Page 42 of Be My Reason

“Yeah, I know.” He looks down at his hand. The same hand that has all of those little scars. “Will you go with me to the hospital, Brooklyn?”

My heart drops into my stomach and I’m instantly pulled back into a small room with white walls and beeping machines. The room where I last saw Michael, lifeless and broken. The room that haunts my dreams when the walls close in on me, suffocating me while I frantically lash around to find a door that will allow me to escape the nightmare.

I close my eyes. “I . . . I can’t.” I look away, ashamed that I’m so weak.

“Oh, okay.” He looks hurt, and notjust from the pain in his hand.

“No. It’s not that I don’t want to go with you. I, uh . . . well, I don’t go to hospitals anymore. After Michael . . .”

“God, Brooklyn. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” He looks sad. Then he bites his lip and asks, “Would you consider an urgent care facility?”

I take a deep breath and look at the man I have come to call my friend.He has been nothing but nice and supportive of me. How can I deny him? Plus, his hand is starting to swell so he can’t drive himself anywhere. “Yes. I can do that.” I direct him to stand over by my car when we get home. “I’ll run up and get my car keys.”

“Thank you.” He watches me go in the side door to the apartment.

Luckily, the urgent care center is not that busy and we only have a short wait. They take him back for X-rays while I text Emma to tell her and Graham what is going on. It takes ten or twenty texts and one phone call to get it through her thick skull that we weren’t on a date. She won’t listen. I think she is hell-bent on marrying me off so that I can be as happy as she and Graham are. What she doesn’t understand is the pain she will feel when Graham is taken away. Or leaves.

The nurse comes out to get me. “You can go back now, he is asking for you.” I follow her down the hall to a private room. A room with a railed bed and medical machines and pictures of diseases on the wall. A hospital room. I take a deep breath and cross the threshold.

“This must be hard for you,” Nate says. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

He’s worried about me. He has probably broken his hand, is in a world of pain and he is thinking of my feelings. God, I’m a terrible person for even saying anything. “Nate. It’s okay, really. This is nothing like a hospital anyway,” I lie. “How are you doing?”

“They gave mea pain injection while we wait for the doctor to read the X-rays.”

“Good.I talked to Emma. She said Graham wants you to call him when you get home later.”

He nods.

The door opens and a young doctor walks in and puts the X-rays up on that light-machine thing. He turns around and looks at Nate, then looks at me. “Oh, wow!” he says. “Nate Riley.”

“John Morgan?” Nate says back to him. “It’s been a long time.You’re a doctor now—that’s incredible! I’d shake your hand but . . .” He shrugs and holds up his swollen hand.

John starts to ask Nate about baseball since they were on the high school team together but Nate cuts him off. “John, man, is it broken?”

He takes a good long look at theX-rays. “Jesus, Nate, you have more pins in your wrist than a damn bowling alley.” He looks over at him. “What happened?”

Nate looks at me and then backat him. “Baseball bat.”

“Wow, sorry man. Is that why you’re not in the MLB? I always thought you’d make it to the majors, brother.”

“Yeah, listen. . . about the hand . . . broken?” Nate seems irritated. He must still be in a lot of pain.

“No.You are lucky. It’s probably stronger because of the all the pins. You’ll have some swelling for a few days. Make sure to keep it elevated and put ice on it.”

Nate looks relieved and lets out a long breath.“Good, thanks. Uh, do you remember Brooklyn Vaughn?” He nods his head to me.

“Nice to see you, Brooklyn.”

Of course he doesn’t remember me. Anyone that knew me then, knew me as Lyn. He is simply being nice. “You, too. Thanks for your help.”

He hands Nate his card, along with a prescription for some pain medication, and tells him to call him to hang out sometime.

“I’m not in town long, but I’ll try,” Nate says.

He won’t call him. He hates this town. I’m not even sure why he agreed to come here. Maybe his dad forced him to take this job. Why else would he torture himself in a town full of people he doesn’t want to see?

For you.My goddess within speaks.

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