Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Cal rubs my back and after a few moments, I begin to calm down and the dry heaves stop.
“Sorry,” I say to him with a groan.
Sorry.
I fucking hate that word.
It means nothing, it’s just five letters. Five letters that have left my mouth more times than I care to admit, even when I had done nothing wrong.
“Lucy, please stop apologising,” Cal says, and I move my head to the side to look at him. The sorrow on his face has my heart sinking a little more. I hate him looking at me like that.
I go to say sorry again but quickly clamp my mouth shut.
“I can’t go back to that apartment, Cal, I’d rather sleep on the street.” My prison, my hell, my own personal horror movie. I want nothing to do with it. I want nothing in it.
“When I said home, I meant my place,” Cal says and once again he shocks me. “I only want you to stay if you feel comfortable with the idea,” he adds, and I hate that he shows signs of me doubting him and his intentions.
Cal is the one man that I have never doubted. He’s had my absolute trust for years. Our bond is strong, and I pray that it will never shatter.
“I don’t want to put you out,” I say, getting on my own damn nerves with the way that I just can’t believe that I’m not a burden.
“It’s not putting me out. Fuck, Lucy,” Cal says, running his hands through his hair and pacing up and down the room. I’ve annoyed him, exasperated him. “Our bond goes back years, and goes way deeper than anything else, and you know that you’re not a goddamn burden to me.”
“Sor––” I clamp my mouth shut before I can finish that dreaded word. “You’re right. Thank you, Cal.” It’s all I can say at this point.
“Good.” He nods his head at me and then the door opens, Doctor Malone walking in before anything else can be said.
“Morning,” Cal and I say at the same time. He gives me a smile and even with my heart sliced to pieces, he still gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling. A feeling of being at peace.
“How are you feeling today, Lucy?” Doctor Malone says as he retrieves a chart from the end of my bed.
“A little sore, my throat hurts, and I sound like I’m a fifty-cigarettes-a-day-smoker, but apart from that I’m doing okay.” Christ, I’m so far from okay I might as well be in another dimension, but I’m so sick of everyone seeing how weak I am.
“That’s understandable given what you have been through,” Doctor Malone says as he puts the chart down and comes to the other side of my bed. Cal hasn’t moved from his spot beside me, and I feel his hand gently cover mine. I refrain from closing my eyes at the contact. A gentle touch, full of more warmth than anything Michael ever gave me.
“Can I take a look at your neck?” Doctor Malone says, and I nod, unable to speak. I tilt my head so that my neck is exposed, my eyes fixated on Cal, his fixated on mine. Silent words pass between us.
It’s going to be okay.
I wish I could have done more.
We are going to get through this, together.
Our happy ending is waiting, it’s just going to take some time to get there.
Our.
Us.
Together.
“You’re going to be left with bruises, but they will fade in time, and I can tell you that no other permanent damage was done,” Doctor Malone says, dragging my eyes from Cal and to him. “The pain when you try to speak will fade, but it will take time, so try to whisper and don’t strain your voice-box.”
No other damage?
