Page 24 of Love Unavoidable
I really don’t feel injured. I feel more giddy than tired. Like I am wired. Or just drank three pots of coffee.
Oh god, what must I look like?
I throw back the covers to go check a mirror, when I hear a soft knock on the door.
“Come in.” I pull the covers back up over my legs and try to sit up further in the bed. The door opens and in walks Ethan.
If the Ethan from earlier was good looking, then, holy hell’s balls, this one is that times ten. With his tie and suit jacket off, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, and the top few buttons undone, he looks positively edible. Like I want to nibble on him right now. Starting at his lips and working my way down his neck. No, maybe starting at that neck and working my way down his chest.
Good lord, I must look like one of those cartoon characters whose eyes pop out of their heads on springs at the sight of an attractive member of the opposite sex.
“Hey,” he whispers as he comes around to the side of the bed. He crouches down and runs his knuckles across my cheek. I lean into the caress. Who wouldn’t? It feels amazing.
“I was worried about you,” he continues. “I mean, you know, professionally of course. You gave us a scare, you were out for a while. How do you feel?”
“I feel good, actually, which is weird. I don’t feel like I suffered a brain injury.” I use my fingers to make air quotes at the words brain injury.
“Well, you may not feel it, but it’s definitely there.” He takes my hand and holds it loosely in his. It feels nice. His hands are rough and warm. Mine feel cold and small in comparison. A shiver runs through me.
“Are you cold?” he asks pulling the blankets up higher around me.
“No, I’m good.” I smile.
He stands, then turns to grab a chair and pull it closer to the bed, not letting go of my hand entire time.
“They want to keep me here overnight,” I tell him.
“That’s a good idea,” he says. “They should keep you longer than that.”
“No, good lord no. Tonight is going to be boring as watching hay bale as it is. Plus, I’m a sitting duck if I’m here. My mother can come and go as she pleases and there is no one around to stop her.”
“Well, where are you going to go? You need someone to keep an eye on you for a couple days at least.”
“That’s what the doctor said too. It’s not like I’m on death’s door for goodness sake,” I say. “Although, funny I should mention that because I thought I was dead, and the big bright white light had come to take me away. Turns out it was just the doc looking at my pupils with his little pen light and I was dreaming.”
He laughs with me at that.
“It’s just a little bump on the head. I don’t need taking care of. I’m fine.”
“Did the doctor talk to you about the headaches? The nausea?” Ethan asks.
“Yes and yes.”
“Well, then you should realize that it’s no laughing matter.”
I look at him and our eyes meet. His gaze warms me from head to toe. He has the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen on a man. Except for maybe that man from Grey’s Anatomy who plays Jackson Avery. But even then, I think he would be a number two to Ethan.
The door to my room opens, I’m expecting the nurse, but my mother storms in instead.
“The doctor tried to convince me that I could not come back here to see you because you already had a visitor and you were tired. But I told him you would never think of me as an ordinary visitor and that whoever was already back here surely did not matter,” she says, looking pointedly at Ethan. “You can go.”
He stands as though to leave, so I squeeze his hand and pull him back toward me. Ethan gets the hint and takes his seat, running his thumb softly over the top of my hand and knuckles in a soothing gesture—something I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing. My mother gives him a scathing look, then strolls around the hospital room examining everything. Picking up what few things there are, then putting them back down again. Her Gucci pumps with the scary spiked heel click with each step on the linoleum floor, Stella McCartney gown still as pristine and wrinkle free as it was this morning, and her hair big and coifed, sprayed to the point of impenetrable perfection.
She pauses at the foot of the bed to address me. “The doctor says you can go home tomorrow. I have reserved a large room at the hotel your father and I stayed in. You can rest. And maybe I can finally get caught up on things so that I too can have a rest. If I should be so lucky. I’m so behind, this wedding did not help. And you know how sick I have been lately. I can’t sleep, plus the pain in my lower back that never goes away. I’m so tired, it makes it impossible to really get anything done.”
I tightly squeeze Ethan’s hand in lieu of saying anything in retaliation to my mother. Like, maybe if you didn’t drink so much you wouldn’t be sick, Mom. Or tired.
“I appreciate the offer, Mama. But I already have somewhere to go.”
