The silence inside the car is almost deafening as I drive back to the hotel, my teeth clenched and hands white-knuckled around the wheel. Olivia stays silent, sensing that I’m an emotional ticking time bomb right now.
Driving down the road, a few streets up from the beach, I spot a small shop that has motorcycle rentals. Without thinking twice, I quickly veer into the parking lot, haphazardly parking in a parking space. I unbuckle my seat belt and open the car door, stepping out.
“Bronx.” I hear the panic in Olivia’s voice. She gets out of the car and briskly rounds the hood to meet me, placing her hand on my chest, eyes full of worry.
I cover her hand with mine, voice strained. “Baby, I just need to clear my head for a bit,” I explain.
Back home, whenever I’m stressed or angry, I just hop on my bike and take off. I ride until I’m able to think straight. I’m afraid if I don’t find some sort of outlet, some sort of escape, I’m going to explode in front of her.
“I just, I don’t want you to see me like this,” I confess, feeling too restless, too vulnerable. “I feel like I’m about to explode and I don’t want you to be collateral damage.”
She nods in understanding, despite the tears misting her eyes. She knows I would never physically hurt her, but she also remembers that the last time I exploded in front of her wasn’t so pretty. I can see it in her eyes that she desperately wants me to stay, wants to help me. I know I could—probably should—lean on her and confide in her, but I’m so used to handling everything on my own. It’s the only way I know how. But I’m working on it. I’ve already shared with her so much—more than I ever have with anyone else—but I just need a moment to myself to get my emotions in check. To figure them out before I can express them to anyone else.
I lean down and press my lips to her forehead, letting them linger there for a beat before pulling away. “Take the car back to the hotel. I’ll be back in a few hours,” I promise.
I go to brush past her but she grabs my arm, making me turn around. Without warning, she stands on her tiptoes, crashing her lips to mine in a desperate kiss.
“I love you,” she breathes, looking deep into my eyes.
Damn it. This girl is going to be the death of me.
“I love you.” Cupping the back of her head, I pull her in for one more kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”
I watch her reluctantly get into the car and drive away safely before walking into the rental shop. The man behind the counter spares me a glance from his computer, monotonously asking how he can help me, and I’m honestly relieved he’s far from a perky, in-your-face salesman.
“I’m here to rent one of your motorcycles,” I say, already shoving my credit card at him.
He rings me up and hands me back my card, along with a pair of keys. “The bike in the very left corner of the lot,” he informs me, and I’m out the door, grabbing a helmet along the way.
I fasten the helmet before swinging my leg over the bike and roaring the engine to life. I rev the engine a few times, already feeling a sense of control and power that I so desperately long for in this moment. In no time I’m taking off down the back roads, trying not to overly exceed any traffic regulations.
The wind whips my face and drones in my ears, helping to drown out my thoughts. I drive with no destination, my mind on anything but direction.
I curse under my breath when I approach a red light, willing it to turn green so I don’t have to fully hit the brakes. To my surprise, given all the glorious luck I’ve had today, the light switches to green and I accelerate, ready to breeze through.
Halfway through the intersection, I hear a car horn blare to my right just as I see a pair of headlights in my peripheral vision speeding toward me from the left. In a split second, icy fear and dread slide through my veins before pain courses throughout my entire body.
Thirty-nine
Whole
The light from the TV casts shadows along the hotel room walls as I mindlessly flip through the channels, hardly paying attention to what’s on the screen. I’m sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard with a wrap around my chest and a cast on my leg.
After two days in the hospital, they released me. I don’t remember much from the accident, but the driver who hit me ran the red light at the last second and smashed right into me as I was going through the intersection. I was in and out of it for a while, only recalling bits and pieces of the ambulance ride, and by the time I was fully conscious they already had me bandaged up and Olivia was at my bedside, scared out of her mind. The doctors claim I’m lucky to have come out of it with only a couple of broken ribs, a broken leg, a shit ton of bruises, and some road rash.
The bathroom door clicks open and Olivia quietly pads into the room, her vanilla body wash wafting in the air. She’s in an oversized sleep shirt and shorts, her hair damp from her shower as she walks over to her suitcase, neatly placing her clothes from today inside.
She glances over at me, finding me awake. Her eyes drift over to the clock hanging on the wall, and I can see her doing the math in her head to calculate how many hours it’s been since the last time I took my pain meds.
Since we got back from the hospital a few hours ago she’s been taking her role as my nurse very seriously. It’s like every ten minutes she’s asking me if I’m okay or if I need something, and while I know she’s being helpful, I can’t help but find it extremely frustrating that I can’t do anything myself. It’s aggravating to feel so useless.
Olivia walks over to the desk where she has all my pills neatly lined up next to the papers the hospital provided. She pops a few of the pill bottles open and shakes out the correct dosages, recapping the bottles after. Grabbing a water bottle, she walks over to my side of the bed and places it along with the pills on the nightstand.
“Take these,” she urges softly, giving me a small smile before wandering back into the bathroom to brush her teeth and finish getting ready for bed.
I grab the water bottle and uncap it, taking a few swigs before grabbing the pills off the nightstand, one accidentally slipping from my fingers and falling to the floor.
With an aggravated huff, and without thinking, I go to lean over the side of bed to pick it up. Pain rips through my side, and I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, letting out a curse. “Fuck!”
