“I’m not—”
“Maybe I’ll get him to ask you out. Who knows what might happen?”
I’d coughed and spluttered, told her going out with a neighbor was a terrible idea. Of course the real reason was because I’d identified Lewis as at least a million levels out of my league from the first time I’d set eyes on him. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t looking for any kind of a relationship. I’d been perfectly happy on my own for years.
I’d avoided Lewis from then on, which wasn’t too difficult. I saw him leave for work early, generally before six when I stood at my window with my first cup of coffee, and didn’t hear him moving about upstairs again until well after ten at night. He kept busy, which made it easy for me to keep out of his way. Except now, as he stood over my hospital bed with a face full of concern, avoiding him had become impossible.
Nurse Miranda didn’t appear to be in much of a hurry to leave, either. She took my vitals and checked the machines for the third time in five minutes. Her diligence, I presumed, was perhaps a little less about the state of my health and more about getting a longer look at Lewis. Who could blame her? He was one of those people who could’ve been sculpted from a block of granite before stepping off the pedestal, destined to walk among us lesser mortals.
“I’ll call Dr. Chang.” Nurse Miranda directed the words at me while beaming at Lewis. “She’ll be with you shortly. I’ll leave you two to catch up in the meantime.”
I wanted to ask her to stay, tell her that, other than watching Lewis come and go on his fluorescent-green mountain bike from my living room window, I didn’t know anything about him. As he stood in front of me, I couldn’t find the courage to ask.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered after she’d left, his voice urgent. “I’m really, really sorry.”
Of all the things I’d expected to hear, this wasn’t one of them. “Why?”
“For not getting to you sooner.” He shook his head, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he rocked on his heels like a boulder. “I’ve been cursing myself since last night. If I hadn’t left my bike key at the gym, or if I’d left thirty seconds earlier, I’d have been able to stop the guy. Hell, if I’d left a minute earlier, he might not have touched you at all.”
“It’s not your fault. Don’t forget, if you’d left a minute later, the back of my skull might be stuck to the sidewalk.”
Lewis smiled, his shoulders dropping. “Are you always this pragmatic?”
“I’m glad you arrived when you did,” I whispered, forcing the lump in my throat back down. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Of course. Anyone would have done the same.” He sighed, shook his head. “I wish I’d caught the guy, though. I wanted to go after him, but I couldn’t leave you, you know? It’s probably better for him. I’d have beaten him to a pulp.” He exhaled deeply, looking at me with his big green eyes and I dropped my gaze. “The police asked me for his description, but I didn’t see him properly. Do you remember anything?”
“Not much. He wore a black hoodie... I think he had white skin, stubble and definitely needed a toothbrush. Not exactly a lot for them to go on, is it?”
“But you’ll file a report? Which reminds me—” he dug around in his pocket and pulled out a business card “—these are the detective’s contact details, although he said he’d be in touch. Hopefully with what you tell them they’ll be able to catch the guy.”
“I doubt it. I mean, I’m another statistic, right?” My laugh sounded false, and the pressure in the back of my head made me stop. Without warning, a sob escaped my lips, followed by a steady trickle of tears, which refused to slow even as I squeezed my eyes shut to keep them in.
“Hey,” I heard Lewis say as he placed his hand over mine again, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re safe now, Eleanor, I promise.” He waited until I opened my eyes again, and then reached for a chair, pulled it over and sat down. “Have you spoken to your folks?”
“My parents? No, I—”
“They didn’t call? The super gave me your emergency contacts. Your dad didn’t answer but I left a message on his voice mail, and on your mom’s, too. I told them where you were. I can check with the nurse if—”
“No, you don’t need to,” I whispered.
“I hope I didn’t get the wrong number. Your mom’s name is Sylvia, right?”
“Yes,” I mumbled. I’d forgotten I’d added her as another contact because there wasn’t anyone else, and I never thought she’d be called. Luckily I’d only been bumped on the head—I’d have to be missing all four limbs before she’d make an appearance. I sat up. “I need to call my dad. I don’t have my phone or my wallet, and he’s—”
“Here, use mine.” He dug around the back pocket of his jeans, and when he held his cell out to me, it could’ve been a toy nestled in the palm of a giant’s hand. “You didn’t have a bag with you, either. Was it stolen? Can you remember?” When I shook my head, he said, “We should cancel your credit cards and have your locks changed, too, if your keys—”
“No, there’s no need,” I said as a pleasant warmth spread throughout my chest. He’d said we, as if we were in this together somehow. “I forgot my bag at the hospice.”
“Hospice?” Lewis’s brow furrowed. “Are you all right?”
I swallowed hard and exhaled quietly, trying to ensure that when I spoke, my words would be steady enough for Lewis to understand. “It’s my dad. He has pancreatic cancer—”
“God, I’m so sorry.”
“—and, uh, he wasn’t doing well when I left last night. I need to find out what’s going on. I have to call. To make sure he’s okay.”
“Which hospice?”
“Monroe. It’s in Pleasantdale.”
He looked it up and passed the phone to me. “Take your time,” he said, standing up. He gave me a quick glance and an encouraging nod as he moved to the door. “I’ll be right outside.”
I clutched the phone, preparing myself for what I’d say to Dad. First, I’d tell him I loved him, I didn’t care about him not being my biological father, it didn’t matter one bit. Then I’d apologize, say I was so, so sorry I’d left. I’d been selfish, stupid. He’d say, Freckles, it’s fine, nothing to forgive. The thought made my chest expand as I hit Dial.
“Good morning, Monroe Hospice, how may I direct your call?” Brenda the receptionist’s voice was a true balm for the soul. She’d given me a hug the first day I’d visited Dad. Held me after I’d walked out of the elevator where I’d let go of the emotions I’d kept inside since I’d arrived an hour earlier. Not once did she complain or try to pull away as I clung to her, not even when a damp patch of my tears soaked into her soft yellow cashmere sweater.