Page 60 of Our Hearts to Break

So far, he’s not showing signs of a concussion. He seems alert and does not stagger or slur his words. Although, I am worried about the bruises on his back and ribs.

I strip off his T-shirt and study the discolored skin. My fingers trace around the spot around his rubs, careful not to touch it.

“What are you doing?” Nate bites out.

“Checking for swelling. The doctor asked you those questions?—”

“I know, I know. And I don’t have internal bleeding. Trust me, Riv. I’m fine.”

“You wouldn’t tell anyone if you did. That tough guy act doesn’t work on me.” I move behind him and glance at his back. “Keep an eye on these, okay? If anything feels wrong, or you show any signs?—”

“I will,” he promises. “I’m not going to die on you.”

“Better not.” I put my hands on his shoulders and squeeze, our lips inches apart. “It would kill me.”

“If you die before me, I’d totally Romeo myself,” he jokes, but I’m not laughing. “The thought of living without you…”

Deflated by his response, my hands drop to my sides. “Nate, this isn’t comforting. At all. You can’t talk about suicide the night before I leave. This is freaking me out.”

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“And I didn’t like it back then. Please call Dr. Swanson in the morning.”

“I’m not going to off myself, you idiot. I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid.”

I pull him to me, gripping the skin on his neck, and hold him tightly. “I’m hurting, too, Nate. But we’ll get through this. Together.”

His long fingers dig into my hips. Rough and possessive, Nate claims me.

Again, my cell phone rings with more calls and messages, ruining our moment of peace. Our lives will never be the same. We will always have as much hate as support.

“You should deal with that,” Nate says when my cell phone beeps for the millionth time. “Get it over with… and then we can spend the rest of the night naked and all over each other.”

I smile at the thought and swipe my phone from the nightstand. Reporters beg for interviews. Content creators tagged me on social media. There are so many notifications my head spins. So, I focus on the texts first.

Scrolling down the screen, I see congratulatory messages from unknown numbers. I never give out my number for a reason, yet somehow, they have mine.

Ignorning them, I search for people in my Contacts and see my parents.

Dad

Call me now.

Mom

I’m so proud of you, Rivie. Love you.

Dad

What were you thinking?

Dad

Turn on the news.

Dad

Don’t ignore me, River. We need to do damage control.

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