Page 32 of Ripple Effect

A lump forms in my throat. I don’t have a roommate or a partner, and the thought of having my family hovering over me for the next two weeks isn’t exactly comforting. Before I can answer, Daisy stands up, the chair scraping against the linoleum.

“I can stay with him,” she offers.

I whip my head around to look at her, my chest tightening. “Daisy, you don’t have to—”

“Really, it’s no problem,” she insists, crossing her arms as if that could fortify her position.

I want to argue, to tell her she’s done enough for a guy she barely fucking knows, but the words catch in my throat. I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move from tumbling into a chasm.

Dr. Foster raises his eyebrows, looking between the two of us. “Well, if Ms. . . .?”

“Grey,” she offers, her gaze never leaving mine.

“Right, if Ms. Grey is willing to stay with you and you’re comfortable with it, I think that’s an excellent plan,” he says, peeling off his gloves and tossing them into a nearby bin. “It’s essential to have someone nearby in case there are any complications, especially during the first few days. Ms. Grey, I’m sure the nursing staff can provide you with basic instructions on what to look for and what to do if he has another episode.”

Daisy nods, her gaze flickering between Dr. Foster and me, her determination unwavering. It’s a look I’ve come to recognize in the past few weeks, a look that tells me she’s not going to be easily dissuaded.

She’s essentially offering to uproot her life to stay with me, to help me during one of the most uncertain times of mine. The gratitude I feel is overwhelming, but there’s also a strange twinge of guilt mixed in.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask her quietly once Dr. Foster has left the room.

She gives me a small, understanding smile. “I’m sure, Elio,” she says softly. “I’ve got you. Besides, you’re not, like, a murderer or anything, right?”

“I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.”

Her soft snort of laughter fills the room, easing a fraction of the tension. “I’ll take my chances,” she says, standing up. “I’ll go find a nurse for those instructions.”

Left alone in the room, I find myself staring at the ceiling, the events of the day weighing heavy on my mind. My chest feels strange, not painful, but definitely not normal, either.

This Holter monitor is just an unfamiliar weight. And its wires, hidden under my shirt, feel like a leash, a constant reminder of my condition.

When Luca finally arrives, he opts to call me from the parking lot to avoid disturbing the other patients. An NFL player showing up at a hospital, seemingly out of the blue, is generally a cause for commotion. So, I’m glad he had the forethought to keep things discreet.

With Daisy’s help, I settle into the wheelchair provided by one of the nurses, her every move exuding care and caution. As we approach Luca’s truck, he remains tight-lipped, but the concern glinting in his eyes speaks volumes.

The ensuing car ride is largely silent, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. I can practically see the gears turning in Luca’s head as he navigates both the road and his concern. Eventually, though, he cuts through the quiet. “Still no concrete answers?”

I shake my head, glancing down at the monitor under my shirt, patting it with a firm hand. “Yeah, they still don’t know what caused it. Might just be stress, a panic attack, a random spike of adrenaline. Who the hell knows? But they’re hoping this will give them some answers.”

His gaze is fixed on the road, but his fears hang heavy in the air. “And this has nothing to do with ... coke or anything like that?”

The abruptness of the question feels like a sharp slap to the face. I know he has every right to ask, but it still stings. I’ve been clean for years, and hearing the question brings back a surge of unwanted memories.

“I’m clean, Luc,” I assure him, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror.

He blows out a breath, and the relief in his eyes brings me a strange sense of comfort. It feels good to know that he still takes me at my word. “Good. Stay that way,” he says, his voice carrying a brotherly sternness I haven’t heard in years.

As we reach my apartment, he claps me on the shoulder before stepping back toward his truck. “Call me if anything changes, okay? Don’t make me regret not telling our parents.”

I give him a small smile, hiding the fear creeping into my heart. “I promise.”

“Good to meet you,” Daisy squeaks out, her sweet voice carrying across the lot.

Luca turns, as if he’s just now realized we’ve had company this whole time. A flash of red heat creeps up the back of his neck, and he awkwardly clears his throat. “Right, sorry,” he says. “Good to meet you, too. Take care of my brother, will you?”

She gives him a beaming smile. “I’ll try my best.”

As he pulls away, we’re left standing alone in the parking lot.

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