My eyes open up, and I see a beam of sun touching my blanket.
Shit, I fell asleep? How long was it for this time?
I look up and see that Kaden is gone. Dylan’s there instead.
He smiles. He doesn’t look any older, did—?
“One night,” he says, as if reading my mind. “You slept a good eight hours, and you woke up like normal.”
“Thank God,” I say, putting a hand over my chest. My heart is racing.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You’re going to get to go for a walk in two hours.”
I remember Kaden’s robot assistant saying that. I feel like I could just jump off the bed and walk now on my own, so why even wait?
Well, it might be fun to take my first steps with Kaden. Maybe he can hold me up in case I fall. I suppose that’s worth waiting for two hours.
I feel so stupid having a crush on my doctor, but then again...the kiss.
Was there really even a kiss, or did I dream it? I remember, before I got sick, I used to only ever remember the dreams I had right before waking up. I probably would dream the whole night, but I only ever remembered the minute or two of dreams I had just as I awoke. And then, I’d only remember them if I struggled and fought to. If I just got ready for school and didn’t think of them, they were gone within an hour. As if they never happened.
So maybe I really did dream those whole seven years, and maybe in the last few moments before I woke up, I dreamt that Kaden Prince kissed me awake. Like right out of a fairytale.
Yeah, it must have been a dream. And I have some stupid schoolgirl crush—even though I’m twenty-five—on my hot doctor. He’s just doing his job, and I’m falling for the first guy to look at me since I woke up. He’s assigned to look after me. This is his job.
Though he did risk his career to save me, but I do get the impression that he’d take crazy risks for any of his patients. He just seems like that kind of man.
“Are you going to stay here?” I ask Dylan. “Didn’t you work a night shift?”
He nods, and suddenly the aroma of coffee hits my nose. I perk up and look at the cup in his hand.
“Dylan,” I say. “Can I have some?”
“You’re not supposed to,” he says. “The nurse specifically mentioned it when she saw me carrying it in. Water and soup only for—”
“Dylan,” I snap, using my ‘big sister’ voice. “Give me a sip. Please, the smell is driving me crazy.”
“One sip,” he says.
He puts the coffee onto my tray, right next to the glass of water I haven’t touched.
I put my nose over the cup and sniff. The smell is euphoric, and then I take a sip.
It burns my tongue a bit, but I slurp it fast to cool it down. It tastes amazing, and I greedily take another sip before Dylan can take it away from me.
“Come on, Rose,” he says, grabbing for it.
“Fine,” I say, sliding it back. I don’t want to use the gross bedpan again anyway. I should be able to walk to the bathroom from now on.
Dylan smiles.
“You didn’t go to school because of me,” I blurt out. It’s weighing on me, and I just want to say it—to get it out there.
“I…” he mumbles. “It wasn’t just you, Rose. I decided to take a year off so I could stay with you...in case you woke up.”
“That sounds like it was because of me, Dylan.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Then Mom and Dad died right before I was going to start. That really messed me up, and that’s the main reason I didn’t go. Just making lattes and frapuccinos was really all I could handle after that. It’s not your fault, alright?”
“You’re only twenty-three,” I say. “It’s not too late.”
He shrugs. “I’d have to apply all over again.”
“Do it then,” I say.
“What about you?” he asks.
“What about me! Just go—”
“No,” he says. “I mean, what do you think you’re going to do?”
I open my mouth to say something, but I realize I’ve got nothing. I haven’t even considered it yet. I’m twenty-five years old and I haven’t even finished high school. I don’t even know who the president is. It will probably take me several months just to get used to however the world has changed. And then what?
“Sorry,” Dylan says. “That was a pretty heavy question, wasn’t it?”
“No,” I say. “It’s good you asked. I need to start thinking about my new life.”
5
Kaden
I roll the wheelchair into Rose’s room.
“You ready?” I ask.
“I thought I was walking,” she says, eyeing the chair.
“Well, we need to wheel you to the rehab room first,” I say.
She sighs.
“I’ll help you into it. Come on, don’t feel bad about the wheelchair. Hospitals are obsessed with these things, everyone has to be in one, more or less. It wouldn’t surprise me if ten years from now, even the doctors are required to rush around the hospital in them.”
She laughs, and I grab the hand control for her bed, raising it up so she’s sitting up straight.
Rose clutches the blankets to her chest and watches me uneasily.
“You’ve gotta take the blankets off,” Dylan says. “Unless you want to walk around wearing a blanket robe.”
“I know,” she snaps and glares at him, and then she turns to look up at me, her cheeks burning red.
“Well, uh,” I mumble. “You can start wearing real clothes soon.”
She must feel weird always having to wear the hospital gown. It’s not like the gown is particularly revealing, though some people don’t feel comfortable in them. Sometimes I think patients should have the option of wearing normal clothes, if they’re able. For a lot of patients, I think they’d feel more at-home and less awkward if they could wear what they wanted. They’d feel less sick, less exposed, more normal.
But no, hospital policy rules everything. Everyone must be in a wheelchair, everyone has to wear a goofy gown. And if you can’t afford to pay, you may as well be left for dead. It’s all a bunch of fucking shit.
“There’s usually a whole procedure that we have to follow for transferring a patient from the bed to the chair,” I say. “...but I’m guessing we’ll only have to do this once. I can just lift you up if you want me to.”
Most doctors aren’t strong enough, and most patients aren’t as light as Rose. I’d rather just plop her down into the chair so she can walk as soon as possible.
“Okay,” she says.
I reach down behind her knees with one arm, and then grip hold of her back to steady her with my other. I lift her up and off the bed, and I can’t help but notice how warm and soft her body feels. I’m just lifting her to move her into the chair, but I suddenly get an urge to just hold her against me, to feel her warmth pressed against my body.
I shake the feeling, and proceed to lower her down into the chair. I reluctantly let go.