Page 11 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind
I ignore this. “The doctor said you need to be woken up every few hours to make sure you’re able to awaken normally. So you’ll need to sleep on your couch, unless you want me in your bedroom—”
“Whoa, whoa,” she cuts in. She turns to look at me over her shoulder. “That is not happening.”
I smile serenely at her, enjoying the way her brows furrow. “Doctor’s orders, Miss Lucy.”
“Doctor’s orders myfoot,Man Bun. You’re not staying at my place tonight.”
I shrug much more casually than I feel. “That’s fine.” Then I pull out my phone. “I’ll call your brother, in that case—”
“Don’t—don’t! Ugh,” she says, stomping her foot. The time-worn stairs creak beneath us.
Eric would freak out. We both know it. He’s a laid-back guy, easygoing and chill with a cocky smile, but his twin is his soft spot.
“Or Gemma?” I go on. “It’s only”—I look at the time on my phone—“three-fifteen. She wouldn’t mind coming over.”
“Don’t. You can stay,” Heidi snaps, and I suppress my smile.
“If you insist.”
I stand behind her as we climb the few remaining stairs, my hands hovering over her back in case she stumbles or falls. She’s unsteady on her feet, but she makes it to the top without incident, even managing to throw me a few dirty looks as she goes.
She unlocks her door, and we step inside. She doesn’t flick on the lights, instead dropping her keys onto the tiny table by the front door and then shuffling further into the dark living room.
I follow her, watching carefully. There’s a slump to her shoulders I don’t like. I hurry over to the couch and grab the fleece blanket that’s bunched up there.
“Get some rest,” I say quietly, gesturing to the sofa.
“I can’t,” she says, and she sounds exhausted. “I need to get cleaned off.”
“Do it in the morning.”
“I’m not going to be able to sleep with blood in my hair, Soren,” she says.
That’s fair. She’s probably overwhelmed, and the head wound isn’t helping.
“All right,” I say, nodding. “Come on.”
I cross the small room and step into the itty-bitty bathroom, turning on the lights. And it’s funny, but I’ve always preferred Heidi’s tiny little place to my larger one. I don’t spend much time here, but I’ve been enough to know that it’s homey in a way my townhome never was.
Really, I should have gotten someplace smaller. My townhome was an impulsive investment, luxurious and unnecessary, but I was loaded with income from my first bestseller and I needed a new place to live. What was supposed to be a triumphant return to my hometown ended up being a slinking, tail-between-my-legs retreat when book number two bombed big time.
I reach up, opening the cabinet above the toilet. It’s the only cabinet in the little bathroom, so it takes me two seconds to find the spare towels. I grab a few of them and then stand back up, setting them on the closed toilet seat.
“Come on,” I say to Heidi again, gesturing. She’s standing right outside the door, watching me warily as she clutches the doorframe for support.
Taking her time.
That’s fine. Heidi is like that. She’ll come to you, not the other way around. So I take the time to wash my hands, even though I scrubbed them thoroughly at the hospital. Her soap smells like apples, and I massage it into my hands, trying not to remember the sight of her blood on my skin—one of the worst things I’ve ever seen.
Head wounds bleed alot.I knew that, but I didn’t really comprehend it until Heidi was the one unconscious in my arms, her skin too pale, her body limp.
I shudder, shutting the water off and drying my hands on my shirt. Then I turn to her.
“Do you want to call the police?” I say.
“No,” she says immediately, shuddering. “No. I’m fine; everything is fine.”
I nod slowly but don’t protest. “All right. Can you stand in the shower and wash your hair by yourself?” I say. Judging by her white-knuckled fingers still gripping the doorframe, I know the answer, but I’ll never convince her if she doesn’t arrive at the conclusion herself first. So I wait, watching her.
