“No.” Empty, yes.
“Maybe the scent of pizza will wake up your appetite.” He sits on the edge of the bed, his weight drawing the sheet tighter across my body. His serious brown eyes fix on me. “This is my fault, Meg.”
“Don’t.” I shake my head. “It was a dumb mistake.”
“It was one you wouldn’t have made if I hadn’t”—with a grimace, he rakes through his thick dark hair—“been an insensitive prick.”
“I think that rescue made up for it.”
With a tense sigh, he drops his hand to the side of the bed. “Not even close.”
Why does he blame himself? I don’t. “Think we’ll get out of the rest of community service?”
To my relief, he flashes me a half-smile. “It’s worth asking.”
His hand is resting on the bed an inch away from mine. The thought of him reaching out to touch me makes me jolt, and I pull my hand away. “You met my dad?”
“We’ve met before, actually. He coached my brother in high school.”
This shouldn’t surprise me given the size of this tight-knit town. “Which one?”
“Everett.”
“The cop.”
Linden nods. “He only played for two years though.” He shifts on the bed, his eyes turning curious. “Was that your mom?”
A tiny spike of pain pricks my heart as I allow myself to yearn for my mom for one second. She would have stormed in and never left my side. She would have made friends with all the nurses. Asked all the questions. Made me laugh, even when I didn’t think I could.
“Stepmom,” I say.
“They didn’t stay.” His voice has turned gentle.
I shrug. “It’s okay.”
He watches me for a tense moment, then rocks to standing and scoops up my big cup of water. “Let me fill this.”
I lay back in the bed as he slips into the bathroom.
The door opens again and Russ walks in.
“Babe, I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says, his blue eyes wide.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap.
He puts his hands on his hips and scoffs. “I care about you, can’t you see that?” When his gaze sweeps over my ugly leg, he rears back, grimacing. “Holy shit. You know you can’t work with it looking like that. People would freak.”
I open my mouth but the words skitter up my throat.
“Look, I’ve got it all worked out,” he continues, unaffected by my reaction. “I’m moving in so I can take care of you. Until you’re back to um, normal.”
“Who the fuck let you in here?” Linden says in a firm tone, his heavy boots tapping hard against the linoleum as he returns from the bathroom.
Russel whirls around. “And who made you the gatekeeper? I have a right to see her.”
Linden reaches across my lap to set down my cup of water, forcing Russel to take a step back.
“Out.” Linden’s tone is firm and rough, like he’s gritting his teeth.
