Page 6 of On the Edge

“It’s okay. Some confusion is normal.” Jonas patted my hand again as a dark-haired nurse bustled in. She was middle-aged with a loud accent better suited to Chicago than Utah.

“Declan! Awake, I see.” Her voice was way too loud and grating. “How are we feeling?”

“Crappy.” I couldn’t even fake it. My throat was still dry as sandpaper. “Water?”

“Ice chips for now,” she chirped, still operating at top volume. “I’ll go get you some. The doctor is on his way.” She smiled at Jonas, some message passing between them. “And so is your dad.”

“Great.” I slumped as Nurse Megaphone exited the room.

“Doing okay?” Jonas peered down, concern evident in his hazel eyes. “You can close your eyes if you need to.”

“I’m afraid I might not open them if I do that.” I couldn’t believe I’d confessed that to a near stranger, but maybe that was precisely why I’d admitted the truth. The vision disturbances and fuzzy thinking had shaken me. I didn’t want to fall asleep and wake up worse. I was a doer. I wanted to fix the situation and fast. However, I’d been around enough medical shit to know how unlikely that was. I groaned. I needed a distraction from my gloomy thoughts. “Read to me some more?”

“You want that?” For the first time, Jonas seemed genuinely surprised, but he was already thumbing open his phone.

“Gotta see what’s for teatime,” I mumbled right as my dad appeared in the doorway. His eyes were red, his hair all messy, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. Oh hell. I really had almost bought the farm. My stomach roiled, acid rising in the back of my throat.

“Declan.” Dad said my name with so much emotion—happiness, pride, frustration, worry, and other things I couldn’t name—that my own eyes started to burn.

No. I wasn’t a crier. Not about to start. I blinked hard as Jonas dropped my hand. I wanted to yank his back but didn’t.

“We’ll pick it up again later,” he said in a low voice before standing so my dad could have the chair.

Strangely, I wanted Jonas to stay. I barely knew the guy, but I liked his calming presence, the way he quieted the noise in my rattled brain, the way none of this seemed too awful with him nearby. But Jonas was already backing out of the room, and Dadlooked ready to bawl, lecture me, or both. I’d simply have to hope I hadn’t seen the last of Jonas.

Chapter Four

Jonas

I’d eaten more hospital food in the last two decades than anyone else I knew, to the point where I’d learned to cook in self-defense, but I’d never had a salad quite so pale and lifeless as this one. I gave up after a couple of bites and pushed my tray away in favor of pulling out my phone.

“Kids blowing up your phone?” Denver asked, looking up from the terrible excuse for a chicken sandwich and waffle fries he’d ordered.

“Yeah.” I scrolled through my messages, chest all warm at the number of unread ones. I was missed. “Wren can’t find the cooling rack for cookies or the powdered sugar.”

“The cooling rack is in the drawer under the oven.” Denver had moved on to unwrapping a large chocolate chip cookie. Despite living in the carriage house with Sean, Denver cooked in the main house several times a week, usually with Wren. “Powdered sugar is in the pantry, upper left.”

“Damn, you’re good.” I typed a fast reply, including a reminder to use potholders to take the cookies out of the oven.

“I try.” Denver blew across his knuckles, making us both chuckle. It had been a long few days. We needed all the laughs we could get.

“Rowan can’t find his lucky drama club shirt for some audition.” I continued to scroll though my messages. “Not this year’s shirt, but the one from two years ago.”

“That I can’t help with.” Denver shook his head. “He’s a senior and president of the drama club. Tell him he doesn’t need luck. Get out there and break a leg.”

“Will do. And I’ll remind him he looks better in glitter anyway.” I sent the message before going to one from his sister. “And Maren is predictably stressed about her biochemistry final.”

“Definitely not helping there. My grades were… Well, the less said, the better.” Denver waved a hand before taking a decisive bite of his cookie. “What’s up with her and that Diesel kid?”

“That’s a question.” I glanced down at my phone like it might have the answer. Ever since Maren’s friend Diesel had been injured while hiking during the summer, she’d been visiting way more often from college. Of all the kids, I was probably closest to Maren, but she’d been tight-lipped every time Diesel’s name came up. “And she’s not exactly talking. But she’s knitting him a hat for Christmas, so make your own guess there.”

“So glad I’m not a teen navigating romance and friendships anymore.” Denver shuddered, then pulled his corduroy jacket closer. The frosty weather meant drafty hospital corridors. We’d all packed in such a hurry that we were making do with odds and ends. I was wearing an old T-shirt of Denver’s, jeans that were more days old than I cared to admit, and an ancient zip front hoodie with the Mount Hope Hospital logo. Across the cafeteria, a trio of nurses in scrubs waited for their food orders. I had more than enough leave banked, but I was starting to miss work. And simpler fashion choices.

“Couldn’t pay me to be a teen again,” I agreed with Denver. He was relatively new to our friendship group by way of dating Sean, and I liked that Denver hadn’t known me back when we’d all been at community college together. I’d been in my late teens and a hot mess in more ways than one. “Anyway, I should probably decide whether I’m driving back on my own or leaving my SUV with you and Sean and flying back.” I changed the subject before he could ask about my younger years. “Now that Declan’s moved out of ICU and Sean’s parents are on the way, I’m not as needed.”

Declan had done so well overnight that the medical staff had decided to move him to the PCU. The progressive care unit was a step toward a general surgical recovery floor, although Declan still had several milestones to meet before discharge. My nursing instincts told me he’d likely need a stay in a rehabilitation unit as well, but that was a future bridge to cross. Right now, he and Sean needed to take things one day, heck, one hour, at a time.

“You’re always needed, but I know what you’re saying. You need to get back.” Denver collected all our trash on his tray before dumping it into a nearby trash can.

---