“Oh,uh …” Here we go. “I just wanted to, uh …” Jesus, how the hell was I supposedto say this? Maybe I really was a protective psychopath. “I just wanted to tellyou to be careful. On the road. While I’m not there.”
“Becareful?” She laughed lightly. “Chad, what doyathink’sgonnahappen?”
Ispread my hand over my eyes. “Nothin’. I just, um … Ijust know you’regonnahave some downtime, and thatyou might meet some people. And I don’t … you know, uh …” My tongue had founditself in a knot. When had I become so incapable of speaking? This was Molly,for crying out loud. The girl who shared a stomach bug with me in the thirdgrade. The girl who wore my hand-me-downs until junior high.
Butshe wasn’t that girl anymore, was she? Somehow, that girl had turned into thewoman I wanted, and that woman made it impossible for any coherent thought topass through my lips.
“Okay,”she breathed, speaking slowly. “Are youaskin’ me tonot go out with anyone?”
Sweatbeaded along my forehead as my fingers pinched the space between my brows. “Um,well, uh …”
“Useyour words, Chad,” she teased, and I blew out a breath.
“Yeah.That’s what I’maskin’.” The words were out, and myheart raced.Beep, beep, beep. “But only‘causeI’m not there to make sure that they’re, you know, okay and—”
“Iwon’t,” she replied quietly. “I mean, I really wasn’tplannin’on it anyway. And even if I tried, I’m honestly not sure if any of your friendswould even let it happen—you’ve trained them well. But since you asked soeloquently, I won’t even look at another guy.”
Myeyes opened wide and I dropped my hand. “Oh, I wasn’t justtalkin’about guys—”
“Sure,you weren’t.”
“Imeantgoin’ on runs, too.”Nice save, jackass.
Mollyactually laughed. “Chad, I’ve seen enough of thosetrue crime shows. I’m too afraid to gorunnin’alone.”
Ibreathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. Don’t want youendin’up in a ditch, you know.”
“Thatmakes two of us.”
Myparents were back, along with a nurse, and the room was suddenly too full to behaving any semblance of a conversation. So, I told Molly I’d talk to her later,maybe after my parents went for another cup of coffee, and we hung up.
Mamatook her seat in the chair beside me—Molly’s chair. Dad perched himself on thewindow ledge. The nurse checked the IV, then my vitals, and announced that the doctorwould be in first thing in the morning. Mama thanked her before I got a chance,and she was gone.
“Betyou can’t wait to getouttahere, huh,” Dad said,nodding toward me.
“Yeah,”I grunted. “I’m so sick of this room.”
Ihad walked the halls over the past couple of days. I needed to, just to keepthe circulation going in my legs, but it wasn’t the same. I wanted some freshair. I wanted a different view. I wanted to wear clothes, for crying out loud.
“Soon,baby,” Mama soothed cheerfully, patting my hand. “We’ll get you home and thingscan get back to normal before you know it.”
Heroptimistic demeanor was beginning to drive me insane, but I knew what it was.It was her denial that her only kid was in the hospital. That his entire bodywas battling a disease none of us had known about. Maybe she felt to blame, fornot realizing it sooner. For not getting me to a doctor when I was younger andoften sick to my stomach. We’d all assumed I just had a weak gut, was sensitiveto a lot of foods, or had been exposed to too many germs in school …
Whatthe hell did any of us know?
Iwanted to say that to her. To tell her to knock it off, and that what was donewas done. But I didn’twannabring it up and poursalt into the proverbial wounds.
Betterjust to get better, get the hell out, and deal with the rest later.
***
Twodays later, Dr. Wahlberg gave me the okay to leave. He provided me with a listof gastroenterologists in the Red Ridge area, my hospital record, and strictinstructions to call someone as soon as I got home. They’d need to monitor meclosely before I could head back out on the road.
“Thanksfor everything, Doc,” I said, extending a hand.
“You’rea lot taller when you’re out of that bed,” he joked, accepting my palm in hisand looking up into my eyes. “Take care of yourself, Chad.”
Thatwas the idea.
