Page 67 of Personal Foul
When she comesoff the elevator, she looks rough, like she’s been crying all night and has barely slept. I imagine that’s probably exactly what she’s done. I stayed yesterday as long as she’d let me, but I hadn’t wanted to stress her out by arguing with her, so when she told me to go, I did. But I’d told Waylon and Liam that she was gonna need the girls. That the news wasn’t good, and we all probably needed to be back here to help her. ‘Cause I know this girl well enough to know that she will run herself to the bone trying to keep everything going and appearances normal at the bar and school while she tries to manage to be at the hospital at the same time. They’d all agreed and come back early. And Liv had volunteered to take a shift at the hospital so we could get her home and get her food and a shower. Now it was my turn to try and get her to take a minute to breathe.
When she gets closer and I see how fragile she looks, how dark the circles under her eyes are, how far from the girl who was dancing and flirting and teasing me just a few days ago she is, I just want to pick her up and kiss her. Hold her and tell her I’m going to make sure everything is going to work out. That I’ll do whatever I can. But I know that her independent streak is a mile wide, and I’m gonna have to handle this with kid gloves if I don’t want to stress her out more.
“Hey. How’s your Gramps? How are you?” I ask quietly when she reaches me.
“As well as he can be. And I’m fine. In need of a shower and food, but okay. “
“All right. Well, let’s get you back home.”
“Thank you so much for picking me up. Do you think you could drop me back off here too? I still need to figure out the bus routes to get down here. I will tomorrow, but today if you could, I’d be super grateful.”
“Of course. Wherever you need to go. I got you. Tomorrow too, if you want. Where do you want to get food? We can get it on the way if you want.”
“Could we stop by the bar? I need to check on things there or I’m going to worry about that too.”
“Yeah. We can do that. Car’s this way.” I nod, and when we get there, I open the door for her, and her eyes lift up to mine and she pauses.
“Thank you. For… this. For being so kind to me. You don’t have to do all this you know. I know this made things complicated and weird. Not exactly the fun we were having before and—”
“Wren.” I stop her, because the way she feels like she has to apologize twists in my gut. “I don’t care about fun. I care aboutyou. I’m doing this because I want to. Okay? You always take care of everyone else. Let us take care of you when you need it, all right?”
“Okay.” Her eyes flick down to the ground, her face going soft like she might cry.
I run my fingers along her jaw and press a soft kiss to the edge of her mouth. She kisses me back and then slides into the seat, and I shut the door behind her.
I take her to the bar, convince her to eat half a burger and some fries, and get her back to her place to shower and grab a change of clothes and supplies, so she can spend another night at the hospital again. But when I go to drop her off, I can’t help but feel like something’s changed. She still kisses me, gives me a hug when she leaves the car, and promises me that she’ll text me later. But there’s just the slightest change in the way she says the words, in the way she presses her lips to mine that makes me feel like it’s more than goodnight.
“Wren?” I start to ask her as she walks away, because I want to ask what’s going on in her head, the one I know is whirring with all the demands of her life right now. And when she turns back and looks at me, still frail and broken looking, I realize I can’t be an asshole. I can’t press her for more than she’s got. She has enough on her plate without me trying to force her to tell me how she’s feeling right now. How she feels about me.
“Yeah?”
“Try to get some sleep, okay? It’ll be okay,” I say instead because I don’t have better words for this.
“Thanks.” She gives me a small smile and then turns back to head inside the hospital.
* * *
Unfortunately her goodnightdoes seem to be turning into good riddance. Because the next time I hear from her directly about something not project related, and not through Waylon or Liv giving me updates on how she’s doing, is a week later when I see her leaving class. And only because I’m following her like a stalker.
“Hey.” I hurry to catch up with her as she’s moving so fast out of the lecture hall that I almost think she’s running away from me.
“Oh. Hey. I’m sorry. I owe you a text. We need to get together about the project.”
“It’s okay. I’ve been working on it. I’ve got stuff to show you, and I’ve been working with Tom on making the orders for the stuff we’d already agreed on. But I’m not worried about the project. I want to know how you’re doing?”
“I’m fine. Just busy. They moved Gramps into a rehab facility, so I’ve been visiting him, and trying to get through the paperwork for all of that. There are social workers and insurance people. And then the bar and classes. I’m sorry I haven’t texted you. I just haven’t had a spare moment.”
“It’s fine. I get it. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. See if there was anything I could do.”
She stops then and turns to me just as we reach the edge of the quad. Her shoulders square and her face straightens. And I know whatever is coming isn’t good for me.
“No. I’m good. You did so much for me. Getting me back here. Helping me get through those first couple of days. You were really wonderful East. I appreciate it so much, and I honestly can’t thank you enough for it.”
“Why do I feel a but coming on?”
“But I’m good. Liv and Kenz, they’ve got me. And I’m good. Really good. Okay?” Her voice wavers the smallest bit.
“I think you need to elaborate on what you mean by good.”
