25. Summer
Summer
E verything hurt. I had said that phrase countless times. After a long hike with Autumn, the day after I got the bottomless mimosas with the girls for my twenty-third birthday, after catching the flu.
But never had my body hurt more than waking up in that hospital bed.
The bright lights burned my eyes as I tried to open them, blurry shapes clearing into human forms into the face I held in my mind as I bled out.
I opened my mouth to say his name, but no sound came out. My throat burned, and I placed a hand on it to feel the bandage where I was slashed and likely deeply bruised.
Van saw my motion and got me water from a large clear plastic cup with a bendy straw. The water was lukewarm but helped soothe it.
“How do you feel?” he asked, taking my hand.
“Like an asshole cut off my air supply and beat my ass,” I croaked, the words scorching my throat. Planting a hand beside me, I tried to shift in the bed, but my aching muscles wouldn’t allow it. Flopping back on the bed, I knew I had to conserve my energy and words. “Cory?”
A darkness flashed over his face.
“Arrested in Rosedale yesterday. Came into the ER blind in one eye. They’re holding him for vehicular assault for hitting you with his car, since I saw that. Once you’re able to talk to the police, they’ll be able to add attempted murder to his charge.”
Attempted murder.
I could have died.
“You fought like hell. I’m proud of you, Sunshine.”
Shame filled me.
If I hadn’t provoked Cory the way I did, if I had let things go, he never would’ve followed me that day. Heat filled my face, and I realized I was clenching my fists.
“It was my fault,” I croaked.
A shadow fell over his face.
“No. It’s his.”
I opened my mouth, but the thunderous expression on Van’s face stopped me.
“Don’t you dare take this on, Summer. He was a weak man, bent on hurting you. But he’ll never do that again. Am I pissed that you were in that position? Of course. But nothing you did to him, no matter how inconvenient, means that you deserved to be hurt.”
The doctor came in, a clipboard in her hands. She approached the empty side of the bed, looking over my vitals and comparing them to whatever was on her chart. “You are looking much better, Summer.” She beamed at me, her tanned skin bright against the white of her jacket.
She didn’t seem to be that much older than me, and I was struck with how impressive it must have been to be that successful under thirty.
I shifted and forgot the silly idea.
She poked and prodded, then declared that I was well enough to get up and walk. “Careful not to pull out your stitches. We don’t want your boyfriend having to donate his blood all over again, do we?”
With that warning, she left me alone with Van.
I glanced over at him, his cheeks flushing pink at the comment. “You donated blood?”
He shrugged, and in that moment of humility, I knew I would never love a man the way I loved him.
“But you’re afraid of needles.”
He swallowed hard. “Seeing the woman I love almost die in front of me has changed my idea of fear.”
Tears stung my eyes, and I didn’t wipe them away this time.
Concern creased his face.
“Are you in pain?” He took a step away from me, dropping my hand to head to the door. “I’ll ask Dr. Pearce to give you more medicine.”
“No,” I cried out, tears dripping down my chin. “I mean, yes, everything is sore and aching, and I’m sure once the drugs wear off, I’ll be howling, but I’m not crying over that. You love me.”
Worry transformed into incredulity, then into joy.
“I told you I do.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
My words were scratchy, each syllable rough as it came out.
He took my hand again, his expression soft. “Don’t worry about that. You don’t need to explain.”
“I do—” I coughed, then swallowed.
The pain medication was taking the edge off, but talking was difficult. I had likely stretched my voice to its limit by my thirty-odd words.
“No, you don’t.” He drew up a chair beside me, his hand gripping mine. “We have forever to talk this out. For you to call me on my bullshit and for me to call you on yours. Right now, all I need from you is for you to get better. To heal. And you won’t heal if you’re working yourself up and talking and—”
I slapped a hand over his mouth, cutting him off and raising my brows. “Let me say this and then I’ll rest.”
He frowned but waved begrudgingly for me to go on.
“I love you.”
There were flowery words I wanted to use, soliloquies on his gray eyes, and there was the way he made me feel safe. That there would be hard days ahead. I had been living in reality after all. But as long as I had Van beside me, I would be alright. All my anger and doubt couldn’t exist in a world where he loved me.
He bent down, pressing a tender kiss to my mouth, his nose missing my broken one. His last word a vow against my lips.
“Truly.”