Chapter 24

Stephanie

I dial Jules’s phone and put my own up to my ear as I walk toward my apartment building. It’s a beautiful day out and I decided to take a walk around downtown, finishing up at the grocery store, as I was craving some lemon spaghetti for dinner.

It appears lemons are my new craving and I can’t seem to get enough: lemonade, lemon candies, lemon cookies, lemon in my water, and tonight, lemon spaghetti.

“Hey,” she answers somewhat out of breath.

“Are you in the middle of something?” I ask her as I stop at an intersection and wait for the light to cross. It’s rush hour and traffic is heavy.

“No, just trying to wrestle three kids into the house for dinner,” she says, and then calls out, “Levy…do not put that in your mouth. You can have it after dinner.”

I laugh silently to myself, and wonder what trials and tribulations I’ll face as a mom.

“Sorry about that,” she says back into the phone. “So are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Yup,” I tell her as I watch the traffic light. “What time?”

“I’ll have the kids packed off by 8:30 A.M., so anytime after that,” she replies. “I’m so excited.”

I am too. I’ve ordered in a bunch of games and crafts for the kids to do at Sweetbrier next week. Jules and I are going to have a play date tomorrow morning to go through everything and rough out a more structured agenda for the field trip. I don’t mind going to her house, as the Cold Fury are leaving today to travel to New Jersey for game three of the eastern conference finals. The Cold Fury took games one and two at home, and are looking stronger than ever.

Lucas is playing his best hockey in my opinion, and it’s like he’s got super amazing focus or something. This makes me happy for him, and a little sad for me, since he’s clearly not being weighed down with thoughts of me or the baby. Still, I refuse to think about it too much and I absolutely don’t talk about it with Jules, since she confided that she reamed Lucas’s ass for what he said to me.

I see the cross-traffic’s light turn yellow and know that I’ll be clear to cross soon. I hitch my grocery bag up on my shoulder and take a step closer to the curb. “Okay, I’ll be there tomorrow. I’ll bring some lemon tarts to eat for breakfast.”

“You’re still on the lemon thing?” she asks with a laugh.

The light for pedestrians turns green and I take a step off the curb along with a guy to my left. I chastise Jules as I step into the street. “Don’t make fun of my cravings.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of it,” she says with a laugh.

I start to laugh too, but then I notice from my peripheral vision the guy to my left jumps backward to the curb. My head starts to swing that way and I see the car too late. It’s already bearing down on me, and the last thing I remember is the man reaching toward me and yelling, “Get back.”

A beeping sound penetrates and I groan, wanting it to go away. I’m so tired and sleep is so lovely. But then I hear voices and I struggle to open my eyes.

The minute I see a nurse adjusting an IV bag near me, it all comes back.

Me stepping into the street.

The car coming.

A man yelling at me.

And then I was in an ambulance. I remember that, and fuck, my left wrist is throbbing, but I remember it hurting worse.

And my head…

I lift a hand up and gingerly touch the bandage starting near the top of my forehead and extending into my hair.

“You okay on the pain?” the nurse asks me, and I nod.

“I’m pregnant,” I mumble, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

“We know,” she says with a smile. “You told us several times.”

I nod again, because I think I remember that. “Is the baby…”

“The baby appears to be fine. Strong heartbeat.”

“Thank God.” I exhale with relief.

“Do you remember why you’re here?” the nurse asks as she leans over my bed and places a Styrofoam cup with a straw to my mouth. I take a grateful sip of cold water.

“Car was coming, and someone pulled me back, but something hit my arm. And then I hit my head somehow,” I rasp out, then take another sip of water.

“That man probably saved your life,” the nurse tells me. “The car’s side-view mirror hit your wrist and it’s fractured, and you got thrown into the light pole and hit your head.”

I nod again and grimace. “I remember getting a CT scan. And the doctor setting my wrist. It’s coming back.”

“You’re a little groggy,” she says with a smile, and places the cup in my hand. “We’ve got you on some morphine for the pain.”

“And that’s okay with the baby?” I ask.

“It’s fine,” she says. “You’re only getting a small amount and we’ll give you a safe pain medication to take home. You’re really lucky. The break was clean and you’ve just got a minor concussion. They’re going to admit you once a bed opens up and keep you overnight, just for observation.”

“Okay,” I whisper, my eyes starting to feel heavy again.

Then they pop back open when I hear Jules’s voice. “I’m looking for Stephanie Frazier.”

“She’s in there,” an unknown voice says, and then Jules is rushing into my room and goes pale when she sees me lying in the bed. She looks at the cast on my left wrist and the bandage on my head, and tears well up in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” I say with a smile, and then wave her closer to me. She comes to the bed and takes my hand in hers. “How did you even know I was here?”

“We were on the phone and I heard screeching tires and yelling before the call disconnected. I kept trying to call you back and got no answer, but then about five minutes later, some guy calls me and told me you’d been hit by a car.”

“Must have been the guy that pulled me back,” I muse. “Guess my phone’s okay.”

“He dialed the last number, as he’d seen you were on the phone,” she says. “I had to wait to get a baby-sitter then I got here as soon as I could.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” I scold her gently as I shift up in the bed a little, wincing because my head really hurts when I move. “They’re going to admit me and I should get out tomorrow.”

Jules bites her lip and then asks fearfully, “The baby?”

“Fine,” I say as I squeeze her hand.

“Oh, thank God,” she practically wheezes. “I was not looking forward to calling Lucas with this news.”

“Don’t call him,” I blurt out, and then shoot a look to the nurse, who is typing into a computer by my bed, but she doesn’t seem to be listening. “I’m fine. The baby’s fine. He’s on his way to New Jersey for a play-off game, so let’s not stress him out about this.”

“He’d kill me if I didn’t tell him,” Jules says with a pointed look at me. “He has a right to know.”

“No, he doesn’t,” I tell her with an empathetic but firm voice. “Sure…if the baby was at risk, I could see it. But it’s just me with a broken wrist and a few staples in my head. He absolutely doesn’t have a right to know about that.”

“Stephanie,” Jules says pleadingly. “Trust me. He’d want to know.”

“No,” I say, not in a mean way, but again very firmly. “Don’t bother him. I feel really strongly about this, and it’s mostly my hurt over what he said to me that’s talking right now. Just…give this to me, okay?”

I can see she wants to fight me, but she eventually just nods and says, “Okay. I won’t bother him.”

“Thank you,” I say with an apologetic smile. “It’s just…better this way.”

“If you say so,” she says dubiously.

“And you don’t need to stay here,” I tell her as an afterthought. “I have great nurses to look after me.”

“That’s not something I’m going to argue with you about,” she says just as firmly, and I know she means business. “The kids are at the neighbors’, who can watch them all night. I’m going to stay until you get into a room, make sure you get settled, then I’ll go.”

“Okay, fine,” I tell her before I let out a huge yawn. “But don’t expect me to entertain you. This morphine is making me sleepy.”

“You can’t go to sleep,” Jules says quickly, and squeezes my hand again.

“Actually, she can,” the nurse says, and she must have been listening in. “She’s got a mild concussion, but it’s fine for her to sleep. We’ll wake her up every four hours or so to check on her, though.”

“See,” I say as I look back to Jules. “I’m going to go to sleep and you’re just going to stare at me. So go home. You’ve been assured I’m fine, and if you want to come back tomorrow, I’d love it, but you don’t need to sit here in an uncomfortable chair and watch me sleep.”

Jules chews on her lower lip, her gaze going to the nurse, who says, “She’s in good hands. If you want to leave your number, I’ll call you when we get her moved upstairs and tell you the room number.”

Looking back to me, Jules asks, “Are you sure? I hate leaving you alone.”

“I’m used to it,” I say without thinking, and I watch as Jules blanches at the reminder I’ve always been a loner. Her eyes start to mist up and I give her a stern shake of my head. “Don’t you cry. It’s forbidden.”

Jules laughs…well, snorts, and then looks at my sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I ask curiously.

“No one should ever be fine with being alone,” she murmurs as she leans over and kisses my cheek. “I hate that you feel so comfortable with me leaving.”

And now I’m the one that gets a film of moisture over my eyes. I blink them harshly as she pulls back from me and smile confidently. “You’re sweet, but you shouldn’t worry about me.”

“Someone has to,” Jules mutters as she stands up from her chair. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. With something lemony for you.”

“Yay,” I say as I start to lift my hands to clap, and then I wince as I realize I have a cast on and my head is still throbbing.

“Go to sleep,” Jules says, then blows me a kiss. She turns to the nurse, gives her number, and waves as she walks out the door.

“You need anything?” the nurse asks, and I finally look to see her name on her credentials hanging on a lanyard around her neck.

“Yes, Tabitha,” I say her name. “Is my phone around here?”

She nods and turns to a plastic bag with the hospital’s logo on it. “It’s in good shape considering what happened to you. Just a tiny crack on the screen.”

She smiles when she hands it to me and then leaves.

I hold the phone in my good hand, contemplating it.

Wondering if I should make the call.

Trying to decide how much of a glutton for punishment I am if I do.

Figuring that life’s too short—which became readily apparent to me today with the close call that I had—I turn the phone on and dial my parents’ home number. Their housekeeper, whose name I don’t know, answers. “Frazier residence.”

“Yes, hello. This is Stephanie Frazier. Is my mom or dad available?”

“Just a minute, miss,” she says, and then there’s nothing but silence for a few minutes. I wait and wonder what’s going on, but then she’s back. “I’m sorry, Miss Frazier. But your parents have asked if they can call you back. They’re in the middle of something right now.”

A grim smile tips my lips upward and I say, “Can you let them know I’m in the hospital?”

“Oh, well…yes, please hold on and let me tell them,” she says in an urgent tone. Again, silence, and they must have a hold feature on their phone system. Within moments, the housekeeper is back. “Um…Miss Frazier, with all apologies, they said they are tied up with something very important but they asked for me to, um…find out what happened…and well, to get your information and they’ll call you back as soon as they are done.”

Jesus, the sympathy in her voice pierces through me deep. She’s horrified by their reaction, and yet it’s exactly what I expected. It confirmed to me what I had thought all along.

It’s better to rely only on yourself, because people have the brutal capacity to shred you to pieces even in their neglect of you.

“That’s okay,” I tell her gently, more for her feelings than for anything. “They can call me on my cell phone when they get a chance.”

“Of course, I’ll tell them,” she gushes, then adds, “I’m sure if there’s anything you need, they’ll be right on it.”

I can’t help the laugh that pops out of my mouth. I want to disabuse her of that, but figure she must be new to their employ, and why even bother her with the cold hard facts about my parents?

“Thank you,” I say quietly, then disconnect the phone.

I think for a few more moments before tossing my phone onto my lap. I see the nurse walking by the open curtain of the ER bay I’m in and call out to her.

She stops, pokes her head in to look at me. “What can I do for you?”

“Do I have to stay overnight if I don’t want to?” I ask her.

Her eyebrows draw inward and she steps into the room. “You can leave, but I wouldn’t advise it. It’s best for you to stay the night and let us keep an eye on you.”

“Unless you tell me I’m in mortal danger, I think I’d like to go home,” I tell her with my chin raised.

“You’d have to check out against medical advice,” she says.

“I’m aware of that,” I return calmly. “But I think I’d just be more comfortable resting at home.”

“Do you have someone who could stay with you?” she presses.

I lie to her face so I don’t have to continue the conversation. “Yes. My friend who was just here. If you can start to work up the discharge papers for me, I’ll call her to come back.”

“Okay, then,” she says, but I can tell she’s not happy with me.

It takes almost two hours to get the paperwork done, and I think it’s because they were hoping I’d get frustrated and just stay. I assure them I have a ride, and God bless the Uber app, there’s a car waiting for me when the nurse wheels me out of the emergency room doors.

The driver’s nice and actually helps me all the way to my apartment door. I give him a tip, which he doesn’t refuse, and I’m glad.

Then I walk into my room, crawl into my bed, and fall asleep.