Page 19 of Burn

Eventually, I ended up sitting beside the bed, resting my head against the mattress and listening to the steady beeps of her heart and the swooshing sound of the oxygen machine. I listened for any inconsistency and stutter in her pulse. It never came. The beeps kept a pendulum-like pace. When Dave eventually woke, he suggested we wander to the cafeteria to get coffee and something to eat.

I had initially fought him. I didn’t want to leave in case she woke up. I couldn’t bear the thought of her waking up alone, but I was fading fast and needed something if I was going to keep the vigil up. As we sit in the deserted cafeteria, Dave picks pieces off the donuts, and my skin crawls.

“Can we go back?” I ask him; my chest feels tighter by the second.

His eyes lift to mine, and he stops mid-chew, his eyebrows etching together.

“She was out, babe. We needed a break; we can go back soon.”

I push my chair back and stand, grabbing my sour coffee. “We can eat donuts in the room, Dave,” I snap. “What if she wakes up? What if she wakes up alone? She’ll be terrified.”

For better or worse, this man knows me. He knows when to push back and when to allow me to win. He slowly nods, rising from his chair and reaching for my coffee.

“These are awful,” his mouth quirks into a half-smile, his silly smile, before he walks the few steps to the trash can and throws the nearly full cups in.

“Oh, thank God. I couldn’t handle both my friend being in what seems very much like a fucking comaandterrible coffee.”

He carries the tray of donuts in one hand and puts his other around me, keeping me close and grounding me. We’ve been through so much together, losing family and raising three wild kids, and while things are far from perfect, he really is the rock I dreamed of as a little girl. I know I can handle anything life throws at me when he’s beside me.

He makes silly comments as we walk through the sterile halls, making up stories about the different staff members. One is a modern-day version of Frank Abagnale Jr, pretending to be a doctor, but really, he’s a teenager. One is an undercover FBI agent looking for a crooked orderly who’s stealing drugs. Then we pass a beautiful young nurse, and he tells me she’s the drug-stealing orderly. I giggle quietly as we walk, thankful for his apparent effort to ease my tension.

When we reach the ICU, I’ve nearly forgotten where we are or why we’re here. I see Dr. Romera leaning against the nurse’s station, chatting and laughing with a group of women. Next toDr. Romera stands the most out-of-place man: tall, massive, and dark. His black shirt clings to him like a second skin, stretched so tight across his broad shoulders and chest that it looks ready to burst at the seams if he so much as inhales; tattoos swirl over his skin. A black leather jacket is draped over the counter, and his massive arm is casually wrapped around her waist.

After years of knowing Lex, I know not to judge anyone by their tattoos, but something about this guy feels so dangerous. One of the nurses tilts her head at us, and Dr. Romera turns, a broad smile on her face. My attention shifts from the shadow beside her, and my heart trips over itself. I force myself to breathe.

Don’t get your hopes up.

“There you are!” she exclaims. Her tone is excited, and my heartbeat quickens, excitement spreading through my body. “Lex woke up while you were downstairs. We were able to remove her breathing tube. Her lungs sound good — not great — but good. You can go see her. Her throat is pretty sore, so go easy on the talking.”

Before I can stop myself, I rush toward the doctor, wrapping my arms around her and breathing in her sweet, floral scent. My hands tremble, and my eyes fill with tears. She laughs softly.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“You’re welcome,” she says, briefly returning the hug before gently urging me back. “Go see your friend. I’m done my shift; the on-call doctor will arrive shortly.”

I swipe my hand under my nose, nodding and feeling the sting in my cheeks from the pressure of smiling so hard for the first time in 36 hours. I turn toward Dave, and his expression mirrors mine. The lines on his forehead have vanished, and his smile is so broad that I can see every single one of his teeth. Helooks like a kid. He holds his arms out for me, and instead of embracing him, I slap his shoulder.

“I told you!” I laugh.

He grabs my wrist and drags me into his arms, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest, “Yeah, you told me. You’re always right. Let’s go see her.”

He kisses my temple, takes my hand, and pulls me toward her room. I look over my shoulder and see Dr. Romera slip her hand into the man’s and walk down thehall.

Wolves

Lex

14 Years Old

The cafeteria and its students feel so much more intense from this spot. In the middle of the large room, seated at a table, pressed between Navaeh and Zoe, Story sits opposite. Story morosely pushes the pieces of her Caesar salad around the plate, occasionally sighing. I haven’t touched my sandwich; my stomach is thick with anxiety.

“Tristan came over last night, and I snuck out my bedroom window,” Navaeh gushes while playing with the tab on her Coke Zero. “He took me to the beach, and we fucked in the back seat of his car.”

I choke on nothing, sputtering and coughing. Story looks up at me with such disdain that I shrink back, wanting to disappear. Navaeh laughs and slams her hand into my back.

“Come on, Morgan. Not like you haven’t done it,” she beams, grinning widely. Story rolls her eyes and shifts her focus back to her untouched salad.

Zoe surprises me when she comments, “Little late-night rendezvous. Tell us more.” Her voice is so melodic and sweet. She enunciates each word so precisely that she sounds like a radio host reading a script.

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