Page 28 of The Voice We Find

“You don’t say,” I tease.

“See?” A lopsided smile fills his face. “Spunky. And still you managed to get me here somehow. Not a small feat.”

“Guess you’re not the only one who can be stubborn at times.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he peeks at me with one eye. “You should go home, Sophie.”

“What?”

“I’m a big boy,” he says on the tail end of a yawn. “I’ll call a rideshare once I’m discharged. I’m good now, thank you.”

“Are you firing me as your chauffeur? I can assure you I’ve never had a single ticket or accident.” Of course, I don’t tell him I took off driving for the last eight years.

“No, I’m giving you back your night.” Eyes closed again, he makes an exaggerated shooing motion with his bandaged hand. It’s utterlyridiculous. “Now go. I’ll see you tomorrow at the studio. Unless you decide to quit after today. Completely understandable.”

I rub the chill from my arms and then spot his sweatshirt hanging on a hook by the curtain. I pull it on and hunker back down into the seat. “What if I enjoy hospitals?”

“Liar,” he says. “Nobody enjoys hospitals.”

“You definitely seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“For the moment,” he says almost incoherently. “But I’m not usually the patient. It’s much harder to be the one in your seat.”

I scrunch my eyebrows in, wondering at such a statement. But then I feel something in the pocket of his zip-up sweatshirt. Something small and crinkly. I pull it out and then have to bite back my gasp. In my palm lies a yellow star shape cut out of construction paper.Superstar Readeris written across the front in black Sharpie with one point pricked through by a safety pin.

He made me a badge.

I look from the fragile paper star in my hand to the sleeping man in the bed and decide right then that I don’t care how long it takes the drip line to empty or for Bruce to bring his discharge papers. Something tells me August could use the rest.

And inexplicably, I want to be the one here when he wakes up.

I slip the star into the back pocket of my purse to keep it from tearing, text Dana an update and a plan to reschedule soon, and watch a self-proclaimed stubborn stranger sleep.

I don’t know how conscious he is when he slides his free arm over the top of the blanket to where my hand rests, but when his warm skin covers mine, my heart feels a bit like that fragile paper star in the pocket of my purse.

And for the first time since meeting August, I think I might be in real trouble.

Voice Memo

Gabby Tate

3 months, 3 weeks, 5 days after the accident

I haven’t done one of these in a few weeks. Mostly because there hasn’t been much of anything new to tell, but after last night, I figured I should probably update you. Or I guess, update me? I don’t know. I’m pretty tired.

I had to wake August up in the middle of the night. It took me a couple of hard shakes to get him to respond, but when he did, he grabbed at his chest like he was ninety-six and not just twenty-six. If I hadn’t been in so much pain, I’m sure I would have laughed.

My left ear had started ringing sometime after dinner last night. I didn’t say anything to August then because I figured it would go away on its own. It usually does. It got a little better when I laid down, but then it woke me up out of my dream, and it was a good dream, too. I dreamed I was with Mom and Dad and that they had come home for a visit. I kept asking them to stay, but they just kept telling me they loved me. Anyway, the pain in my ear finally woke me up. It felt like a knife jabbing over and over into my skull. I’m not sure if I was crying from that or from the dream.

August must have been able to tell something was really wrong with me because I’ve never seen him move so fast. He almost forgot his shoes in the house! We drove to the emergency room, and thankfully they got me in to see a doctor right away. We were there most of the night, running tests and pulling up my medical file to add notes for when I see my doctor tomorrow afternoon. The pain finally did fade like the nurse promised, but when I saw the ER doctor say the wordsurgeryto my brother, I almost cried again. I asked him about it later, and he told me not to worry and thatwe’d have to see what my doctor says. I tried to act brave, but the truth is I don’t want another surgery. I’m beginning to really hate hospitals as much as August does. On the way home, he took me to get a cookie pizza, and I swear I’ve never tasted anything so good in all my life. I saved the leftovers for breakfast.

I prayed that God would help me remember what He did for me after the accident. How when I was scared, He took away my fear. I asked Him to do that again. I don’t want another surgery, but I do know I can trust Him. So that’s what I’m going to do.

8

August

It’s been thirteen days since I woke up holding Sophie’s hand at the hospital. Thirteen days of her showing up at my studio prepared to nurse a wound she didn’t cause. And thirteen days since a secondary infection took me by surprise.

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