Page 97 of Heartfelt Pain
“I said you needed to get a life,” he says under his breath.
“What does that mean?” I ask, my lips curving up into a smile at the smell of gossip. Trevino doesn’t say another word until I’m discharged.
CHAPTER 22
Ren
It turns out to only be a really bad sprained wrist. They tell me to ice it and finally give me some fucking meds.
Trevino helps me get back home. I don’t make it to the bed. He pulls a throw blanket over me when I sprawl on the couch and sets down a glass of water on the coffee table.
“Eat.” He holds out a granola bar. “I’m serious. Those meds will do more damage on an empty stomach.”
I don’t want to, but under his watchful eye, I eat not only one granola bar but two.
He closes the door behind him and I sleep in a deep fitful way. Shadows cast the living room in gray and I lose all sense of time and dimension. My phone lights up occasionally, but I’m surprised by the number of messages when I wake up hours later.
It’s almost four in the afternoon. I slept for a solid six hours. My muscles groan as I stretch my back out, but I hiss when my wrist moves.
Ben sent a few texts. The typical ‘What’s going on?’ Abe called and I see that later on he sent a follow-up message tellingme he got all the information he needed by finally contacting Trevino.
At least one friend isn’t passive-aggressive.
Isolde: You say when and I’ll show up with weed and pizza.
Ren: That’s my favorite combo. I’ll let you know when I need it.
There’s a smattering of other emails, voicemails, and texts. People complaining about their upended schedules.
There’s no way I could’ve made it through the day. I’ll never admit it, but I’m glad Trevino took me to the hospital. But I’m off-balance as I find myself at home, alone on a weekday afternoon. It’s not like when I met up with Isolde yesterday. I actually missed work this time.
The back of my neck is hot and sticky as I take stock of my life when I get a text from Trevino.
Trevino: The Zimin asshole is here. Do you want me to let him up?
There are perks to being the kid of the boss, but I sit up wondering if Roma took time off work early to come here.
Trevino: I think he’s got ice cream with him.
I’m a total goner. Not only because of the sweet treat but because even Trevino, the serious, grumpy man, takes Roma’s reappearance into my life as a certainty.
Roma comes in with two paper grocery bags. His shoes join the crowd by the door and he kisses my forehead before he heads to the kitchen.
It’s all rather domestic as I sit on the couch still rubbing sleep and confusion out of my eyes.
“Do you need another one of these?” Roma studies the pills on the counter.
“I think I need to eat more.” I nearly gag on the water Trevino set out for me. It’s so fucking boring. I don’t know why people think it’s that great.
Roma opens a drawer and takes out a pot. He puts away the groceries as he boils water. I take the chance to go to the bathroom, moving around stiffly.
I’m back under my throw blanket watching reality TV when he presents me with a bowl of mac and cheese.
“Is that for me?” I ask wistfully when he pops open a Dr Pepper. He takes a sip and makes me finish my water.
There’s not much talking. I’m too tired, the pain is only dulled by the meds. I curl into his side as the TV plays, constantly careful about how I hold my wrist.
He helps me change into pajamas since I didn’t bother earlier. He pulls the bedcovers back and I’m glad the sheets were freshly changed. Not because I don’t wash my bedsheets, but I’m not good at making the bed up. The sheets are pulled tight, the duvet lined up and covering me. It’s not some mass of tangled bedding.
