Page 35 of Burn

“She’s in room 4A. That’s the first door on the right.” She points to a door about ten feet away, and continues, “She’s probably asleep, but you can go in, if you want to.”

If I want to? I nod and turn away from her, facing the door and wrestling with my conflicting urges to sprint to it and back out of the hospital to my truck. I take slow, measured steps toward her room and pause when I reach it, straining my ears to see if I hear any voices from inside. It’s silent, and my hand hovers over the handle. Since the fire, all I wanted was one more chance to talk to her. To tell her how damn sorry I am for what happened at that party. Now, when she’s just on the other side of the wall, I realize how poorly this could go. She screamed at me to get away from her. Told me she hates me. Once again, my inability to act in the moment cost me something — someone I care about.

The nurse’s voice is behind me, speaking in a hushed whisper. I hadn’t heard her move across the hall to stand behind me, so I jump slightly when she says, “Just go inside. You guys saved her life, and I’m sure she would love the chance to thank you.” She places her hand on my shoulder, and it’s the push I need to open the door.

I move slowly, ensuring my entrance is as quiet as possible. The room is dark, and the first sound I hear is the strained, even breaths coming from Lex. With each inhale, she wheezes, and my heart breaks. I see the guy in the chair first. He’s fast asleep, his head tilted to the side and his hands folded in his lap. It hits me how little I know about Lex. I don’t know who she has inher life that would be here, sleeping in an uncomfortable chair, just because she’s in the hospital.

I know when I look up from this guy, I’ll see her in a hospital bed. That fact might be why I continue to take in the guy in the chair: because I can’t bear the sight of her like that. I step into the room, close the door behind me, and then take another step, allowing my gaze to travel across the floor, toward the bed. A woman is sitting beside the bed, her arms folded onto the mattress next to Lex, one hand resting protectively over hers.

I’m fixated on their hands when I step further into the room, and when my boot connects with something on the floor. The clatter rips through the silence like a gunshot, and everyone, including me, jumps. The woman seated next to the bed flies to her feet, gasping, the guy in the chair pushes himself straight, and Lex gasps before a series of coughs wrack her body. The sound is brutal. Each breath whistles. Each cough barks. The brunette woman spins to Lex and grabs her hand, pulling her forward.

“Sit up, babe. Come on,” she urges. When Lex complies, the woman rubs her hand on her back and says, “It’s okay. Breathe. Dave, get some water!”

The man in the chair moves quickly, leaning down to the floor to retrieve the items I kicked out of the bag. He then grabs a bottle of water and hands it to the woman. She twists the cap off and holds the bottle out for Lex. When she doesn’t take it, she says, “Lex, honey, drink some water.”

The room falls silent as Lex and I make eye contact for the first time since she collided with me in the hallway during the fire. Her chest heaves as she tries to steady her breathing, and her eyes widen. The woman next to her still has her hand on her back, and she turns her attention from Lex to me.Recognition flickers across her expression briefly before her eyes narrow.

The guy in the chair stands, faces me, smiles, holds out his hand, and says, “You scared the hell out of us. Hey man, I’m Dave. Nice to meet you.”

I open my mouth to introduce myself, but the brunette speaks first. Her tone is sharp. “Adrian, I presume? It’s late. We were sleeping. Do you think this is an appropriate time for a visit?”

I’m too stunned to speak, standing awkwardly holding Dave’s hand. She’s right. It is too late. I shouldn’t have come. Dave releases my hand and supplies me with a weak smile. I look back at Lex. She’s still sitting wide-eyed, staring at me — it feels like she’s looking into my soul.

“Sorry,” I finally say, “I wasn’t thinking.”

The brunette scoffs, “Yeah, seems like you rarely do.”

Dave turns to face her and says, “Lane!” At the same time, Lex turns her head toward her friend and reaches for her arm. Her hand snags the oxygen tube that runs under her nose and yanks it out. Without thinking, I move across the room to her bedside, swattingLane’shand away, and grab the tube to tuck it back into its rightful place.

I barely hear Lane when she snaps at me, her voice tight and laced with fury, “Jesus, Adrian. You don’t get to act like the good guy now!”

I barely notice that Dave has moved and is standing before Lane, urging her to calm down. The tube is in the right place, but I can’t move my hand. It lingers on her jaw, and my thumb brushes back and forth on the soft skin of her cheek. Even like this, hair wild, no make-up, dark circles under her eyes, she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen and her eyes —those stormy blue eyes I thought I’d never see again — are fixed on me and free from anger.

Lane’s tense voice interrupts the silence as she tries to pull Lex’s attention away from me, “Lex, do you want him to leave? I’ll get the nurses if —”

Lex’s voice is hoarse when she speaks. It’s so quiet, but it’s undeniably firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation, and as she speaks, she holds my stare, not looking toward her friend. “I’m fine, Lane. Can you two please give us a moment?”

When Lane starts to argue, Lex finally tears her eyes from mine and spins to look directly at Lane. The moment of silence between them is heavy with tension, eased only when Lex smiles and says, “I’m okay, Lane. Please… Adrian and I need to talk. Alone.”

There’s another moment of silence as Lane tries to determine if Lex is actually okay and whether their leaving is safe. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dave urging Lane toward the door. I can’t take my eyes off Lex. I see the indent from the oxygen tube that’s been in the same spot for at least a few days. I allow my eyes to shift down, scanning her neck, then her chest. Wires extend from the arms and neckline of the hospital gown and connect to the heart monitor located next to the bed. I follow one wire until I’m looking at her hand.

An IV is secured to the side of her wrist, and the top of her hand is covered in nasty purple bruises, and I hate those bruises. I hate that they had to go through the wrist. I hate how much pain I know she’s in, and the fact that I can’t do a fucking thing about it. More than any of that, I hate the band of thorns still secured on her finger. The only one left out of the stacks of rings she usually wears. The hospital staff couldn’t remove it.

From the other side of the room, Dave calmly says, “We’ll be just outside if you need us, Lex.”

I lift my eyes back to her face as she nods, and her focus settles on me again. A second later, the door clicks closed, and the room is bathed once again in silence. Once again, the most prominent noise I register is the wheezing of her breaths. She shifts on the bed, trying to push herself up a little more, and fuck. I didn’t plan this out at all, and my brain is in shambles as I try to figure out what to say. I rub my sore hands and allow my eyes to drop from her.

“You didn’t come.” Her words feel like a punch to the gut when they finally come out. She doesn’t sound angry. She sounds sad. I force myself to look back at her face, and the expression is too much. Tears rim her pretty eyes, and her chin wobbles. I can’t watch this girl cry these kinds of tears.

“I —” I start, but she speaks again.

“I’m not angry. I don’t think I’m angry.” Her eyes search mine, as if she’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking. The thing is, I don’t know what I’m thinking. “I thought you were dead.” Her voice cracks, and I’m unsure if it’s from smoke exposure or sadness.

My voice doesn’t sound like my own when I manage to whisper, “I’m sorry, Lex.”

“What are you sorry for?”

My heart jackhammers against my ribs as I work to figure out where the best starting place is. Do I start with the fire, or not getting her out sooner? The party and the fact that I behaved like she was something I could possess — my property? The hockey game?

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