Chapter 30 I Might Combust
I MIGHT COMBUST
MADISON
I am so ready to go home. It’s been just over two weeks in this sterile, white-walled place, and I’m itching for comfort, for normality.
The first week was rough, having to rely on everyone to help me—from eating, to using the bathroom, and showering.
My mood swings came fast and hard, and I hated that Hunter and Mom took the brunt of it.
Not once did they waver. Not once did they give up or throw in the towel.
They were patient when I needed to break down, quick to make me laugh when I hadn’t in days.
They carried me through the worst of it, helping me fight my way back.
I don’t know how I’ll ever repay them. How I’ll ever repay the doctors, nurses, and physical therapy staff who refused to give up on me, too, even when I wanted to give up on myself.
“Knock, knock.”
I scoot myself up in the bed the best I can without knocking the casting on my leg. The door opens, and Mom stands there with a big smile on her face.
“Hi.” I raise a brow at her, wondering why she’s hiding behind the door.
“I have a visitor for you.” She pushes the door open wider, and a smile breaks out across my face.
“Charlie!” I call.
Excitement buzzes through my veins at the sight of her. She looks so happy and vibrant, a completely different little girl from the last time I saw her.
She runs for me, golden curls bouncing with every step, and climbs onto the bed, wrapping her arms around my neck in a tight hug. I breathe her in, warmth and sunshine settling in my chest, my heart dancing with happiness.
“Watch her leg, sweetie,” Mom says.
“Sorry,” Charlie blurts, pulling back enough to peer at me, her eyes wide. “I’m so excited to see you.”
“You’re okay, and I’m so happy to see you, too.” I beam at her.
“Nurse Claire said you get to go home today. She also said you were really sad last week when I got to have my party.”
The words pinch. I wasn’t just sad, I was devastated.
We had planned her party for weeks; it was my way of making it up to her after months of not being around.
When the doctor told me I couldn’t go because my headaches had worsened and they wanted to keep me under strict monitoring, I completely lost it.
“I do get to go home today. I’m very excited.” I brush a curl back from her face. “And I’m sorry I had to miss your party. Did you have fun?”
“I had so much fun.” She spins around, holding her hands out toward Mom, who places something into them. Charlie turns back to me, smiling. “This is for you. I made it with my sister. It’s a get-well card and thank-you card all in one.”
My throat tightens as I take in the folded paper, smiling down at the cooked letters and bright colors. “Why is it a thank-you card?”
“Because you helped with my party. Momma said you organized the whole thing, and I had so much fun that I wanted to thank you.”
“Oh,” I say. “That’s very sweet of you. I’m really glad you had fun.” I look back at her. “Maybe we could make up for it one day and get ice cream together.”
Her face lights up. “I love ice cream!”
I laugh softly. “So, what was the first thing you did when you got home?”
“I jumped on my big girl bed,” she says proudly. “Then I went to the park with everyone. It was the bestest.”
“The bestest,” I repeat, my eyes widening dramatically for her. “Wow.”
“Okay, Charlie,” Mom says. “Your dad is waiting for you.”
“Hey, one last hug?” I stretch out my arms.
She doesn’t hesitate, launching herself into me. I squeeze her carefully. “Thank you for visiting me,” I say into her hair.
She pulls back, hops down from the bed, and bounces over to Mom.
Thank you, I mouth to Mom as she ushers Charlie out of the room.
I needed to leave this place on a good note. I needed the hugs, the laughter, something warm to carry with me when I walk out these doors.
Hours later, I’m stretched out on Hunter’s couch, my leg propped on a tower of pillows courtesy of Connor. The cushions smell like clean laundry and faint coffee, the kind of comfort you don’t notice until you’ve missed it.
Wildflowers are scattered throughout the house—jars on windowsills, mismatched vases on the kitchen and coffee table—filling the space with bright, earthy colors.
Everyone was here to welcome me home.
Home.
The word still feels strange to say. Hunter’s house has always been a second home to all of us, a place we drifted in and out of without thinking twice. But calling it home now—for God knows how long—is going to take some getting used to.
Remi barely left my side, handing me drawings, one after another.
Stick figures with wobbly smiles. Hearts and stars.
Get well soon scribbles and dinosaurs. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.
The love, the fussing, the way everyone hovered like they were afraid I might disappear.
It was overwhelming in the best kind of way.
Hours passed, and my bones grew heavy, my thoughts turning hazy as sleep pulled at the edges of my vision. Hunter noticed—of course, he did—and subtly asked everyone to leave so I could rest. Now, the house is still.
The noise has faded. The warmth of everyone nearby is gone, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. Am I asking too much? Taking up too much space? Putting everyone out by being here?
I reach for my phone resting on my chest and open the girls’ chat.
WINE NOT
Me: Sarah are you sure this is okay?
I exhale slowly, my thumb hovering uselessly over the screen as my gaze drifts to the photo of Mom and me on my lock screen. Us smiling in the kitchen after making breakfast.
Before everything.
Sarah: I should be asking if you’re okay with this. I’m the one taking over your place.
Me: But this is where Remi settled.
Sarah: It was never supposed to be permanent. I always planned to find a place of our own.
Me: Okay, but please make yourself at home. Move anything of mine if you need to.
Tessa: Girl, stop stressing. House swapping made the most sense. Hunter’s has more space for you, it’s more central for all of us to come help. And Sarah and Remi get their own place without people coming and going. Win win.
Me: Fine but if it’s too much please tell me.
Sarah: I will. We’ve already sorted everything with your Mom and if you want to come home at any point just say the word.
Me: You guys are the best.
Halle: Duh. Obviously. Now go get some sleep. We’ll see you tomorrow.
I lean over, setting the phone on the coffee table, and freeze when I catch sight of Hunter walking in. He’s shirtless. Low basketball shorts hang on his hips, and something hot and reckless flutters low in my stomach. A flush works its way through me as he crosses the room, slow and unhurried.
In the weeks since I woke up, he’s been my constant.
A steady presence when my thoughts spiral.
The hands that ground me when my body forgets how to do the simplest things, like how to stand, how to shower, how to breathe without pain.
He’s there beside me at night, chasing away the images of the fall before they can consume me.
With every passing day, I’ve grown needier.
More flustered. The tension between us is palpable—undeniable—humming in every shared glance and lingering touch.
Ever the gentleman, he’s insisted on taking it slow. On letting me heal. On waiting.
If he doesn’t touch me soon, I think I might combust.
I need more.
I need to feel him. To quiet the ache building under my skin.
“Hey, baby. I have a surprise for you,” he says, bending down before I can ask what he means. His arms slide under me, and suddenly, I’m lifted off the couch
A low squeal slips out. “What are you doing? My crutches are right there.”
He chuckles, pulling me close against his chest, looking down at me with a grin. “I know, but this seemed more fun for me, and I like touching you.”
I huff, but I don’t argue. Truth is, I love it when he carries me around like this. Like I’m his priority. It’s something new between us, the way he’s been putting me first without hesitation, and I have to say, it’s got me feeling all the feels.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
I purse my lips, narrowing my gaze at him. The corner of his mouth twitches like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Please,” he adds. “Close your eyes.”
That single word gets me. I roll my eyes in dramatic surrender before closing them, and his chest shakes with a silent laugh.
Warmth surrounds me a second later, the scent of fresh flowers and vanilla wrapping around me.
“What… Where are we?” I whisper.
“Open your eyes.”
My jaw drops.
The bathroom looks nothing like it did before.
Candles line the edges of the countertop and the windowsill, their flames flickering softly, casting everything in a warm, golden glow.
Rose petals trail across the tile floor, some clinging to the porcelain edge of the tub, which is already full of bubbles hugging the sides.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening as I take it all in.
“Roses?” I murmur, spotting the jar of long-stem roses on the counter.
He follows my gaze and shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting. “I had a friend once. She said roses were romantic.”
“Had?” I raise a brow at him.
“Yeah.” His lips twitch. “I don’t call her my friend anymore. We’re a bit beyond that.”
“Is that right?” I tease.
He says nothing, a smirk playing on his lips as he gently sets me down on the edge of the tub.
I eye the steaming water, then look back at him, a sad smile tugging at my mouth. “I can’t get in that. My cast.” I gesture to my leg.
“Sure, you can,” he says easily. “I’ve got it figured out.”
He reaches for a folded stack of thick towels and a small bath stool, positioning it at the end of the tub. “We’ll prop your leg here, and I’ll be here the whole time. I promise it won’t touch the water.”
Steam curls around us, the air heavy and warm. I eye the tub, my body aching to sink into it. To relax. To shut everything off, even just for a minute.