Page 57 of To the Moon and Back
Brady watched Jenna, the way she moved, the efficient way she had of putting his things in their proper place. Everything about her was familiar. Not because they’d spent so much time together, but because he had memorized every detail about the hours they had shared.
He would never forget them.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping.” She smiled over her shoulder at him. “The doctor said, remember?” For a moment she studied the room. Then she took the chair by his bed. “You’ll need your strength.”
I need you, he wanted to say. But he kept his thoughts to himself. He didn’t want to scare her. He leaned back into the pillow. “I’m not tired.”
She took hold of the arms of the chair and watched him. “The doctors forgot they were dealing with Superman.”
“Exactly.” He laughed and winced at the same time. Any movement of his chest still hurt. He began to cough and with the energy it used to take to finish a two-hour workout, he pushed himself higher up in the bed. When he’d caught his breath he used the button on the side of his bed to move to a sitting position. “Okay.” He gasped. “Sorry.” He steadied himself, refusing another wave of coughs. “Maybe not Superman.”
A smile lifted the corners of her lips. A seriousness came over her. “You are to the people in that retirement home.” She stood and came closer, poured him a fresh cup of water and handed it to him. “Eric says the whole place would’ve burned down if you hadn’t held the hose on the middle for so long.”
“I don’t know.” Brady closed his eyes for a long moment. He was more tired than he wanted to admit. Again he looked at her. “Better me than him.”
“He said you’d say that.” She angled her head, studying him. “You need anything?”
There were a hundred ways he could answer her. But he only smiled and shook his head. “I’m okay.”
“You need more water.”
“True.” He swigged back half of it and then looked at her again. “Thank you, Jenna.” Her name on his lips still was more than he could believe. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I’ll leave soon. I’m in town because I pulled together photos of my parents for the memorial. Photos and a few personal items. I’d never done that before.”
“Oh.” He felt the slightest disappointment. She wasn’t here for him, after all. “Glad you did. That’s important.”
“Right now, what’s important is you.” She leaned toward him, her eyes dark with worry. “We need to get you walking.”
Brady stared at her. He couldn’t talk. Couldn’t do anything but look at her. Not because of his injuries, but because he felt like he was caught up in some beautiful dream. Her being beside him, the two of them so close like this . . . none of it made sense.
“You’re really here?” He held out his hand. She looked the same as when she was seventeen, but more beautiful. She had a confidence that hadn’t been there before. “I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”
She slid her fingers between his. “I’m here, Brady.”
He was still on medication for pain, and his mind wasn’t fully clear. Details about the accident were gone, probably forever. The swelling in his brain meant that some days he still struggled to remember his address. But even if he were completely recovered it would be difficult to comprehend that a stranger named Ashley Baxter Blake had actually found Jenna.
And even harder still to believe was the fact that Jenna had come to him. That she had stayed these last few weeks. He’d had surgery on his legs and now both of them had been fitted with metal rods. His spine had been fused to help his back heal and he’d had a skin graft operation for his right calf.
But she was here. That was all that mattered.
His doctor had said there was no telling how well he’d walk or if he’d walk. Firefighting was almost certainly out of the question. Brady didn’t believe a word of it.
Jenna had found him. Anything was possible.
“You’re a miracle.” She released his hand and took a step back, toward the door. “You look so much better than you did. Even a week ago.”
He couldn’t stop watching her, couldn’t stop staring into her eyes. “You texted Ashley, right?” Sometimes he felt like he was repeating himself. But he tried not to let that bother him. This part was critical. Ashley needed to know. “You told her I’m okay?”
“I did.” She leaned forward. There was no end to the concern in her eyes. “You want something?”
“The last eleven years back.” He smiled and forced himself to relax against the bed again. “But no food. Thanks.” He checked the clock on the wall. “You leaving?”
“In a bit. I told Allison I’d make dinner.” She hesitated. “I’ll get a cup of coffee and come right back. At least for an hour or so.” She moved closer to the door. “We still have a lot to catch up on.”
“I like it.” He watched her go. Their conversations had been in fits and starts. When they weren’t being interrupted by a doctor or a therapist or a nurse drawing blood, he’d been sleeping. But every day he was a little more awake, more able to carry on a conversation.
Brady closed his eyes. No one had thought he’d live through the trauma. But here he was. Coughing every few minutes, still working to clear his lungs, still fighting to prove the doctors wrong. Now that he’d lived, they were worried about his future.
