Page 13 of Conflagration
I’m slowing coming to, slightly confused at first as to where I am. As I open one eye and then the other, I find myself staring up at bright, fluorescent lights, the sounds of familiar beeping filling the room. Looking around, I realize that I’m no longer in Branson’s room—I’m back in mine. Sometime during the night, the nurses must’ve seen me in that uncomfortable position and moved me back to my room. Even though I wanted to stay in by his side, my body still feels like it’s been hit by a truck, and I’m grateful for their care. I can’t imagine that sleeping hunched over like that would be good for my stitched-up torso.
“Good morning, Ms. Covington,” a cheerful voice says as someone enters my room. I turn to see a young, energetic nurse moving closer to my bedside. “And how are you feeling today?”
“I still feel like I was hit by a truck, but maybe a pickup instead of a semi,” I tell her, trying to muster up as big of a smile as I can, which she returns warmly. “And please drop the Ms. Covington. It’s Ari.”
We make small talk while she checks my vitals, declaring that everything looks good and I should be able to leave the hospital within a week after I recover from surgery. It should make me happy, but instead, anxiety sets in at the thought. Then she brings up my fiancé, and I suddenly realize what today is. Or, well, what it should be. My wedding day. The one I ran from. And somehow ended up in a Nashville hospital, engaged but to an entirely different man.
What a freaking mess, Ari.
And even though it’s true—itisa mess—it’s one I don’t regret. Because being able to see him last night, to see that he was alive with my own two eyes? That was worth any lie. Getting caught isn’t what worries me. It’s what I’m supposed to do when I leave this place that’s freaking me out. When I left Benjamin in Atlanta and drove north, I had no idea where I was going. Getting away from there was all that mattered. This unexpected detour wasn’t in the plans, but I guess I have at least a few days to figure out where I’m going.
“Can I see him?” I ask the nurse who introduced herself as Kim.
When she finishes checking my blood pressure, she gives me a sweet smile with a wink. “I think that can be arranged. You two were the talk of shift change this morning, and I think the girls would box my ears in if I kept you away from your fiancé. Oh, and speaking of your man. You’ll be happy to know he woke up for a little while early this morning. Between you and me, the rumor mill says the first thing he did was ask about you.”
My heart flutters nervously, and I try to push the anxiety away. Of course he’d ask about me. Well, probably not me specifically, but the girl from the car, the girl in his arms. He’d been so intent on saving me, as if he hadn’t had any regard for his own life, so it makes sense that he’d ask for me first. But still, the thought is heartwarming, and I’m thrilled to know he’s finally conscious.
Clearing my throat, I try to return her smile. “Umm, that’s good to hear. If we’re done here, I’d really love to get to his room. Now that he’s awake, he’ll be wanting to see for himself that I’m okay. My guy… Well, he’s not exactly the patient type,” I tell her, the lie rolling off my tongue with surprising ease.
She grins again and signals for me to hold on for just one second. Looking around the room and at the IV I’m hooked up to, I know I’m not going anywhere. Her absence is brief, and when she returns to the room, she’s carrying a small, brown bag.
I’m puzzled, and she must be able to read my expression because she laughs as she hands the bag over. “We thought you might want to freshen up a bit. Without you having family close by, and with your fiancé in the hospital, we didn’t know if you’d have anyone to bring you supplies.”
Looking into the bag, I’m grateful, and tears well up in my eyes at their thoughtfulness. Inside, there’s a toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, deodorant, and other hygiene essentials I haven’t even thought of needing. Hell, I haven’t taken the time to worry about how I must look.
“Thank you,” I tell her with tear-filled eyes, and she returns my smile.
“No problem, honey,” she says, patting my thigh. “Last I heard, they were moving him out of the ICU, so while they’re getting him settled, why don’t you freshen up a little bit, and then we’ll see about getting you to your fiancé. How does that sound?”
“That sounds perfect,” I respond, meaning it more than I should, getting more and more used to the title the more she calls him mine.
IT’S AMAZING the wonders a fresh mouth and brushed hair can do for the soul. As much as I wanted to take a shower, I was relegated to staring at it longingly instead of hopping in. With my bandages and stitches, I didn’t want to risk getting anything wet, and I didn’t want to prolong seeing Branson by asking the nurse for help. So I did as much as I could with the face wash and soap, and even though it wasn’t perfect, it was better than nothing. I gingerly ran the brush through my hair, only being able to get the bottom half thanks to the bandages. But again, it could be worse.
Even better, when I rummaged around in my purse, I found lip balm and nearly sighed in relief when I rubbed it over my dry, chapped lips. When Kim returned, I felt like a new person, and the smile on her face either was the product of a truly great bedside manner or meant that she thought I looked better, too.
“Mr. Wellington’s been moved and he’s resting comfortably in his new room. The doctor okayed you to go visit, but he’ll likely be in and out of it for a while. He just had a new dosage of pain medication. Ready?” she asks.
I nod enthusiastically, which causes a sharp pain in my forehead. Grimacing, I bring my hand to my head, and she pauses.
“Are you sure, Ariana? If you’re in pain, we can wait.”
“No, no,” I protest a little too quickly. “In my excitement, I forgot all about the gash on the head and nodded too fast. I’m fine. It’s passed,” I insist before get up from the bed to cross to the wheelchair.
Sitting down, I look up at her expectantly. She’s watching me curiously, and I plaster on a smile, letting her know that I’m fine.
“Okay, but if you start to feel pain or feverish, you’ll need to notify someone as soon as possible. Got it?”
I give her a mock salute and nod, this time slowly. There’s a trace of dull pain there, but it’s manageable. “I’ve got it. Any pain, I’ll inform you first.”Fat chance.I plan on staying in his room as long as I can. When I realize this, I ask Kim to grab my purse for me, knowing I have my latest book obsession inside and it can help pass the time.
We don’t have to go far to get to Branson’s new room. I don’t know if they’ve done this on purpose, but he’s only three rooms down from mine, and I make a mental note of the room number so I can come back later if need be. I’m not sure how long they’ll let me stay with him, but I’m grateful to know he’s so close.
When we enter the room, the sight of Branson catches my breath. I don’t know what I was expecting. The clock on the wall indicates that it’s only been ten hours or so since I last saw him, but he still looks the same. There seems to be a little more color in his face, yet that might just be wishful thinking on my part.
Kim parks me right beside his bed then excuses herself. Looking around, I realize that Branson and I are alone, and I have to wonder where his family is. I know he was convinced that they wanted nothing to do with him, but Jesus, he was in an explosion. Wouldn’t they want to be here?
I take hold of his hand, wanting—needing—to feel his warmth against my bare skin. Leaning forward, I whisper to him again, this time telling him to sleep as long as he needs to. I’ll be here when he wakes up. No matter how long it takes. Just knowing that he’s woken up before reassures me that he’s going to be okay.
As time ticks away, the silence in the room becomes deafening. Normally, continuous beeping sounds would annoy the hell out of me, but not this time. No, each beep signifies the beating of Branson’s heart, and as long as it stays strong and steady, it’s a sound I’d listen to for the rest of my life if I could. The thought crosses my mind just as I catch a glance of my ring, and I smile in spite of myself. Sure, it may be Benjamin’s ring, but right now, no one knows that. As I study it, I’m suddenly aware that I should’ve figured it out all those months ago. What he wanted. Not whom but what.His perfect little trophy wife.
