Page 29 of Free Heart
“Not a seahorse.”
Sejin rolls his eyes, kisses my nose, my lips, my chin, and then my cheek next to the stitches. That hurts a little and I hiss. To make up for it, he kisses my nose again.
“I’m definitely a seahorse,” he proclaims. He touches his thumb to my busted lower lip. “We’re gonna have to see about those teeth.” He carefully gets off the bed. “Those snaggles are gonna rip my lips something awful if we don’t.”
I tongue the damaged edges, marveling that they don’t hurt much. The nurse at the hospital said it was because they aren’t actually broken, just badly chipped. The injury hasn’t gone allthe way to the pulp. I’m lucky, she said, because tooth pain is a real agony. So is pain from a broken fucking leg, by the way.
Even so, there’s no doubt I’m lucky. Miraculously so. Not even half a doubt there. I should be dead.
Sejin stops in the door after herding Julio out of the room and turns back to me. “Get some rest. Everything will seem brighter in the morning.”
I think he’s talking to himself as much as he is to me.
The meds lure me under, and when the morning sun rises, things still pretty much suck. Having Sejin help me out of bed, cover my half-cast, and get me into the shower is sheer misery. There’s nothing sexy about him pressed against me fully clothed, getting soaked all over, trying to keep me steady as he washes my hair, my body, and even my ass. I can at least manage to help out with my front, but I lose my balance if I move around too much.
I try to keep my whimpers to myself, but my leg throbs like nothing I’ve ever imagined. It’s almost enough for me to want to beg someone just to cut it off at the knee.
I don’t complain to Sejin, though.
I deserve this pain for the choices I’ve made. I’ve earned it, and he shouldn’t have to suffer with me. I try my best to keep my temper in check when he accidentally bumps me with his arm and the agony flares up to my hip, making me feel dizzy.
Gritting my teeth, I pledge—I’ll get through this and get better as fast as I can. I won’t cause Sejin additional worry or trouble.
I’ve already hurt him enough just by being who I am and doing what I do.
As I watch him putting out a tray of things he thinks I might need while he runs down to town to grab some groceries, I’m filled with gratitude and affection. He’s so beautiful and so good. It might be the meds talking, but I love him so much. I knowdamn well, aside from climbing, he’s my life. If he leaves me, I’ll wish I’d missed landing on that ledge.
I snort. Rye’s right. We really are both drama queens.
But the terrifying thing is… I mean it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sejin
One week since free solo attempt
“Mr. Sejin!”
The chorus of small voices brings a smile to my lips and brightens my spirits. In seconds, I’m nearly mobbed by the kids at Tater Tots, all of them pressing little drawings and glitter-covered cards into my hands.
“They’re for Dan,” Jeanie says, her hands on her hips and her red curls shaking. We’re having classes inside the building now that the weather has started to bluster. The walls are covered in letters and numbers, and the corners are full of enriching activity centers. The center of the room is currently dotted with unrolled yoga mats.
“I see that,” I say, as I peer down at a card signed by Jeanie herself. It depicts a silver, glittery cliff wall, and a painted man dangling from the edge of it. The word “HELP” is in a speech bubble by his mouth, spelled correctly. I assume the director, Heather, hasn’t had the time to check everyone’s work, but this is…hilarious.
And horrifying.
I can’t help laughing a little.
“Are you back to teach us?” Griffin cries out, clinging to my thigh and gazing up at me with pitiful eyes.
“Miss Heather makes us do yoga with Mr. Chris when you’re gone. It’s boring,” Holland complains, and looks only a little chastised when she catches Heather’s eye. “It is!” she insists, not willing to back down.
I know Chris Taggert pretty well, and he’s an all-right yoga instructor, but heisboring. I’m sure the kids would rather dance with me to KPop songs any day.
“I’m not back quite yet,” I say, and I’m met with a chorus of boos and whimpers and even a sob from Lila in the back. I go to her and pull her into a hug. “It’s all right. I’m coming back tomorrow. I just need one more day at home before I can be here for you the way I need to be.”
“Did your boyfriend die?” Tanner asks matter-of-factly, his arms crossing over his chest like a little football coach as his brows furrow up. I can’t tell if it’s with judgment or worry.
