Page 76 of Wreckage of Us
I move my hand around, unsure of what I’m looking for. I know what it is when I come into contact with Becca’s hair. Her head is resting next to me, making me smile.
“You’re awake,” she jumps up and leans over me. “Here,” she grabs a cup off a side table. “They just brought this here. It’s ice cubes,” she explains. “It’ll make your throat feel better.”
My lips feel incredibly dry when I open my mouth, and she puts a small ice cube on my tongue. It hurts when I swallow while it also feels so fuckin’ good, I could sob.
I try to push myself up on what I now realize is a hospital bed. The movement makes my chest feel like it’s on fire. I look down and see the edges of a bandage sticking out of the hospital gown I have on.
“What the fuck…”
“It’s from where you g… g… got shot,” Becca finally spits out. She always stutters when she’s nervous, or angry, or… scared. Right now, that is the best sound to my ears, her little stuttering, without the being scared part.
“I love you,” I croak out just as I swallow the last few drops from my ice cube.
“I… I … I…” she starts.
“Shhh…” I just wave her over to get closer. “Stay with me,” I whisper and open my arm out for her to slide in next to me.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Her protest is weak, especially when she rushes to get on the bed and rest her head gently on my shoulder, on the side farthest from my injury.
“I’d rather be hurt by you,” I manage to say just before sleep takes me under again.
I have no idea if it is hours or days that we go like this, same pattern over and over, until I get to open my eyes at some point and not feel like I am slowly dying.
“About fuckin’ time,” Wyatt’s voice startles me from out of nowhere. I turn my head and see him slouching in one of the visitor chairs. My eyes go around looking for Becca. I try really hard not to panic when I don’t find her.
“Ma took her home for a quick shower and to feed her,” Wyatt informs me casually. He then stands up and stretches his long body, making all sorts of noises of relief as he twists from side to side. “Fuck, these chairs are brutal.”
“How long have I been out?” I try to do the math in my head, but I really can’t figure out what day it is today, or even what day it was when it all went down.
“Four days.” I hear what Wyatt is saying but I can’t process the information.
“I’ve been out forfourdays?”
“Correct.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
“Pretty much,” Wyatt agrees.
“Becca and the baby…?” I can’t handle it if anything happened to either one of them, no matter how small of an incident.
“Everyone is fine,” Wyatt assures me again.
“Ethan?” I rush to ask.
“Brother,” Wyatt gives me a chastising look. “You really sound like you didn’t think I’d take care of your son.”
“That’s not what I meant at all,” I assure him while trying to rearrange my large frame in this stupid small bed.
Wyatt’s smirk disappears from his face. “I know, dude. Ethan is great. He’s at Jon’s house with Ali.”
“Good,” I nod in appreciation.
“Your father on the other hand,” he chuckles, “is most definitely not okay.”
My blood pressure spikes on the spot at the mention ofmyfather. I’m gonna kill that fucker, I decide. I cannot wait.
“He’s dead,” Wyatt announces without any fanfare.
