My need to reaffirm these facts with the physical, to feel the brush of her soft skin on mine, her pulse under my fingertips has me taking the open chair by the bed and carefully slipping my hand under hers. My thumb traces the edges of the tape securing her IV while Grayson pulls up his own chair across from me and takes Kay’s other hand in his.
Neither of us speak, the only sounds in the room the constant flow of oxygen and the even beeps of Kay’s heart rate.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
My breathing syncs with each slow inhalation and exhalation of Kay’s.
A wave of exhaustion rolls over me as the adrenaline from the night starts to wane and my head falls to the bed. Inside my pocket, I can feel my phone vibrate. Normally I would ignore it, but given the events of the evening, my gut tells me I should check it.
As much as we all wish otherwise, I’m sure the story of what happened tonight has gotten out, though whether or not the facts being circulated are correct is another issue altogether. Gossips love drama. Anything to up their likes and shares on social media.
This?
School’s star tight end’s girlfriend gets taken away in an ambulance after a Hawks victory party—it’s like catnip to them.
Plus there’s also the chance—albeit a slim one since it’s the middle of the night—my family has found out what happened and could be reaching out.
I press my thumb to the button to unlock my phone and pull up UofJ411’s Instagram. Sure enough, there are pictures documenting our departure from the Alpha house.
Grayson lets out a snort, and when I look up, his own thumb is swiping along the screen of his phone. I know he must be seeing the same thing as me.
I scroll and scroll, the red low battery icon ignored, not stopping to double-tap a like or comment.
Then…
I see the most recent post.
My hyperawareness of all things Kay is the only reason I’m able to detect the faint twitch against my palm as I reel with thoughts of how somebody was able to get a picture of her in here.
The nurse standing by swoops in to check all of Kay’s vitals, and as much as it pains me to do so, I motion to Grayson that I’m stepping out. It won’t be long before Kay is moved into a regular room, and it looks like we have a whole new set of issues to deal with.
E is not going to react well to this at all. He’s been more—if that’s even possible—adamant about keeping Kay out of the public eye than Kay is about our trending hashtags.
The way E’s pulling at his hair while he talks to Jordan when I make it back to the waiting room tells me he already knows about the pictures. It’s probably also why nurse Vicki has made a reappearance.
“Bruh…where’s your shirt?” JT’s question has me noticing him for the first time as I join their circle of people. Guess he arrived while I was with Kay.
“Romeo here is trying to get the nurses to like him by showing off a little skin.” E hooks a thumb in my direction only to get a backhand to the chest from Bette.
“Don’t be an asshole, Eric,” Bette admonishes.
“Oh-ho-ho,” JT chortles. “Watch out, old man—it never ends well for you when she calls you Eric.”
There’s more eye rolling—Kay’s proclivity is becoming a damn epidemic in our group—but respect and gratitude shine in JT’s eyes, telling me someone told him the real reason I’m shirtless and he’s giving me shit because that’s what guys do when we can’t handle serious emotions.
“Thanks, man,” I tell him when he hands me a shirt from his duffle bag that sits on one of the chairs. I pull the white cotton over my head; it’s a bit snug, but it fits.
Joke time over, E falls back into the conversation he was having with nurse Vicki and Jordan. “So do you think it’s possible to get a room in…fuck…I don’t know…” E runs another hand through his hair, the already disheveled strands becoming wilder. “A more secure wing or something?”
“Eric…” Nurse Vicki gives his shoulder a squeeze.
“I know.” E lets out a heavy sigh, his head falling forward, his chin tucking into his chest. “I worry with the press coverage from after the game and what I’m sure is getting spun from all this”—he circles a finger in the air, indicating the hospital and the reasons that brought us here—“these new pictures will bring out all the vultures.”
Is that a real possibility? Could this grow to something more than campus fodder?
Somewhere in the distance, the elevator dings, and then B bursts into the room, his sneakers making a nails-on-a-chalkboard-type squeal as he pulls up short.
“B?” E’s eyes bug out and his brows hit his hairline at the sight of Ben Turner, the Crabs’ quarterback. “What are you doing here?”
“What the fuck?” B squares off against his best friend, his hands braced on his hips. “You think I wouldn’t want to come too?”
“The game.” E doesn’t say it, but his tone gives off the implied duh.
“You think that’s what’s important here?” B tosses his arms up.
“There’s no way you got approval to miss the game too.”
“Fuck that.” B smacks E’s chest, the sound reverberating through the room, every set of eyes bouncing between the two of them, watching in rapt attention. “I’ll take the fine. Our girl needs us more. Family sticks together.”
All the defiance drains out of E at the reminder of their mismatched family unit.
“Like, I’m seriously pissed at you, bro. You text me asking me to take care of Herkie because Kay’s in the hospital and you have to leave for Jersey. What. The. Actual. Fuck?”
“Where is my dog?” E asks defensively.
“Don’t take that tone with me.” B sticks a finger in E’s face, sounding scarily like Bette. “I picked him up and dropped him off at your house here before coming here.”
“You”—E pokes B, his finger bending back with the force—“let my”—he hooks his thumb back at himself—“dog in your”—his hand reverses direction again—“Ferrari?” E’s jaw drops, and Bette slips a finger under it to pick it up off the floor.
“Hell no.” B tosses his head back with a laugh. “When I grabbed him, I availed myself to your Escalade too.” He reaches into his pocket, twirling the keyring around his finger. “Figured you need something to drive, and it has enough room to fit everyone, both the two- and four-legged variety.”
“Thanks B.” Bette frees herself from under E’s arm to finally give him a proper hug hello, shooting her scowling-again husband a Be nice glare.
“Oh-kay.” JT claps his hands, shouldering his way in, clearly used to the way these two interact. “Now that that’s out of the way, can we bring the focus back to Kay?”
“Whoa. Dude.” E falls back a couple of steps. “Don’t call her Kay. Freaks me out when you do.”
JT chuckles. “She says the same thing.”
“True story,” Tessa agrees from somewhere behind me.
“Man…” E pulls B into a headlock, noogie-ing him. “Kay is going to give you so much shit for being here.”
“Me?” B threads an arm between them and delivers a purple nurple to set himself free. “Wait until she realizes what you being here is going to do to her fantasy score for the week.”