Page 262 of Wrath

I’m so grateful my throat closes up, and it takes me a second to thank her for letting me back early.

I ask a few questions about the surgery, which apparently went well, and then Ezra’s muscles start to twitch and his eyelids start to flutter.

The nurse lets me get right by him, ease my arm through the rail so I can rub his shoulder and whisper to him as he wakes up. I’m prepared for the worst, but he just seems confused and sleepy. I tell him a few times that he had a surgery and it went fine, and I’m not going to leave him. At one point, he smirks and slurs, “Are you my husband?”

That makes me laugh. “Yeah, angel. I’m whatever you want.”

The surgeon comes in while Ez is dozing, giving me a full report on what he did to Ezra’s leg and telling me he’ll set up followup care in Alabama. He says we have to stay here overnight, but we can probably leave tomorrow. Then our nurse starts actively trying to wake Ez up. She hands me a cherry-flavored slush to feed him with a plastic spoon, and he blinks at me with his glassy eyes as he swallows the cool liquid. After that, he’s more awake, and he’s peering around the room. I tell him again what happened, and he shuts his eyes, whispering something nonsensical about bubble gum.

“I’d love some bubble gum,” I whisper back, just to keep things conversational.

He rasps, “Hold me?”

His dazed eyes lift open, and he looks somehow both pained and high off his ass. I’d do anything he asked at this point—okay, really at any point—so I convince the nurse to let me lowerthe bed’s rail on his unhurt side. I think Ez is sleeping when we do it, but his eyelids tremble open, and he tries to hold his arm out for me.

“You’re okay…I’ve gotcha, angel.”

I scoot my chair right up to the bed’s side, wrap an arm over his upper chest, and press my face against his shoulder. Ezra’s hand comes up to wrap around my forearm and, again, he does this sweet thing where he leans his head toward me—like he wants to snuggle up to me and can’t, but he’s still trying.

It strains my back and shoulder to hold this pose, hugging him from the side, but I don’t mind it. I guess he’s still waking up, because a few times, he shudders, or he’ll startle awake. Each time, when he feels me wrapped around him, he drifts back to sleep.

And…that’s it. That’s how it goes. I don’t know what I thought it would be like, but after an hour in recovery, a nurse wheels his bed to the room where we’ll be overnight. When his eyes lift open, I make sure I’m in his line of sight, and he smiles, looking high as hell, and pale, but not unhappy.

In his private room, I eat a little of the yummy food that Luke and Vance had delivered. Then I fire off a few more texts—including to Luke and Vance, who are going to drop by with my luggage—and wrap an arm around my angel’s chest.

He wakes up once with what I think is pain—he’s too out of it for me to know for sure—and I call for a nurse, who gives more pain meds. The next time I see his pretty lake eyes is almost two hours later. He startles awake, mumbling something about Paul, and all my hairs stand on end. But I lean over him and stroke his neck and his warm cheeks. I tell him I’m here and I love him, and he won the Rose Bowl, and he drifts back off.

He has another nightmare a few minutes later. I lean over him and kiss his cheek and reassure him. He’s less sedated now, and wraps an arm around me. “Get in bed,” he mumbles, hisvoice raspy. I don’t, but I hug him pretty solidly, and he’s back into dreamland.

That’s the pose I’m in when someone knocks. I say, “Come in,” and two men step into the room. I recognize the blond one on the left from TV.Luke McDowell!He has my luggage. The guy on his right with the kind smile and short brown hair is holding a chubby baby.

They both smile, and I laugh, feeling silly leaned over Ezra like this. They come over, standing by the rail on the bed’s other side, and they both look at Ezra, who, with a sheet over his leg, just looks like he’s napping shirtless with a few EKG leads stuck to his chest.

“Hey, Ez…” I realize after I say it that it’s a dumb idea to wake him, but the damage is done. His eyelids flutter open, and he frowns at me, and then at Luke McDowell and his husband. Then he smiles, and his eyes roll back. Somehow, he’s not too high to lock an arm around my shoulders.

His eyes open again. “Hi,” he whispers, looking up at Luke.

“How’re you doing?” Luke asks softly.

Ezra looks from Luke to his husband, and when he sees the baby, he gives a big, medicated smile. “You brought her,” he slurs. His eyes shut, but he lifts them open again.

“Hey,” he says, and I can tell from his tone that he’s saying hello to their baby.

Vance lifts baby Eden’s arm up in a wave. “Hey, Ezra,” he says in a falsetto voice that reminds me of old-schoolAlvin and the Chipmunks. “You played a great game. We’re sooo proud of you!”

Luke chuckles and shakes his head, and I can’t help a soft laugh.

So kicks off a long spell of whispering between Luke and Vance and me. It ends with Luke asking me how Ezra’s doing. I tell him about what happened in the triage room, and Vance tells me I should get in bed with Ezra.

“Every time you move from that pose,” he says, nodding down at me, “his eyes crack open. Is your back hurting like this?”

I shrug. “Nah.”

“Get up there on your side, dude, and I’ll put the rail up behind you. That way, you can both sleep.”

Luke nods. “We can stay. I’ll sit in the rocking chair there and we’ll nap Miss Eden here.”

I guess I must look hesitant, because Vance nods at Luke. “Mr. Surname over there—his dad donated money to this place. Long time back.” He lifts his brows. “It was a lot of money. If they give us any trouble, he’ll be Pastor My Dad Gave You Money.”

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