Page 136 of Wild Side
“You can’t be mean to someone with a broken back.”
Her eyes roll. “Your back isn’t broken. At this point, I’m more concerned about the concussion, because you’re acting a fool.”
I almost laugh. It’s soherto be both furious with me and supportive in the same breath.
Someone comes in and leaves me with a contract for the procedure, which draws my attention away for a while as I read through it carefully.
I clear my throat and turn my head to look over at her. “Can I put you as my emergency contact?”
“Does a broken back make a person this confused?”
“My back isn’t broken.”
“Oh good. Maybe the concussion is healing after all.”
God, she drives me nuts—in the best way. Calling me on my shit left and right.
“Tabby, can you just answer the question?”
“What do you think?”
I swallow, letting out a thread of my inner turmoil. “I don’t know.” It seems obvious that my wife would be my emergency contact, but I just don’t know right now.
She drops the phone flat on her leg, blowing out a heavy, exhausted sigh. This woman who moved mountains and traveled all night to get to me without even being asked. The truth is, I wanted her to know I was okay, but I never expected her to come.
Old habits die hard, I guess.
Her head shakes as she makes her way across the floor toward me. Then she kneels at my bedside, dropping the railing down so there’s nothing blocking our view of each other. “Rhys.” She props her elbow on my mattress and holds her pinky up. “I pinky promise to always come back.”
My throat feels tight. It hurts to swallow. Seconds pass as I regard her. Then I wrap my pinky around hers and squeeze as I nod firmly. “I pinky promise to always come back.”
“You fucking better.” She laughs as she returns my nod.
And then she drapes herself over my torso, hugging me as gently as possible.
A strangled laugh bubbles up out of me as I wrap my arm around her narrow back. Andfuck, holding her might be the best feeling in the world.
Ending up here is almost funny if I think about it. It reminds me of her marching into my house all those years ago, forcing her pinky swear on me.
I remember thinking she was fierce and loyal and fucking incredible. I remember wondering what it would feel like to have someone like Tabitha love you.
And now I know.
Surgery is a success, and five days after that, I wiggle my toes.
Tabitha is like a barnacle, stuck to my side, questioning every doctor and therapist. She refuses to leave the hospital, and our next disagreement is about her sleeping slumped in a chair. I don’t like it, and she doesn’t give a flying fuck. Luckily, she hits it off with one of the nurses, who takes pity on her and hides an extra rolling cot in the room.
One she pushes right next to mine. And just like before, I spend many a night watching her sleep, reveling in her nearness.
And once I’m moved out of the ICU, she makes it her mission to bring me extra meals. She’s firm when she needs to be, and kind when she wants to be. I’m pretty sure she drives my therapists up the damn wall.
The only person she swaps out with is Will. He doesn’t talk much, except to apologize. He looks tired and disheveled, but he never stops showing up.
He’s here at physical therapy with me today because Tabitha went to a local gym to have a workout and a shower. I hate thinking that she doesn’t get any downtime, that she’s living out of a bag and sleeping on a shitty bed because ofme. But she never complains, so I’ve decided to just surrender and let her take care of me.
She’s taken time away from the restaurant, but everyone has pitched in to help. Cleo and Milo are both cared for. The walks are getting shoveled since snow has finally fallen. It’s a team effort. A family effort. It’s a foreign experience. But Tabitha has shown me it’s okay to lean on people. That I’m not a burden. That indeed, they will come back even when it seems inconvenient.
The guys from bowling even took a trip on Ford Grant’s fancy-ass private jet to visit. It was the surprise I never expected.Friends.
