Author: Cheryl McIntyre

“I didn’t,” I repeat. “Never mind. I’m really tired.”

And confused. But I don’t say that aloud. Instead, I go back and sit in my spot. I lean my head and close my eyes.

26

Park

I open my eyes when I hear movement. Mason pauses, a bag in his hand. What the fuck is he doing here? I’m in enough pain already.

“Hey. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He holds up the bag. “Clean clothes. Guy said you asked for them. Everybody crashed out, so…”

“So you thought you’d be a good guy and bring them on over?”

He shrugs. “I felt like I needed to do something.”

I chuckle darkly and then grab my chest as it turns into a hacking cough. Mason takes a step toward my bed and I hold up a hand. “I’m fine,” I croak. I narrow my eyes. “I don’t need shit from you.”

“I know. I just wanted to. I hate the way things played out and I know this doesn’t make up for it—”

“Not even close,” I say forcefully, cutting him off.

He nods and rubs the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’ll just leave them here. Lulu packed the bag, so I’m sure everything you need is in there.”

“Lucy packed my clothes?” My voice comes out shocked and hopeful at the same time and I cringe. Mason looks at me, nodding again.

“She’s really nice. She cares about you.”

“You don’t know her,” I hiss. She is nice. More than nice, but I don’t want him to have anything to do with her.

“I know she’s been really upset. Seemed like more than this.” He throws his hand out, gesturing to the room. “No relationship is perfect. Trust me. But I think…” He shakes his head. “You two make a nice couple.”

I smirk at him. “We’re not a couple. If you’re looking for another girl to steal, you’ll have to go somewhere else.” He raises his brows and I point at the door. “Seriously, man. Go somewhere else.”

He huffs out a dry laugh. “Hope you feel better, Park. If you need anything—”

“I won’t.”

He presses his lips together and nods one more time before turning and walking out the door. I close my eyes and try to sleep.

***

Guy hovers beside me as I work my shirt over my head. It’s slow going, but I’m determined to do it on my own. I’m not sure I can sink any lower, but having my friend dress me might do it.

I finally get it into place and drop heavily on the bed. Shoes are next, but that’s going to be harder than the shirt since it requires bending over. I’m not in the mood to get another dizzy spell. If I puke one more time, I’m not sure the doctor will let me go home.

And I really need to go home.

“You need some help?” Guy asks. He takes a step toward the bed and I shake my head. The quick movement causes the room to spin. I have to lie back and close my eyes as I try to breathe through it.

Concussions fucking suck.

Life lesson number 11: Don’t talk shit to a group of guys when you’re by yourself. Especially if you got a blowjob from one of their girlfriends. Not that I really remember all the details, but those parts are pretty clear.

“Just slip your feet in and I’ll tie them.”

I open my eyes and he’s standing over me, holding my boots. Pushing myself up, I swing my legs to the floor and wait for the room to slow down. I feel like an asshole—more so than usual.

Guy drops the boots to the floor and the sound has my brain throbbing. I shove my feet inside. “Have you talked to her?” I don’t say her name. I don’t need to. He knows. I’ve asked about her every time I’ve seen him in the past three days.

“I saw her this morning.”

“Did she say anything?”

He squats to tie my laces, keeping his eyes focused on the minor task. “She asked how you were doing and wanted to know when you’d be home.”

He stands up, but still doesn’t look at me.

“Did she want to know when I’d be home so she knew when to avoid my apartment?”

“She’s hurt,” Guy says in explanation.

“I know.” I close my eyes again because the light is bothering me. “I fucked up. Again.”

“You can fix it,” he says, but I can hear it in his voice. He doesn’t really believe that anymore than I do.

“She hates me. And she should.” I went to great lengths to ensure that.

Guy exhales loudly. “She stayed all night,” he reminds me. “She sat right in this chair, by your side, even when the nurses told her she needed to leave. She doesn’t hate you. She cares about you and that’s why you were able to hurt her. If she hated you she wouldn’t care that you slept with another girl directly after sleeping with her.”

I cringe. “I didn’t sleep with Erika.”

“Semantics. You made it perfectly clear to everybody there that night that you and she were well acquainted. And if I remember correctly, you had plans for her.”

Yeah. I did. But now, days later and sober, I realize how completely fucking stupid those plans were. I don’t want Erika. I never did. I just wanted her to erase the fucked up shit stuck in my head, and possibly help me forget Lucy.

Because I should forget.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I say gruffly. “She’s better off staying away. Hell, I’m better off if she stays away. That girl has me fucked up thinking shit can be different.” I sigh and rub my forehead. “Where the hell is the doctor? I want out of here.”

Guy settles into the chair and observes me. “I’m sure you’re not his only patient. He’ll get here when he can. While we wait, why don’t you explain to me what you mean about thinking shit can be different.”

I roll my head so he can get the full effect of my glare. “Why don’t we not do that?”

“You know I want you to be happy, right?” he asks.

I look away and laugh sarcastically. “We can’t all be gay.”

“Oh, you’re so punny.” He crosses his arms and leans back. “Anytime you want to actually start putting those extra IQ points to work, please feel free to do so.”

“Are you calling me stupid or smart?”

“I’m saying you’re being stupid.”

“Here’s a little secret, Guy: I don’t give a shit.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. It makes me want to smack him. “We both know that’s not true,” he states. “You give a shit. In fact, I think you give a lot of shits.”

“Well it’s still shit regardless. And stop thinking because you’re wrong.” He’s not and he’s fully aware of it. But I’m not about to tell him he’s right because then he’ll want to fix it. Fix me. I’m not fixable. Old dog—new tricks and all that.

Before he can reply, the doctor finally decides to grace us with his presence. He gives me some paperwork, has me sign more, and then tells me I’m free to go. I don’t hesitate. I’m out of the bed and moving toward the door as soon as the words leave his mouth. He tries to stop me with some policy about a wheel chair. Fuck that. I ignore him and keep going.

By the time I stop in front of the elevator, I have a cigarette in my mouth, and I’m flicking my lighter anxiously. I’m dizzy again, but I ignore it. I’m almost out of this place.

Guy steps up beside me and hands me a pair of sunglasses. I push them up on my head. “Thanks man.”

He nods as he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket. “Chase is out by the main doors.”

“Is he by himself?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he replies, and I stare at him, waiting for him to tell me the truth. “Hope’s been worried about you. She may have insisted on coming along.”

Son of a bitch.

I drop the sunglasses down over my eyes and stride into the elevator. I’ll just have to deal. It’s only a ten minute drive. I can do that. It’s not like she’ll be around much longer. She’s got a life to get back to.

Guy pushes the lobby button. My thumb flicks against the lighter. My other hand is tapping against my leg and my head is light.

“Did you want to go to the police station now, or wait until tomorrow?”

“What? Why would I go to the station?” I ask, confused.

“So you can press charges against the assholes that did this to you.”

The doors open and I move quickly, heading toward my freedom. As soon as I step outside I light my cigarette and take a long hit, my lungs protesting. I cough, causing pain to shoot through my head, and my chest to ache. Fucking pricks bruised my ribs.

“I’m not pressing charges,” I say.

“Why not?” Guy asks incredulously.

I cock my head to look at him. Because I deserved it. “Because I don’t remember what happened.” I spot Chase’s car and start walking again. He has a stupid-ass, no smoking rule in his car, so I suck as many hits as I can before I get over there.

Hope hops out of the passenger door, holding it open for me. I move around her and fall into the seat with a grunt. Everything fucking hurts.

“Hello sunshine,” Chase beams. “You’re bluer than a Smurf.”

I haven’t looked in a mirror, but I hear it’s bad. “Fuck off.”

“Oh, you’re just precious today.”

“I want to go home. That’s all I want.”

***

I slept the day away yesterday. All I remember is seeing my bed. Anything after that is fuzzy. My boots were sitting on the floor next to my bed when I woke up. I don’t remember taking them off.

My body must have needed the sleep because I feel pretty good today. My head still hurts, but it’s not as bad as my face. That’s new, so it must be improvement.

I make my way to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. My stomach clenches when I catch sight of my reflection. Fuck. It’s not just my face. It’s my neck and throat. I take my shirt off and shift from left to right. My torso is covered in dark bruises. I stare at them, trying to remember each hit. Each kick.

“Oh, my God.”

My eyes flick up to see Bree’s in the mirror. I smirk. “No, just me.”

“Jesus, Park,” she breathes. Her gaze roams over my back and I don’t even want to know what she sees. “I was going to ask how you were feeling, but…”

“Yeah. I kind of feel like I was jumped by three big-ass guys.”

She nods. “You look like it.”

I turn around to face her and she winces. “How’s Lucy?” I ask.

Bree stands up straighter, showing off her height. She crosses her arms over her chest and glares at me. “I’m guessing she feels like you look.”

Now I wince. I knew she was upset. Hurt. But the comparison hits hard.

“You need to stay away from her,” Bree hisses. “She trusted you.”

I swallow hard. This is unfixable. Why did I do it? Why did I fuck it up?

Bree’s still looking at me, waiting for me to give her something. Some explanation. Some reason. I don’t have any. I roll my eyes and grab the door. “That was her first mistake,” I say, swinging the door closed.

I wait several heartbeats to see if she’s going to say anything or kick the door in. When I’m met by silence, I turn the shower on and slip my jeans off. The first touch of water on my skin stings, but the longer I stand under the spray, the better it feels.

And then I can’t push the thoughts away any longer. It all settles in my chest, weighing it down until I feel like I can’t breathe.

I just want it to go away.

Lucy’s Rules:

1. Make the conscious decision to look at others with an open mind and an open heart.