Page 28 of A Small Town Risk

I rush back to town, not knowing what’s happening. I find everyone gathered in the waiting room of the hospital. He’s still being operated on. It’s taking too long. I sit next to Catherine and wait.

It seems like forever before the doctor comes out. He tells us it was touch and go, but Ryan will fully recover. It feels like a weight being lifted off my chest, and I can breathe a little easier. I’ve wasted so much time not admitting my feelings to him. I promise myself that I’ll tell him I love him if he’s okay.

He’s groggy when we walk into his room. I stay back, letting his family see him first. Several nurses are in here, and one of them is Nancy. I want to jerk her out of her Crocs, but stay calm and temper my jealousy. It’s not appropriate right now. I lean against the wall, forcing myself to stay out of the way. I’m doing everything I can to keep the tears at bay.

A doctor shows up, asking questions as he stands beside Ryan. His eyelashes flutter, and then his eyes open. I feel relieved until Nancy bends over him. “Good to see you’re awake,” she coos. “Everyone has been worried.”

It’s inappropriate for her to talk to him like that when his family is behind her.

“I love you,” I hear him say to her, plain as day.

I must have made a noise, because Elle looks at me with concern. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t do this. I have to leave. I slip out the door.

What a nightmare. I feel sick. The man I was about to confess my love to just uttered those words to someone else. I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face as I make my way out of the hospital, ignoring Elle’s calls. I can’t do it right now.

That night, Elle and Catherine came over. They didn’t think I should be alone. We all got drunk. I confessed everything to them. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I drowned my sorrows in junk food and margaritas. I woke up on the bathroom floor with the worst hangover of my life, hugging the toilet and my mouth tasting foul. I get the courage to stand on shaky legs, brush my teeth, and stumble through my apartment.

At some point, Carson showed up and took the girls home. I can’t recall whether it occurred last night or this morning. In any case, he got an earful about his brother from all three of us—guilt by association.

Two days later, I’m still no better. I blow my nose and wipe my tears with a wet tissue. I’m unable to motivate myself to do anything. I’ve been in a complete funk. I lack the energy to work. It’s always been my salvation until now. I’ve called my clients, telling them I’m sick and will get back to them in a few days.

I lean my head back on my sofa. I’ve basically been living on it. I can’t sleep in my bed; it reminds me of Ryan. I feel yucky because I haven’t showered for I don’t know how long. I shrug. It doesn’t matter. No one is here to see me.

CHAPTER TWENTY

RYAN

I can hardly keep my eyes open, and my body aches. I hear voices, but am too tired to make out the words. I just want to sleep.

The next time I wake, Carson is talking to Elle. She looks upset. I’m unable to speak due to a tube down my throat and beeping machines surrounding me.

“It’s okay,” Carson says, his hand pressing down on my shoulder. “I’m calling the nurses.”

The nurses rush in, pushing Carson and Elle out of the room. They eagerly probe and poke me, eventually taking the tube out of my mouth, which hurts like a motherfucker.

I say, “Ahh,” and stop because my mouth is parched and tender. A nurse hands me water.

They eventually allow my family back in, but Parker isn’t with them. I didn’t expect her to be, but I was hoping.

“You scared us,” Mom says, holding my hand. Dad stands behind her, looking tired. The entire crew looks exhausted. I feel bad for putting them through this.

“I should have waited for backup.” I want to say more, but Nancy’s entrance silences the room, which is strange. She brushes her hand down my arm in a sultry fashion. Even in mycondition, I know this isn’t appropriate, especially in front of my family.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Sore but good,” I say.

It’s weird how she’s just standing beside the bed, continuously touching me. I try to move my arm, but I’m hooked up to so many things that I can’t.

“Great,” she says. “They’ll discharge you in a few days. I told the doctor I won’t leave your side. I can move in and take care of everything, so you don’t have to worry.

“What…? Move into my place? No. You don’t need to bother.”

Did I miss something? Why is she acting like we’re together and my family isn’t saying anything? Looking around the room, it’s evident that no one is pleased with her plan to assume responsibility for my care. Did something happen after I got shot?

“It’s no bother,” she says. “I’d be moving in after we got married anyway, so why not before?”

She’s delusional.

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