Page 120 of The Weight Of Falling
“No, he didn’t,” Joel says quickly. “John was stabbed, but we got to him in time. He’s going to be fine.”
Relief washes over me. “Oh, thank goodness.” My eyes keep closing and a heavy numbness spreads through my limbs. “They’re trying for a third,” I mumble. “John wants a son.” My words are starting to slur.
“I’m not surprised you know that,” Joel murmurs. “Rest, love. I’ll take care of you.”
I close my eyes.
When we get to the hospital, it’s a blur of bright lights and white walls and reassuring voices. When a nurse gently suggests Joel step out while they deal with my cuts, I break into hysterical sobs and she relents. Joel can stay.
After that, there are no more suggestions he leave. I think it’s the look on his face. It must be the look on mine too. We are twosurvivors after a shipwreck, clinging to each other in turbulent waters.
What matters most is this: we survived.
52
Time feels abstract now, like fog on glass I can’t clear. Everything is gentle and far away, as if I’m watching through water. There’s the soft scrape of a chair, a nurse’s kind eyes, warm hands changing my dressings, a blanket lifted higher, the pad of footsteps. Words like shock and fluids and pain control float around me like dust motes.
The rest comes in fragments, and that’s how I remember it. Between one blink and the next, my hospital room empties and fills again. Brief visits from people I love, fussing and trying not to look like they’re fussing.
Mom strokes my hair back from my forehead. “We have Turbo at our place, so don’t you worry about him,” she tells me in a soft voice. “He’s already ruling over the other dogs, but they don’t seem to mind. Everyone adores him.”
Dad gives me a shaky smile. “Don’t worry about your place, either. I’m looking after the garden and double-checking all your locks.”
“The whole town is here for you and Joel,” Mom adds.
They drift to the door, Joel walking with them.
“You rescued our Kenzie,” Mom says. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“No need to thank me,” Joel murmurs, and I hear the discomfort in his voice.
“You were there for her when she needed you,” Dad says. “In our books, that makes you family.”
They both hug him. Mom starts to cry quietly, and Dad slips an arm around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room, his voice low and soothing as he comforts her.
“Stop beating yourself up,” Aaron says evenly. “We got to her in time.”
“No, we didn’t,” Joel fires back, his tone seething with anger. “If we’d gotten there in time, he wouldn’t have laid a hand on her. He wouldn’t have cut her. Look at her arms,” he whispers, the fight dropping into anguish.
“Go home,” Aaron tells him firmly. “Shower. Eat. Sleep. Take care of yourself so you can take care of her.” He squeezes Joel’s shoulder. “I’ll stay with Kenzie.”
“You won’t leave her?”
“I won’t leave her,” Aaron promises.
Sofia bursts into my hospital room, her hair a beautiful halo around her face, her eyes wild with worry. She’s brought a change of clothes, a hairbrush, my favorite throw, and my cozy socks.
A lump rises in my throat. She knows exactly what I need. When I catch her eyeing the walls, I say weakly, “They won’t let you paint them.”
“They can try to stop me,” she retorts. And then, with a dismissive glance at the white walls, she sits on the edge of my bed, concern stamped across her features. “You’re rocking the whole pale Anna Karenina look.”
“And here I was going for Julie Andrews inThe Sound of Music,” I joke.
Sofia gets up to plump up my pillows and top up my water. She can never sit still for long.
Tess walks in. “I brought flowers.”
I eye the giant bouquet of tulips. “My favorite.”
