Page 10 of Where the River Meets the Skye

“Yeah, I’m waiting on the results. I wouldn’t be surprised if I have a concussion, and I’m pretty sure I have a broken ankle, too, with how much it’s hurting.”

“Right, I’ll shut up. Just rest. But I’m staying until I talk to a doctor and find out what’s going on with you and how long you’ll be here,” Skye insisted.

River nodded, lowering his head to the pillow and closing his eyes.

Skye sat in the remaining chair and pulled out the pop quizzes to grade, realizing as he did, that he never did give his students their papers back as he’d promised. Oh well. This was more important. River was always more important than anything else in his life, it seemed.

This gorgeous man with his sapphire eyes that make even the deepest blues of the ocean pale in comparison. Those thick, full lips, the light dusting of stubble along his face that hadn’t been there when they met all those years ago, but made him even more handsome now, Skye thought. His long, dark eyelashes that fell just above his cheekbones now that his eyes were closed. The dark, almost raven hair. God, he was beautiful. River Dawson was the most breathtakingly beautiful man in the world, inside and out.

As Skye watched him, asleep in the hospital bed, River’s chest rising and falling with every beautiful, perfect breath, he couldn’t deny it any longer. Jenna and Nick were right. He was more than just attracted to River. He was falling in love with River. The realization hit him so hard it knocked the breath from his lungs. His chest ached and tears stung his eyes.

With every fiber of his being, he was falling in love with his best friend. With his compassion and kindness, with his humor, his gentleness and his strength, with his courage and resilience. He was falling in love with River’s beautiful smile and his infectious laughter. If he had the balls to admit it to himself, he’d been falling in love with River for years, but trying so very hard not to, for two very good reasons.

First of all, River was religious. He believed in all that God and Jesus and praying stuff, doing Bible studies and going to church on Sunday mornings, and Skye didn’t. He loved and respected River for his faith, and the fact that he was a Christian who loved God but also loved the LGBTQ community made Skye respect him even more, even if he didn’t agree with his beliefs. He knew River accepted him for who he was and he had never asked Skye to change, but having a best friend who didn’t share your faith was one thing. Having that person be your life partner was different, right? Surely someone who shared River’s faith would be a better fit for him. And neither of them should have to compromise who they were for the sake of a relationship. If River ever developed feelings for Skye, could they make it work without giving up a part of themselves? He wanted to believe they could. But did it matter? Because the second reason, and the most blatantly obvious one, was the fact the River was straight.

But regardless of both of those things, Skye felt his resolve crumbling. That giant wall of ice he’d built in his head to protect himself from falling for River wasn’t as strong as it had been ten years ago, or five years ago, or three. It was melting now, and he didn’t know what to do to stop it.

I’m not falling in love with him. I’m not. I’m not. I…I can’t.

Falling in love with River would only lead to heartache.

Skye was awoken by a knock on the door. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, but the sound startled him and he jumped as a very undignified snort left him, all of his papers falling from his lap and onto the floor. He grabbed his neck, which was sore from sleeping in the chair, and groaned.

River was slower to regain consciousness, his eyes fluttering open. He looked a little dazed and pretty exhausted still. Looking at the clock on the wall, Skye realized it’d been a couple of hours since he arrived.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Rosemary,” a woman in a white coat said, reaching her hand out to Skye.

“Skye,” he told her, shaking her hand, then proceeded to pick up the scattered papers.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Dawson?” Dr. Rosemary asked, turning to River, clipboard in hand.

“I’ve been better,” River replied, groggily.

“Yeah, that’s not surprising,” Dr. Rosemary said. “Are you okay with Skye staying while I discuss your results?” River nodded and she continued.

“You have three cracked ribs, and a mild concussion, and your ankle is broken. Nothing too severe, so no surgery required, but still, lots of rest in your future. What do you do for work?”

“I’m a physical therapist,” River said.

Dr. Rosemary grinned at him. “Well then, I guess I don’t really need to tell you what to do to take care of yourself. But I will. Ice, rest, more ice, and more rest. Okay? We’ll send you home with some breathing exercises to do for your ribs, every couple of hours. If it’s painful you can put a pillow against your ribs to help. But it’s important that you do them to reduce the risk of pneumonia or other complications. Don’t push yourself. Start working on your ankle once it’s ready, and not before. In the meantime we’ll put it in a cast and give you some crutches to get around on for a while. Using the crutches with cracked ribs will be uncomfortable at best, so only move around if you need to. Do you have stairs in your house?”

“No, thankfully,” River said.

“I can prescribe you some pain relievers,” Dr. Rosemary said. “And of course, no driving until your ankle and ribs are better. I assume you're in good hands at home.” She nodded at Skye.

“Oh, yeah, he’ll be fine,” Skye promised with a small smile. “How long before he can get back to work?”

“We’ll be monitoring the ankle injury every few weeks or so to make sure it’s healing properly, but the process itself could take up to 6 weeks before he’s able to put any kind of weight back on it. In the meantime he can use crutches if he needs to, but it’s best to keep the ankle elevated and be icing it as much as possible. Once he’s able to put weight on it again he can move from crutches to a boot. It could take several months before he’s fully functional again and he’ll have to keep up with his PT at home, but he’ll get there. I would recommend taking as much time off as possible to rest and heal. Talk to your employer and human resources where you work and see what their policies are and how much they are willing to work with you. But in your line of work and with the injuries you’ve sustained, I’d say four weeks minimum off work to recover. And of course I’ll give you a note.” She looked to River again and he nodded solemnly.

Skye knew this wouldn’t be easy for River, being practically bed bound for weeks, not being able to work or go places with friends. Not being able to go to church or his weekly Bible study. Why did it seem like every shitty thing in the world happened to his best friend? And yet he had to remind himself that it could be worse. River could be dead right now, instead of sitting in the hospital bed next to him, looking forlorn.

“There was one other thing we saw on the x-rays we took,” Dr. Rosemary continued. “We don’t know if this is from the accident or from an earlier injury. Have you had any falls recently, Mr. Dawson?”

“Um, no, not recently,” River said, the surprise evident in his voice. He pushed his glasses up his nose again even though they hadn't moved. He shifted slightly in his bed and then winced, grabbing his injured side. “I had a fall in college, about seven years ago,” he grunted out.

“Can you expand on that?”

“It was winter, and I was walking down some icy steps. I slipped and landed pretty hard on my butt. It hurt like crap at the time for a solid thirty minutes or so and kinda knocked the wind out of me. I was sore for a while but I just kinda walked it off, and after that I was fine,” River explained.

---