“They took her in for questioning, but I haven’t received an official update.”
“Have the press announced the accident?”
“I haven’t been watching the news. I’ll find out, though.” I attempt to stand, but River’s grasp tightens around my good hand, keeping me in place.
“Has Gina called?” he prods, appearing more and more lucid as the conversation goes on. Pretty sure the adrenaline pulsing through his veins is competing with the morphine and is clearly the victor.
“I don’t know where your phone is,” I admit.
“Can I use yours?”
Retrieving it from my back pocket, I see a text from Dove, but I don’t bother to read it before handing my phone to him.
“What’s the passcode?”
“0-0-2-3-5-1,” I answer without hesitation.
He punches in the numbers, then dials Gina and puts the call on speaker.
It rings for a few seconds before a feminine voice filters through. “Hello?”
“Hey, Gina. It’s me, River.”
“River! I’ve been trying to call you for days! People are freaking out about the news. Are you okay? There are rumors that your mom showed up at the hospital but was escorted out like thirty minutes later. They won’t let me see you since I’m not on your approved visitor’s list or some shit. And since I haven’t met your dad or any of your friends, they aren’t exactly very trusting of me, either.”
“Wait. Where are you?” River asks.
“I’m at home now, but I tried to come see you earlier. Like I said, they wouldn’t let me in. Are you okay?”
His eyes shoot to mine. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Henderson called. He wants an update. What should I tell him?”
He sighs and glances over at me. “I don’t know. Can you stall him until I talk with a doctor?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Thanks, Gina. Call this number if you need to chat. It’s my girlfriend’s.”
Girlfriend.
My stomach swells with butterflies, but I shove them aside and focus on the conversation at hand.
“Okay,” Gina replies. “I’ll keep you updated, and I expect you to do the same.”
“Will do. Talk soon.” Then he disconnects the call and hands my phone back to me. “Have you spoken to the doctors?”
I nod.
“And how bad is the damage?” he asks again. “You mentioned the surgery and that they removed the burnt skin, but what’s the recovery time look like? I need you to be honest with me, Reese.”
“Ya know, you’re pretty lucid for a guy doped up on drugs.”
“It’s in the genes,” he quips sarcastically. “How do you think my mom was able to film all those movies while slipping oxy between scenes and snorting coke in the bathrooms?”
Jaw dropping, I ask, “Seriously?”
“My childhood was no picnic, Reese. Now, I need you to tell me the truth so we can figure out what to tell Henderson. Am I going to scar?”
My mouth feels like it’s been filled with cotton as my attention drops down to his bandaged side.
“Tell me.”
My gaze snaps back to his.“You got burned pretty bad, Riv.”
The bandages are mainly on his left forearm, bicep, and shoulder, then trail up the side of his neck before ending at his jawline. My lower lip quivers as I take it in for the hundredth time and mourn for the confident man he once was. Because his dad is right. This might break him.
“Am I going to scar?” he asks. His tone is matter-of-fact, but his eyes tell a different story. They’re filled with a fear that’s so palpable I’m afraid I might choke on it.
This is his greatest fear. This is the one thing he’s been terrified of losing. Not because he’s that vain, but because his mom made him believe it’s his only true worth. That if he isn’t absolute perfection on the outside, then who would want him for what’s on the inside? It’s as if the repercussions from the accident are finally catching up with him, and he’s truly starting to grasp the severity of his condition.
“Tell me,” he pleads.
“Yeah,” I rasp. “I think you’ll scar. They mentioned skin grafts in the near future, but I don’t know the details. You’ll be okay, though. I promise––”
“You’re lying, Reese. The entire left side of my body is covered in bandages and feels like an open sore that’s been dipped in acid. Do I have any skin left?”
“I haven’t seen you without the bandages,” I hedge.
“Answer the question, Reese. How long of a recovery am I looking at?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”
With a jerky nod, he turns toward the window and releases a pained sigh. The quiet sound is like a noose around my heart, squeezing it until I’m positive it’ll never beat rhythmically again.
“What are you thinking?” I whisper. When he first woke up, and I told him about the accident, he seemed okay. Like he’d be able to get through this. Like we’d both be able to. But now that he knows the severity of the situation, I feel like my world has been flipped upside down just like I’d feared.
“I’m going to lose the part,” he mutters.
“That’s not true. We don’t know––”
“It’s true, Reese. They wanted a sex god for the role, not a guy who got burned up in a fire and needs skin grafts. Now, I’m nothing.”
The words cut me like a knife. I cup his cheek and force him to look me in the eye.
“You’re not nothing, River. You mean the world to me. You did before the accident, and you do now. You’re a talented actor, and it’s not just because you look pretty, okay? If it were all about looks, then your mom would’ve gotten that part all those years ago and would’ve worked with the infamous B.T. Henderson. But she didn’t because Henderson doesn’t care about looks alone, even though I still think you’re the sexiest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I add with a smile. “He cares about raw talent, and you have it in spades. Gina sees it, Brett sees it, and so does Henderson. If this part slips through your fingers, there’ll be another one to replace it down the road. I need you to know that,” I plead. “But you need to get better before you can pursue any of those roles, and that means you need to stay strong and be the man you know you are. The man on the inside who fought tooth and nail to get away from his mom and stand on his own. Do you think you can do that?”
Closing his eyes, he leans into my touch and savors the feel of my skin against his before returning to reality with a fresh look of determination.
“I need to ask you something, Reese, and I need you to promise me that you’ll give me an honest answer. I won’t hold it against you. I just need the truth.”
“I promise,” I whisper.
“Will you stick with me through this? Even after these bandages are removed? Even if my skin never looks the way it used to? Will you still love me? You don’t have to stay because of guilt. I won’t hold it against you––”
“Stop,” I plead. “Please stop.”