RYAN
I set my cell to the loudest ringtone and place it on my chest before I rest my head on my pillow. Beth’s supposed to come home from the hospital today and because of that I’ve refused pain medication. I want to hear her voice on the other end of the line and know that she’s only a mile down the road instead of thirty minutes away in Louisville.
Then, for the first time in more than a week, I can sleep deeply.
My body is one slow, throbbing ache. Every pressure point pounds in time with my pulse. Broken ribs, bruised everything, and cuts. Each and every injury worth the cost of saving Beth.
“Can you tell me why?” My dad’s voice carries into the room.
My eyes flash open and I turn my head to see him leaning against the door frame with his gaze pinned to the floor. It’s the first words he’s said to me since I hit him. He’s been around. Present, but not speaking. I don’t feel bad about it, because I haven’t talked to him either…until now. “Why what?”
“Why you risked it all for that girl?”
“Because I love her. And her name’s Beth.”
No response. Sometimes I wonder if Dad knows what love is.
“Scott called,” he says stiffly. “He wanted to remind you that there are rules now. He’s angry with both of you and he won’t be letting her out of the house anytime soon.”
I return my focus to the ceiling. I can deal with rules as long as I’ve got Beth. Scott’s been a mixture of grateful and pissed. In hindsight, maybe I should have called him when I found Beth’s note, but I don’t think Beth would have listened to him. She needed me.
“I don’t think you should continue to see her,” Dad says.
“Don’t remember asking.”
There’s silence and when I glance out of the corner of my eye, Dad’s gone. Who knows if the two of us can fix what’s been broken.
My cell buzzes and my stomach plummets when I notice Beth’s name above the text. She promised she’d call. Friends, right?
I half chuckle. It’s the first text she ever sent me. Always.
The doorbell rings and I rub my eyes. I’m too exhausted for guests, but they keep coming: my friends, the baseball team, my coaches, teachers, my parents’ friends.
Mom and Dad’s slightly raised tones indicate that they’re disagreeing over something, and I don’t care enough to figure out the issue. I expect them to continue the argument, but what I don’t expect is Mom’s voice at the door of my room. “Because I said so.”
She throws a glare down the hallway before addressing me. “Ryan, you have a guest.”
Before I can ask who, Beth walks into my room with her left arm in a sling. The breath slams out of my body. She’s here. Forgetting about my injuries, I rush to sit up—and wince. The smell of roses overwhelms me and I glance up to see Beth by my side.
“You look like hell. Have you been resting at all?”
The right side of my mouth quirks up. “It’s nice to see you too.”
“I’m serious.” Beth doesn’t wear worry well and the ache on her face bothers me.
I capture the hand she uses to try to push me back down, bring it to my lips, and kiss her palm. God, I’ve missed her.
A clearing of a throat and I notice Scott standing beside my mother at the door. “A few minutes, Beth, then we’re heading home.”
Beth nods and I watch my mother’s reaction to a girl in my room. She studies us, almost like someone seeing a painting they don’t quite get. There’s no malice in her expression, just curiosity. “I’m leaving the door open.”
“Thanks,” I say and I mean it. Mom’s trying now—not only with me, but with Mark, and I have Chris to thank for it. He called Mark when EMS brought me into the emergency room. Mark and Mom talked for the first time while I was in X-ray. Both are silent about the conversation they had, but they’re speaking again. It’s a start.
Scott leans his head in when Mom leaves and stares straight at Beth. “Behave.”
She rolls her eyes. “Because the moment you leave we’re going to go at it like wild animals. Please.” She motions to her arm. “Broken bones and bruises are so attractive.”
Scott shakes his head as he follows Mom to the living room and Beth mirrors his movements. Do they have any idea they’re clones of each other?
Beth sinks onto the bed and turns her head toward me. I don’t like how she looks. Beyond the cuts on her face and head, plus the bruises, she’s too pale and dark circles outline the bottom of her eyes. Wondering if I’m dreaming, I reach over and rub her hair between my fingers. It’s silky and real. I let the strands fall and meet her gaze. “How are you?”
I hate the way her forehead crinkles and the pain weighing her features. She closes her eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault he hurt you.”
“Nope, not going to hear it.” I grab Beth’s hand and coax her to lie with me on the bed.
She resists. “But your mom—”
“What’s she going to say? I’m hurt. You’re hurt. We got tired and lay down. I want to hold you so for once in your life can you not fight me?”
“Wow. Someone’s cranky.”
“Damn right I am.” But the knots twisting my gut begin to unravel when I lie back and Beth wraps her body gingerly around mine. She’s hesitant, testing areas first to confirm the contact won’t make me sore, and I’m gentle when placing an arm around her so that I don’t jostle her arm.
When we’re settled, I exhale and close my eyes. I’ve dreamed of this for seven days. Who knows, I’m probably dreaming now. If I am, maybe Beth will do something that’s hard for her; maybe she’ll give me answers. “Why did you believe Gwen over me?”