“Noah!” Elle comes in with Ben following behind. She gives me a hug, acting as if she hasn’t seen me in months.
Ben stops and motions to the bags he’s carrying. “Here, take one.” I do, and as soon as I open it, my stomach growls.
“Thanks, Ben.”
“No problem. It’s what I’m good for.”
Harrison grabs a bag and Ben sets the rest down on the small table. I watch as he takes a seat next to Elle and she leans into him. He kisses the top of her head and sighs and I find myself wondering again whether there’s something going on between them.
“What are you up to these days, Ben?”
“School and work,” he says.
“And being Elle’s personal slave?” I ask.
Elle slaps me in the arm and gives me a dirty look. I can joke like this with her, but I can’t with Peyton. I see them so differently. “That’s rude, Noah.”
“It’s the truth. Right Ben?”
Elle turns and looks at him. It’s mushy as shit. If they’re not dating, they’re messing around between the sheets.
“I don’t mind,” he says, looking deep into her eyes. The sight makes me want to gag, but honestly, I’m probably not much better when it comes to Peyton.
“Noah!” I stand as my aunt Katelyn comes toward me. “Thank you so much for sitting with Peyton. We really needed a couple of hours of shut-eye.”
“My pleasure.” And fully for my benefit. I was there when she opened her eyes. I got to kiss her, and I’m praying she remembers it when she wakes fully.
“The nurse is with her now. They’re going to try and wean her off the morphine a little, hoping she’ll stay awake longer. I don’t know though, I don’t want her in pain.”
“She’ll be fine,” Harrison says as he reaches for Katelyn. “She has her family to help and guide her.”
And me. She’ll have me because once the season’s over, I’m not leaving her side.
“Quinn said Xander is going to take over her treatment?”
Katelyn nods. “I’m not sure if Peyton realizes this or not, but she’ll be coming home with us when she’s discharged.”
Which means I’ll be living in Los Angeles during the off-season, hopefully somewhere near where the Powell-James live because I need to be close to Peyton. I don’t want to let her out of my sight, and if that means I have to work out with her everyday, so be it.
19
Peyton
When I wake, sunlight beams through my window. I’m having a hard time recalling whether the window was there before or if I’ve switched rooms. Either way, I lay my head back and stare into the rays, pretending I’m outside basking in their warmth. Wishing I were outside, free of these casts and the constant pain I’m feeling.
Outside my room, the hall is busy. Busier than I can recollect from earlier, but mostly everything is fuzzy, and right now I’m having a hard time separating fact from fiction. Someone is singing. Another is whistling. And I remember someone playing guitar earlier. Or was it the other day? I’m starting to feel like I’ve imagined things, such as Noah being here and kissing me.
That I know is fiction. Not only would he not be here, but kissing me is definitely out of the question. He’s with Dessie. And whether I’m hurt or not, there would be no way in hell she’d let him come to see me.
It doesn’t escape my notice that my room is empty, and honestly, I sort of like it. I welcome the peace and quiet. I know my family is worried, but they’re hovering. They ask me how I’m doing or if I’m okay every time I grimace. They want to touch me, hug me, coddle me, and when they realize they can’t, the look of upset on their faces makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong.
I look at my casts. Long gone are the days of white plaster which could be decorated with an array of sharpies. A hard bandage looking material has taken its place, making it almost impossible to write on. Both my casts are pink, making me believe my mother and sister picked them out. I hate pink. I would’ve opted for black or something fun like orange.
The color orange makes my thoughts switch to Kyle. It took a day or two for my memory to come back but I’m still lacking the small details. From what I can remember, we met at the game and hit it off. Still, I’m going to ask my mom. At least, I’m hoping she knows. There’s something in the back of my mind telling me that Kyle could be special though.
A nurse or an orderly, I don’t know which or if that’s even her title, comes in with my tray of food. I press the button that raises my bed until I’m somewhat comfortable and wait for her to push the mobile cart into place. Thing is, I can’t recall doing this any other time, so how is it that I know?
“It’s nothing fancy, but the toast is pretty good.”