Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
“Hey.” The medic’s voice is soft. Strong. Calming. “That was a rough fall. It’s okay to be scared. But I’ve seen worse. This is going to be okay. I really believe that. He’s going to hurt, and he’s going to need you to be strong for him. You’ve got this.”
The surety of his voice eases the turbulence of the emotions roiling through me and I force my watery eyes open. They’re clouded with tears and before I can clear them, there’s an awkward pat on my knee. I look down and see Tripp. He’s the one who’s hurting and yet he’s trying to comfort me.
Typical Tripp. I grab his hand and hold it tightly. Tripp has always been the stronger one in our relationship. And it’s always worked for us. But it’s not right now. It’s my turn.
I won’t let him down.
And before I can stop it, a glimmer of hope rolls through my brain.
Maybe I can not let Marci down either.
Tripp
My arm feels like it’s on fucking fire. My whole left side is screaming at me. My head is pounding and though I desperately want to open my eyes and join the living, I can’t quite seem to manage it. The lights are too bright.
But I can sense Levi’s waiting presence, and I want him to know I’m here, I’m okay. Everything is going to be fine.
Even as I have the thought, truths roll through my brain like daggers, poking holes in my positivity.
I didn’t win.
That means we can’t stay in Blue River.
That means we have to leave Marci behind.
I’ve failed Levi, failed myself, failed her.
Fuck. I push through the pain, and my eyes open. Everything is blurry at first and I blink furiously, waiting for the room to come into focus.
Before it does, I hear Levi’s gasp, his boots clacking on the floor as he jumps to his feet.
“Tripp.” One of his hands takes one of mine, and the other roams across my body as if he’s reassuring himself that I’m really here, really awake, really in one piece.
Then the breath leaves him in a whoosh of relief. “Thank god. You’re okay. You’re awake.” His face comes into focus just as it muddles with concern. His brows furrow and his mouth turns down in a frown.
“The doctors say you might have to stay a few nights. They did surgery on your arm. You have a severely displaced proximal humerus fracture.”
I moan, trying to make sense of the words, but even if I knew what they meant, my brain feels too fuzzy to grasp onto anything solid. “English, please,” I groan.
“A break near the top of the upper-arm bone, right at the shoulder.”
“That tracks,” I say, noticing the tight sling. “My shoulder feels like someone’s holding a branding iron to it.”
“I can call a nurse. Get her to check your pain meds.”
“Not yet,” I grunt. I want a few more minutes alone with him. “Concussion?” I ask, only because of the way my head feels like it's being squeezed in a vice.
“Only a mild one, thankfully.” He lets out a haggard sigh. “You got lucky, Tripp. It could have been so much worse.”
I know that’s true, I do, but this still feels like the worst possible outcome. Everything I want feels like it’s slipping through my fingers. “Not lucky.” I manage. “Didn’t win.”
The pain seems to accelerate as if admitting that actually hurt and I shift as if I can roll away the searing feeling ratcheting through my left side. “Marci?” I croak.
Levi looks like he doesn’t want to answer. “I haven’t seen her since it happened. I was hoping she’d show up here, but it's been hours.”
Disappointment stabs my chest, then I remember it’s for the best and say as much, adding, “When can I go home?”
The anger in his voice shocks me when he answers. “Tripp. I think we should plan on staying put here while you recover. You can’t drive, you’re going to be incapacitated, and you’ll need lots of physical therapy.”
There’s more to it than that. I can see it in his eyes. He wants to stay. But I don’t. Not anymore. Blue River represents my personal failure and dashed dreams.
“You can drive,” I grunt. And while it’s technically true, he never does. That’s always me. “We can make it home. There’s doctors everywhere, and the hospital is bigger anyway.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not going to be up to a trip like that anytime soon.”
“We’ll make it work,” I grunt, closing my eyes. I pat the sheets, searching for the call button. Levi finds it first, and hits it before I can.
The nurse comes a minute later, and Levi speaks to her in low tones about my injuries, my care plan, my pain level. She walks over to the bed and watches the machines, then hangs a new bag on my IV. I can hear the whispers and movement but I don’t open my eyes.