ve been bunking with me for the past two weeks. You re fully aware that I can be messy too.
Yeah, but— Whimpering as he pressed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside, I fisted my hand into a ball and pressed it to my mouth.
Foster paused in the doorway. Oh, wow.
I know, I groaned. I m a freaking slob.
But he only shrugged and stepped the rest of the way inside, shutting the door behind him. It s mostly just clothes, he said as he walked through the front room. Which makes sense with the way you can never decide what to wear.
Hey, I cried in outrage.
Foster only grinned over his shoulder at me. What? You change outfits, like, a dozen times a day.
Only because I can , I argued. And because I hate making fashion decisions.
Picking up the first pile I had draped over a side chair, he answered, Clearly.
I narrowed my eyes but then followed him as he gathered all the clothing in my front room like some kind of mother hen and started to carry them into the bedroom.
I can t believe you re actually doing this for me, I said, biting my lip and feeling guilty all over again for asking so much of him. I owe you so big for this.
Winking at me, he answered, I ll take an hour-long back scratch in payment if you don t mind.
Done, I swore.
And he grinned. Sweet.
From there, he carried on, spending the rest of the evening cleaning my apartment from top to bottom, throwing out expired food, washing my laundry, folding it, putting it away, and taking out the trash. He watered my plant that thankfully wasn t looking too shabby yet, probably because I had the nearly-impossible-to-kill kind. He even packed Kinsey s things back into her bags and piled them neatly in a chair in the front room.
I cried as I watched that part.
On my bed, he found my Sol de Janeiro, Number 62 in the sheets as he straightened the covers, and he had to spritz it into the air, asking, Is this what you smell like?
Usually, yes, I answered as my eyes filled with tears all over again. It s my favorite scent.
Sorry, he said when he saw my face. I didn t mean to?—
He started to set it on my dresser, but I waved my hand, saying, No. It s not that. I was just remembering that last night. I sprayed Kinsey down right before we left for Oaklynn s party, trying to mask the scent of marijuana on her. It was probably still on her when she died.
Sitting on the end of the bed, I hugged myself and shook my head. I can t believe she s gone. Nothing s going to be the same without her when I wake up.
If I woke up.
Foster sat quietly next to me. After Hayes died, he said. It was so hard for me to understand how each new day just kept coming. The sun would rise in the morning and set every night as if it was all business as usual. As if I hadn t just lost one of the most important people in my life. I just—I didn t get it.
You were forced to keep going without him, I realized, glancing over sadly.
He lifted one shoulder. You kind of have to. It feels all wrong, and yet there you go, waking up with the sun each day and growing another number older each year. But I think…
Glancing down at his hands, he paused, so I leaned over to bump my shoulder into his. You think what?
When he looked up at me, he shrugged. I don t know, he answered timidly. I just think maybe, hopefully, he d be happy to see what I became.
He is, I assured. Every night that he visits me, he brags so much about how good at football you are and how good you are with people, how well you help with your family, how loyal and dependable and caring you are. He loves seeing what you ve done with your life.
Foster nodded slowly and then sent me a soft smile. I bet your sister would like seeing you move on too.
Oh, I know she would, I said with a roll of my eyes. She s made a list already of things she wants me to try as soon as I wake up.
Really? What s on it?
Well, there s you, for one.
Me? He pressed a hand to his chest and then grinned. She wants you to try me ?
I laughed and rolled my eyes. Stop looking so shocked. Of course, she does. Then she wants me to skydive and climb a mountain and visit all these places. Mostly it s extreme sports stuff that I have no interest in whatsoever.
Your sister sounds like quite the adventurer.
Oh, she was. She was something else. Spotting the bottle of cinnamon schnapps that we d drunk together the night she died, I sighed. I wish I could drink that in honor of her. Right now.
Foster glanced over, and when I motioned to the bottle, he studied it a moment before pulling his phone from his pocket and sending off a text.
Tipping my head in confusion, I asked, What re you doing?
Texting my mom, he answered, slipping the phone away again. Just to let her know I m not going to come home tonight.
What? Why not? I stood when he did, and I followed him in confusion as he crossed the room to my dresser. Where re you going?
Nowhere, he answered as he lifted the bottle. I m going to stay here and drink for you—in honor of Kinsey—since you can t.