Page 59 of Goodbye Again
“Low blood pressure can be scary. You’re very lucky he brought you in when he did,” she says, wrapping the wire around the cuff of the blood pressure monitor. “You’ve got a good man.”
My heart drops, but I don’t correct her. He is a good man. He’s just not mine.
I glance at my IV, dripping fluids into my body. The rhythm has slowed quite a bit, but it’s still dripping on the fast side. “Um, I need to use the restroom. Am I allowed to get up?” I ask. It’s odd to be afraid to stand, but just hours ago, I could barely lift my head off the floor and JP had to physically carry me into the hospital, and they carted me into this room.
Robin smiles. “That’s a good sign. Just take your IV with you, and I’ll wait outside if you need assistance.”
I slowly maneuver my way to the bathroom on wobbly legs and pee. When I stand to wash my hands, I catch my first look at myself in the mirror in two days. My face is pale and my eyes are gaunt. My warm brown eyes are now void of the richness they once held and shiny brunette locks have lost their shine. It’s a wonder my face ID still worked on my phone.
When I make it back to the hospital bed, I collapse as much as I can while attached to an IV, then grab my phone.
I have twenty-three unread texts from Lena and Claire. I don’t read them thoroughly because I can register the concern that morphs into teasing at just a glance.
The last four texts punch me in the chest and bruise my heart.
Lena:hes got it bad for you julia
Claire:What code of ethics?
Lena:it doesnt matter sacrifice everything
Claire:the man is IN LOVE!
fourteen
KEVIN DEVOURS ME WITHkisses when I make it through my apartment door.
They discharged me this morning after a solid twelve hours, and several bags of liquid miracles poured into my veins. JP had already called and was headed to the hospital after dropping Kevin at my place and grabbing me a clean change of clothes, so I wouldn’t have to wear the vomit hoodie I wore to the ER.
The intimacy of these actions should rattle me.
This man, JP—a quick love interest and whirlwind spring fling we deemed unsuitable—is taking my dog for overnights and packing me clean panties for the hospital.
But it doesn’t rattle me. It doesn’t make me feel awkward or want to push him away. It makes me want to propose.
I laugh a little as the thought crosses my mind and wince a little as the action—and Kevin’s aggressive affection—forces me to tilt my head back, reminding me my spinal cord is still inflamed.
“You okay?” JP asks, helping me to my feet.
“Yeah,” I say, though the pain makes my eyes fall closed. “I had no idea a stiff neck could hurt this bad.”
“Meningitis is no joke.”
“If it is, it’s not even trying to be funny,” I mutter, and he lets out a breath of a laugh. “God, I need a shower.”
He nods as if it’s an order, zipping down the hall to start the shower, putting a clean towel on the counter.
I smile at him as I lean against the doorway to the bathroom. “Make yourself at home.”
“You’re sick. I care about you,” he says, opening the glass shower door. “Don’t read into it.”
It’s so hard not to.
“I’m not.” I shrug.I am.He sets a bell on the counter. “What’s that?”
“A bell,” he says so platonically it’s as if he’s telling me the sky is blue. “If you need help or collapse or—”
I wish there was slight innuendo in his offer, but there’s not—just concern. My heart thrums a little louder as I think of everything that transpired in the last few days and how he witnessed me, nearly lifeless on the floor, covered in vomit, and sweating through my clothes.
