Page 44 of Rescue
Chapter 21
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Penelope
Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .I’m too exhausted to even reach out and turn my alarm off.It’ll shut off eventuallyI think to myself. The beeping persists, and the more awake I am, the more I start to realize that the noise I’m hearing doesn’t really sound like my alarm. I move to reach my arm out and stop it, but my arm feels strange. It’s heavy and isn’t moving the way it should. Puzzled by this, I try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy. I hear some murmuring somewhere, though I can’t quite tell what is being said. I try to turn my head in the direction of the talking, but it doesn’t cooperate. I’m still so tired, so I do my best to ignore the beeping and fall back into slumber.
Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . .I think to myselfJust 5 more minutesbefore trying to roll over. As I start to shift my body, something feels wrong. For one thing, that’s not the noise my alarm makes, and for another, it’s too bright in this room for me to be home. I groan as I start to wake up, aches and pains popping up all over, but the worst pain of all is the one coming from my head. I try to open my eyes to figure out what’s going on, but it feels like it takes monumental strength to even attempt to lift my eyelids. I feel something shift on the bed next to me and hear footsteps moving around next to me. Confused, I knit my brow together and focus hard on getting my eyes open.
It takes a lot longer than it should, but when I eventually flutter my eyes open, it feels like a victory. I can just make out someone sitting beside my bed, but I don’t get enough time to see where I am or who it is.
The next time my eyes flutter open, I’m a little better at keeping them open and get a decent look around the room. I hear a gasp come from the person sitting next to me, but my eyes are already shut again. I finally get them back open, this time feeling a little more confident in keeping them open. I try to focus my eyes on the person next to me, and after a couple seconds of processing, I realize it’s Miles. Our eyes make contact and he gives me a small encouraging smile. “Hey, baby,” he says in a tender voice and I’m tempted to close my eyes again and just enjoy his voice, but something is nagging at the back of my mind. It feels like we have something to talk about but I’m not quite sure what that is.
I’m happy to see him, of course, but a little overwhelmed and confused by what’s going on. I take my eyes off of him to look around again and notice that he’s holding my left hand and attached to my right is an IV with all kinds of tubes and wires coming out of it. I try to think about what I last remember, but right now it just feels like a big cloud where my memories should be.
“Miles-” I start, but he interrupts me.
“Shh, baby, just get some rest.” He brushes a hand over my face, pushing my hair out of my face and soothing me.
I’m relieved by his offer for more sleep. I sigh and let me eyes close, content to let them stay closed for a while longer.
Sometime later I open my eyes. It’s much easier this time. The fog from earlier has mostly worn off, though my head is still pounding. I look around the room and see Miles hasn’t moved from his earlier position. He’s still holding my hand while he is asleep sitting in a chair next to me, slumped over on the bed. His grip on my hand is like a vice, even in his sleep. It’s adorable.
My movement must wake him, because his eyes flutter open and when he sees that I’m awake, he sits up quickly.
“Hey,” I say, a little lost for words.
“Baby, I’m so glad you’re ok,” he says in a rush, leaning forward to kiss my forehead, as though I’m something precious to him.
I’m still not really knowing what to say so I say what I’m thinking. “What happened?”
“You were in an accident last night,” he says with concern, anguish, and guilt written all over his face. “We made it to you just in time. How are you feeling?” he asks as he gently runs his free hand over my forehead, pushing my hair out of my face.
I try to search my mind for a memory of an accident, but I come up with nothing. “I don’t remember,” I say, feeling a little upset that I still can’t come up with anything that would explain why I’m lying here in this bed.
“Shh,” he says, reading the anxiety on my face, “It’s ok, P, you’re going to be alright. The doctor says you just have a concussion and some minor scrapes and bruises. You’re going to be fine, babe.”
His words calm me, but when I look at him, it feels like there’s something I’m forgetting. I try to focus on what it is that’s nagging at me, and all of a sudden, memories from my apartment in the city flood back to me: Our time in the parking garage, Miles leaving to pick up lunch, Spencer showing up and kissing me, Miles running off, and then my terrifying drive through the mountains in awful weather. I close my eyes against the onslaught of memories and try to absorb the feelings, but I must let out a cry or whimper because Miles stands up. I open my eyes to see what he’s doing and see him reach for the call button next to me on the bed.
I reach out to stop him and look up into his eyes. Now that I’m more awake, I look him over and notice how rough he looks. His hair is a mess, like he’s run his hands through it hundreds of times. He’s wearing the same thing he wore with me to the city and his eyes are bloodshot. He must have been awake all night.
“Miles, you have to listen to me,” I start, tears immediately coming to my eyes. He reaches up and brushes my face with the back of his knuckles in the most tender way.
“No, you don’t have to say anything,” he says, interrupting me. “I know. I heard your voicemail. But even then, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I should have stayed and listened. This is all my fault,” he says as his eyes roam my body as if to reassure himself once again that I’m actually here in front of him, alive and in one piece.
My head is pounding and I’m struggling to stay awake, but it’s important that we have this conversation now, so that everything is out in the open. “What you saw . . . you have to know--”
“I know, baby, of course I know,” he says, and I can see in his eyes that he means it.
I reach my left hand up to brush his face. “Miles, I love you,” I say to him. This might not be the best setting for this, but oh well.
He gasps, his eyes wide as he looks at me, unbelieving for a few seconds before his face softens and he leans down to press his forehead against mine, “I love you, too. I love you so much and I’m so thankful that you’re ok.”
My eyes drift closed for a few moments while I enjoy the simple intimacy of the moment. I love this man, and I’m so glad he’s here with me. I’m roused awake when he starts talking again.
“Your mom and Nana went downstairs for some breakfast. Amy is with them. They should be back any minute,” he tells me as we’re still locked in this strange embrace. Him leaning over the hospital bed like that can’t be comfortable, but I’m enjoying having him wrapped around me too much to make him move. After a couple minutes, he kisses my forehead as he rises up and settles back into the chair he’d been sitting in.
“What happened?” I ask. “I remember some of the drive, and how bad the weather was getting, but then there’s nothing.”
