Page 15 of The Heart We Guard
I look up, and with me perched on the edge of the table, we’re eye to eye. Except Greer is standing between my stretched-out limbs.
In any other situation, it would be an intimate thing to be this close to another human being.
“I’ll take whatever you’re offering, Doc.”
Greer smiles. “You’re doing great. Ready to move?”
I nod, and she slides her hands to beneath my elbows.
“I’m under no illusion that I’m going to be much help,” she says. “You’re twice my size and would likely compress my spine if I took all your weight. But I can guide you, slowly. Just keep hold of the cushion.”
I take a deep breath, then another. “Okay. Let’s move.”
It’s a journey to stand and walk, and each shuffled step is a victory. But Greer is with me throughout. Walking backwards as she takes some of the weight in my elbows.
And when she finally has me settled on her sofa, I’m a little sad that she takes her hands away.
“Here,” she says, handing me my phone. “I let Smoke know you were doing okay. Hope you don’t mind.”
“How did you get into my phone?”
She rolls her eyes. “I held it to your finger. Obviously.”
I shake my head. “You look at anything on there?”
“Of course not. And, anyway, technically, you’re my patient, so doctor-patient confidentiality exists. Although, I would say one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You should probably call Ember.”
I glance at my phone with its hundreds of messages. “What do you know about Ember?”
“Nothing. Except she was the last person you mentioned before you passed out. You told me to tell her you love her.” She tips her head in the direction of the phone. “Perhaps you should do that yourself.”
I look at my phone with the same annoyance I always do. My dyslexia gets in the way of texting. I rely on voice-to-text apps. And there is no way she can hear what my messages may say or what I need to tell my brothers.
As if sensing my turmoil, Greer leaves me, and I hear her footsteps on the stairs.
First, I voice message Ember. “Hey, sweetheart. I got a little banged up. I’m going to be fine. Just need to stay where I can get fixed up.” I’m deliberately vague. I don’t know if my messages are being tracked. “I’ll be in touch when I feel a little better. But just wanted to say—” I blow out a breath and say the words I never thought I’d get to say again “—I love you.” I hit send on the message and watch as it appears in our chat.
Next, I send a voice note to Smoke, brief for the same reasons. “I’m okay. Safe. Lying low for a couple of days. Will be in touch.”
It’s the simplest message I can think of.
Because the truth is much more complicated.
I hope the club, fragile as it was when I left, will be okay with me gone for a little while. That they’ll welcome me back when I return. Even as I wrestle with the fact it feels really good to be out of the melee.
5
GREER
When I saw Butcher in the parking lot, I didn’t think much beyond saving his life. I didn’t think through that it would mean him in my house for a prolonged period of time.
Or what would have happened if he died and I had to explain the presence of a dead body, surgically opened, on my dining table.
I relied on two things: One, I would save his life. And two, because of the life he leads, he would never report me, even if I botched something.
