Page 66 of Chasing You

I didn’t notice that before.

Marina’s hand flies to mine. “Don’t move,” she says, her voice alarmed.

I just groan, discomfort settling into my bones. I can’t move my head, and when I try to, I realize my neck is in a brace. I just want to rip it off.

Marina stands up, huffing as she tries to rearrange the pillows behind my head. “Didn’t I just tell you not to move?”

“Isla told me you were having dinner with your parents,” I say, ignoring her bossiness. I couldn’t help but notice that everyone showed up to my match but her.

“I was,” is all she says, her eyes focused on all of the machines in the room instead of on me.

“Then why are you here?”

She’s quiet for a moment, and when her eyes finally drag back to mine all I can see is pure fear shining in them.Do I really look that bad?

“Isla called me last night—-when you were still at the gym. She told me you were hurt and I—” she shakes her head. “I had to see you.”

“Well, now you see me,” I chuff, all too aware of the fact that I probably look like I’ve been run over by a bus. “God if Wes was here he’d be dishing out some fucking truth bombs,” I chuckle as best I can.

A small smile picks at the corner of Marina’s mouth. “I feel like I need to meet this Wes.”

“No, you don’t,” I say. “He’d be hitting on you within seconds, making sure to tell me just how big of a fuck-up I am for letting you go.”

She goes quiet, and I immediately wish I’d just kept my stupid mouth shut. I’m betting on Isla to walk in any minute with that doctor to quell the awkward silence but she doesn’t.

“Can you tell me a story?” I ask, her eyes confused as she looks at me. “Give me something to focus on that isn’t this.”

I see her shoulders drop as she sinks into her chair, carefully letting go of my hand. If my reflexes were at their full potential, I would have held it there, would've threaded my fingers between hers, but her hand is back in her lap before I can even think about it.

“My parents are having their forty-year anniversary next month,” she says mindlessly, but her gaze is vacant as she looks over me, like she’s not at all focused on what she’s saying. “Ma wants me to help her organize a big party for it.”

“I can imagine your mom knows how to party,” I say, trying to shuffle down the bed, because I've only just realized how damn uncomfortable I am.

“Miles,” Marina watches me wearily as I slide down the bed.

“I’m okay,” I say. But she doesn’t carry on with her story, she just keeps staring at me, worry finding a home in the lines between her brows.

I let myself stare back, this is probably the longest amount of time we’ve been together in the last few weeks. I don’t let myself linger on the thought that it took me getting half beaten to death to get her in my proximity like this. I’m just grateful she’s here at all.

But I can't help but feel like this might be my one shot. The one time I’ve got her alone for a moment, long enough that I can explain things to her without her running off.

“Can I tell you?” I whisper roughly, looking down at where she spins a gold ring on her finger.

She meets my eyes, hers filled with pain and unshed tears. “What?”

“Can I tell you why I left?”

She’s still for a moment, like this was the last thing she was expecting me to say, it’s not the ideal time, but it might be the only chance I’ve got.

“You can’t let me die without getting this out.”

Her eyes widen, and she moves forward to hit me before thinking better of it. “Miles! You are not going to die. Not on my watch.”

Her face is all serious lines and contemplation. But I see it in her eyes the moment she decides to let me do the one thing I've been waiting weeks to do.

“I can’t really say no now, can I?”

“Not really,” I say.

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