“This isn’t your fault,” I said, feeling even worse. Elliot shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty. I’d left him alone, even knowing that there was an asshole out there who’d been threatening him. “I shouldn’t have?—”
I broke off when the hand with the IV reached weakly toward me. I gently took it in both of mine, careful not to touch the IV itself. “Don’.”
I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to not do, but I stopped talking, pressing my lips together and his fingers between mine. I tried to think of something to do, some excuse to direct Elliot’s attention somewhere other than me, because all I could feel was guilt and grief.
I was saved from the depths of self-recrimination by the arrival of the nurse, who went about asking Elliot questions about how he felt, his pain levels, if he had any nausea, and, finally, whether or not he wanted any ginger ale. By the time she left to get it, his speech was clearer and his eyes were a little less unfocused.
I’d let go of his hand and sat back when the nurse arrived, trying to stay out of the way, both physically and obtrusively.
Then Anna-the-nurse returned, getting Elliot situated with a cup of ginger ale and a straw. Then she turned to me. “Will you be staying with him while he recovers?”
I nodded. I’d take off work if I needed to. Or maybe I could get Henry or Judy and Marsh to take turns coming over to Elliot’s house. I was pretty sure all of them would be willing to help out. They all loved Elliot.
And I needed to call Henry. Shit.
Nurse Anna began to go through the drug and physical therapy rehab that Elliot had to follow, handing me a series of small packets describing potential signs of infection or clotting, the schedule for the anti-inflammatory and pain medications, and the exercises and their frequency.
Honestly, it seemed like a lot of work just to recover from surgery—and injury. While it had taken me a while to recover from Arcanavirus, I hadn’t had a schedule of physical therapy, compression, ice, medications, and so on to follow. When I hadn’t been at work, I’d slept—or tried to—and eaten, and nothing else. Noah had done everything else for me.
And I would do the same for Elliot. Even if that meant taking off work. Putting on hold the other things I wanted to do with my life. There was no resentment, no annoyance, although I wasn’t happy aboutwhyI was going to do it.
Elliot was more important than any other plans or schedule. If I had to wait longer to finish my fire training, to take the CFI exam, to save up enough money for the things I needed… Then that’s what I’d do.
I was pretty sure Lacy would let me take PTO for a few weeks to take care of Elliot, even though I think technically I wasn’t supposed to get vacation or anything until after I’d been employed for six months, and I hadn’t quite gotten there yet.
I just had to hope that I didn’t get fired for it. I didn’t think Lacy wouldwantto, but state rules can be draconian, as I was fully aware after my bout with Arcanavirus led to me being encouraged to leave my job—aka, getting fired without getting fired.
But Elliot came first.
I had the distinct feeling that Elliot wasalwaysgoing to come first.
It was… weird, how something like that had just hit me. Maybehitwasn’t the right word. It just… was. It was a newreality that just was there. As inextricable and unquestionable as the fact that Noah was my twin and best friend.
Or, maybe, he had been. He was still my twin, obviously. But maybe Noah wasn’t my best friend anymore. Maybe that was Elliot. And maybe I wasn’t his, either—maybe that was Lulu for Noah, now.
The weirdest part was the fact that this wasn’t some great revelation. It was just a fact.
“You don’t have to do any of that,” Elliot told me after Nurse Anna had left.
I shot him a look that said I absolutely did.
32
Seth Mays
Be there in fifteen with Culvers.
Elliot Crane
I love you.
I couldn’t help smilingat that.
Elliot had sent me home to shower and get some sleep, since I kept nodding off in the chair they put in his room—once they’d moved him to a real room. It was honestly good that my apartment was only five minutes away—six if I hit all the stoplights. I barely managed to stay awake long enough to take my shoes off before I collapsed on my mattress.
I’d slept until nearly noon, waking up to a text from Elliot saying he’d be able to leave in the afternoon. I’d showered in a rush, then stopped at Culver’s to get him his favorite Culver’s meal—a bacon double cheeseburger, a large cheese curd, and a chocolate fudge concrete shake. I couldn’t eat anything that was even made there, so I’d stopped at a KFC first to get myself four chicken sandwiches and some fries so that I wouldn’t chew off my own arm.
I ate two of the sandwiches in the car before I even got to the hospital.
