I sit down beside my sisters. “Y-you should go h-home,” I say to them quietly. I talk to my sisters. I always have. My stutter isn’t as bad when I talk to them. Not as bad as it is with anyone else.
“We’ll wait,” Lark says. She leans the back of her head against the wall, and tilts it so that she can look at me. She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “He’s going to be fine,” she says.
I take a breath.
I sit quietly as his brothers come and go. Pete and Reagan come out, and Matt and Sky go in. And the cycle continues until everyone has had a visit. Pete kisses Reagan goodbye. It looks like he’s going to spend the night after all. “This is a pretty sucky wedding night,” he tells her.
“You’ll make up for it later,” she teases him. He hugs her, and then walks her and the rest of them out to waiting cabs.
When Pete comes back, I stand up and wipe off the butt of my pants. I should go home. I can do nothing for anyone here.
Pete motions toward the hallway. “Come on,” he says. He doesn’t want the team members or the cheerleaders to see me. I sneak to the doorway and follow him down the hall. The smell of disinfectant tickles my nose.
When we get to Sam’s room, he’s sitting up, but his eyes are closed.
I don’t want to wake him, I sign.
He smiles. “You’re the only one he asked for.”
My heart thuds. He asked for me?
He nods. “He’s a little fucked up.” He grins. “Okay, a lot fucked up.”
I walk into the room and sit down in the chair beside the bed. Sam’s hand lies outside the covers, so I take it in mine. I can see the veins in his hand, stark against his too-pale skin, and I move his IV line over so I don’t bump it.
Sam’s hand suddenly squeezes mine. I look up and find him smiling at me. It’s a goofy grin, and I’m so damn happy to see it that tears fill my eyes.
“Don’t cry, cupcake,” he says softly.
His eyes are barely open, and they shaved part of his head.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I whisper. I tap my thumb on the bedrail, so I can talk without stuttering.
“It’ll take more than a semi truck with a drunk driver to take me out, cupcake.” He laughs, but then he clutches his head. “That hurt,” he murmurs.
“Can I do anything for you?” Tap. Tap.
“Just stay for a little while.”
I scoot my chair closer.
“Where’s Pete?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” Tap. Tap.
“He got married today. And I fucked his honeymoon all up.”
“He doesn’t seem to mind.” Tap. Tap.
He whispers fiercely, “He’s s’posed to be getting laid!”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “He’d rather be here.”
“If I had a choice between having newly-wed, wall-banging, awesomely good sex and hanging out with me, I wouldn’t pick me. I’d be at home fucking Reagan.” His face turns a little green. “Well, I wouldn’t fuck Reagan, because that would be gross. But Pete should be home fucking Reagan.”
His words are slurred and I can tell they’ve given him pain meds. But he still makes me laugh.
“Hey cupcake!” he says, like he just had a great idea. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I say.
“I thought you were ready to kick me to the curb.”
I was. But when I found out he was hurt, it nearly gutted me. “Would if I could,” I say.
“Do you think you could fall in love with me, cupcake?” he blurts out.
I’m startled. I know he’s medicated, so I shouldn’t put any stock into his words, but I can’t help it. “You should get some rest,” I say. Tap. Tap.
“So, that would be a no.” He whistles. Then he scrunches up his face when it makes his head hurt. “I’m in trouble,” he whispers quietly.
“What?”
He squeezes my hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, cupcake,” he says. “I just wish you could love me back.”
“You’ve had a lot of pain meds,” I say.
Suddenly, he grabs the neck of my shirt and jerks me so that I fall over his chest. His lips are right next to mine. “Listen to me,” he says.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“I don’t have much going for me, but I know what love feels like.”
“How?”
“It just is, cupcake. You don’t get to pick who you fall in love with. And God knows, if my head could pick, it wouldn’t be you.”
I push back to get off his chest, because I’m offended. But he holds me tight.
“You’re not easy to love, because you can’t love me back. But you might one day. I’ll wait. But you got to start taking my calls.” He cups the back of my head and brings my face toward his. A cough from the doorway startles us apart. I stand up and pull my shirt down where he rucked it up.