Page 141 of Heavy
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Calista
Ronanfellbackasleepnearly immediately after coming out of his comatose state. I’d had to wake Eamon to go get the nurse because I was worried that he was having one of those last minute moments of being alive, and his heart was going to give.
Thankfully, I was just being dramatic, and he was fine.
I mean, as fine as someone that was shot three times and had pulmonary edema could be. The doctors said they were surprised he was capable of even breathing on his own, but they warned he will likely have lasting effects since he was breathing in the smoke for several minutes, if not into the ten or fifteen range.
Ken’s recollection of the events are slightly fuzzy, only because he was hopped up on adrenaline. I don’t blame him, even I can’t really recall everything that happened.
The only thing that matters is that Ronan is alive and seemingly recovering.
It's been three days, and he's been awake for a total of maybe three hours. The first time he woke, he asked to see Ken and the rest of his family, who’d all been sleeping out in the waiting room. Ronan told them to go home, saying I’d call if anything changed. He was more worried about Mia being with a babysitter than about them staying by his side, which was almost funny—he cared more about the babysitter’s credentials than his own condition.
Eamon and he talked the second time he woke, and when they were done, he dismissed his brother to go see his wife.
The third time he woke, for barely thirty minutes, he asked me to tell him everything. So, I did, recounting every detail. I told him about meeting Samantha at the coffee shop, setting my townhouse on fire, planning for him to be at the cabin, and even my attempt to poison him. I left nothing out.
I begged him to believe me that I only did it for a week or two. It wouldn’t have been enough to cause damage. He laughed because he swore he was dying every time he drank and blamed it on just the lack of practice. However, the true reason he stopped was because of me. His worry was that something could happen to me, and he’d be too inebriated to help. I was ready to kiss him until both of our lips were numb, but he then promptly passed out.
It's day four in the hospital and he's finally able to stay awake and eat solid food. He seems to think that having me feed him would embarrass me, but as I push the last spoonful of Jello into his mouth, I just smile. Honestly, it only makes me feel more loved.
He licks his lips and adjusts himself against the stacked pillows behind him. “I prefer the blue raspberry.”
“Ew, we are breaking up,” I joke.
“I swear if you break up with me over a flavor choice, and I stayed after you nearly got me killed… I may lose my mind.” I know he’s joking, and I need to get used to it. There's this lingering sense in my chest that he’ll keep bringing it up, finding some way to make a joke about it every chance he gets. And that’s fine, I'd rather hear him teasing than face a world where he’s six feet under, leaving me without him.
As he pushes the cart away and raises both hands, signaling for me to come over, I don’t hesitate. Slowly, I crawl up beside him, settling onto his right side—careful to stay clear of where he’s injured. I can’t wrap my leg around him, not with the bullet wound in his thigh. Thankfully, it was a clean entry and exit, so it’ll heal soon, and before long, he’ll be chasing me through the woods again.
His fingers thread gently through my very greasy hair. I haven’t showered, too worried about leaving him for even a few minutes to use the hospital’s facilities. The most I’ve done is run downstairs—literally sprinting—to grab him snacks from the store.
“I forgot to ask,” he says before placing a kiss on the top of my head. “The cabin.”
I sigh heavily and rub my face against his chest. “Gone. It will have to be rebuilt or left as just land.”
His hand travels down to my neck, his thumb brushing against my jawline. “Let’s rebuild it.” I tilt my head up, his chin down to look into my eyes. “We need more rooms anyways.”
My lips pull into a smile. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
“Not by a long shot,” he groans. “Bad pun. You’ll be getting a collar…” I gasp. “Uh huh, and a fucking spanking you’ll need a few weeks off to recover from.”
I laugh through my teeth and nod my head. I suspect a lot of me graveling, sucking his dick, and some bondage in my future. I’ll take my punishment like the good girl I can be for him.
“Why do we need more rooms?”
“You know.” The sound of the door opens, and I mumble unintelligible words, not wanting to be interrupted. It doesn’t stop Ronan from continuing, “For the dogs.”
A flutter of butterflies fills my stomach, and I quickly lean up to press a kiss to his lips. He winks at me, but then his gaze shifts, and his smile falls instantly. The sudden change has me snapping my head around, searching for whatever just soured his expression.
“Mom?” I immediately begin to lean up, but Ronan quickly grabs my arm, keeping me right where I am.
It's not that I care about how she looks, but I've never seen her in this rough a state. Eamon follows close behind, though he bypasses her without so much as a comforting word or gesture. He moves to the other side of the bed, where I'm now sitting up, and then turns to face my mother.
“Sweetheart…” As she starts to speak, Ronan’s grip on me tightens. I'd told him everything that happened at her house—how she lured me into that trap, right to the Serrano’s. He said she’s lucky he can’t get out of bed for anything but a piss, or she’d have more to worry about than just his glare. “I’m sorry. I was looking out for Gene, too, you know. It was a difficult situation.”
I drop my head at the mention of her. I’ve sent her several texts and haven’t heard anything back from her.
