Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“Me too, but they’re going to kick me out pretty soon,” I said. “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow though, and every day after that.”
“Do you promise?”
“I do.” I gently squeezed his hand and told him, “I’ve got you, Collie.”
After a few minutes, he started nodding off, and the nurse whispered to me that I should let him get some rest. I was still holding his hand, so I carefully tucked it under the covers.
His eyes fluttered open, and he searched my face as he rasped, “Please don’t forget about me.”
That made my heart ache. “I won’t. You can count on me, Collie.”
He whispered, “Okay,” before letting his eyes slide shut again. It was so hard to leave him there, even though I knew the hospital staff would look after him.
When I got home, the house was utterly quiet. It had been like that for most of the last year, but now it felt strange. I realized I’d gotten used to having Collie around, even in just a few short days. Without him, this place felt lifeless and empty.
I’d come in through the connecting door to the garage, and I felt surprisingly lost as I wandered from room to room. I found the cat sitting by the front door, waiting for Collie to return. I told her, “He’s not coming back tonight,” and she looked at me over her shoulder. I could almost swear that she sighed. Then she went back to staring at the door.
“I get it,” I said softly. “I miss him, too.”
11
Collie
My hospital stay was supposed to last about a week. But it stretched into two, and then three. I’d started battling a fever and some sort of infection soon after my surgery, and it went away and came back twice. They wouldn’t send me home until they were sure it was resolved.
Even though I was climbing the walls, it was probably a good thing that they hadn’t released me yet. I was still healing, and weak as a kitten. It would have been a lot for Miller to try to take care of me in this condition.
I turned my head to look at him and was overcome with gratitude. I’d just woken up from a nap, and he was right there beside me. The poor guy had fallen asleep sitting upright in a chair, not for the first time.
He’d come to the hospital every single day since I’d been here. These weren’t quick little visits, either. He stayed for hours, day after day. Sometimes when I was resting, he brought his drawing tablet and tried to work. When I was awake, we played cards, watched Netflix, or had long, meandering conversations about whatever random subject came to mind.
I couldn’t begin to tell him what all of this meant to me. He was the only thing that made my hospital stay bearable.
Just then, he woke up with a half snore-half snort, which made me smile. When he noticed my untouched lunch sitting on the table, he asked, “Want me to get you a smoothie from the cafeteria?” I had almost no appetite, and they were just about the only thing I could tolerate.
“Maybe later.”
“Okay. Let me know when you get hungry.” He got up and stretched his arms over his head. My gaze automatically flickered to the bare skin that appeared above his waistband when his T-shirt rode up. Not that I had any sex drive these days, but he was still nice to look at.
As he stretched his back, he said, “You must be happy about finally getting out of here.” I was allegedly going to be released the next morning.
“I would be, if I believed it was actually happening.”
“It should. Your fever hasn’t come back, and you’ve been doing great.”
Great was a bit of a stretch, but I was making progress. The stitches on my huge incision had come out a week ago, the doctor was dialing back my pain meds so I wasn’t quite so loopy, and I’d been able to gradually increase my slow laps up and down the hall.
I knew I was getting better, but it was happening at a glacier’s pace. I had very little energy, and I didn’t know when my appetite would return. Plus, every time I coughed or sneezed, I had to grab a pillow and hug it to my chest, because it felt like my sternum was going to split in two.
I wanted to be back to my old self. Not that I’d been the most energetic guy on Earth, but I’d felt so much better than I did now.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. I read the message and told Miller, “Jeannie wants to video chat. How horrible do I look?”
He gently brushed my hair back and said, “You look beautiful, Collie.”
He was a liar. I knew that because he always said the same thing. He’d even said it a day or two after my surgery. Then I’d caught a glimpse of myself and saw that I actually looked like an extra in a zombie movie.