She studies my face in the dim parking lot light. "And how are you?"
I think about it for a moment, about everything that's happened today, about the fear and the love and the realization that sometimes the scariest thing you can do is also the most necessary.
"Happy," I tell her. "For the first time in a long time, I'm really happy."
She smiles and pulls me into another hug. "Good," she says. "It's about time."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GUNNER
I'm annoyed the next morning when I'm getting poked and prodded. The only thing I want is to see Amy and Rosa, and I want to go home. In that order.
"Gunner, how are you?" the doctor from yesterday asks.
"I'm great, ready to go home."
"I'm sure you are," he laughs. "But barring anything when I give you this examination, I'll send you home this afternoon. Someone will need to come and pick you up though."
"We're already here."
That voice comes from Amy, and Rosa is standing beside her, holding a piece of paper. "I made you a get-well card," Rosa says.
"Thank you so much; bring it here and let me see it."
Rosa bounces over to my bedside, her small face beaming with pride as she hands me the construction paper creation. It's covered in crayon drawings of fire trucks and what I assume are supposed to be flames, though they look more like orange and red squiggles. In the center, she's written "GET WELL GUNNER" in uneven letters that make my chest tight with emotion.
"This is the most beautiful get-well card I've ever seen," I tell her, and I mean every word. "I'm going to keep this forever."
Amy approaches slowly, her eyes searching my face like she's looking for signs I'm not as okay as I claim to be. The worry lines around her eyes tell me she probably didn't sleep much last night.
"How are you really feeling?" she asks, her voice soft.
"Better now that you're both here." I reach for her hand, threading our fingers together. "I was going crazy in here without you."
The doctor clears his throat, reminding us he's still in the room. "Well, let's get this examination done so we can get you discharged."
The next hour passes in a blur of tests and paperwork. True to his word, the doctor signs my discharge papers with instructions for rest and follow-up appointments. Amy handles everything like the mother she is.
"Ready to get out of here?" Amy asks, wheeling a hospital wheelchair to my bedside.
"More than ready."
The ride to my house is quiet, Rosa chattering about everything and nothing from the backseat while Amy focuses on driving. I catch her glancing at me every few minutes, like she's afraid I might disappear.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her quietly.
She gives me a small smile. "Good. Because we're not letting you."
When we pull into my driveway, I'm surprised to see another car already there. Amy parks and helps me out, Rosa immediately attaching herself to my good side like a tiny bodyguard.
"Whose car is that?" Amy asks.
Before I can answer, my front door opens and my mother steps out, her silver hair perfectly styled. She's carryingwhat looks like enough casserole dishes to feed half the fire department.
"There's my boy," she says, her voice thick with emotion as she hurries down the front steps. "I came as soon as I heard."
"Mom, you didn't have to?—"
