His fingers move to my shoulder and squeeze gently before facing the doctor. “How is he doing?”
“Quite well. Everything went without a problem,” Dr. Ramirez says with a satisfied smile, then focuses on me again. “I’ve put you on blood thinners to prevent your blood from clotting again. If you experience shortness of breath or pain in your chest, inform the nurse immediately. I want you to start physical therapy tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Isn’t it a little soon?” Luke asks, brows creased in worry.
“We typically recommend at least a day after surgery, if possible. Sol’s seizures complicated things, but looking at his chart, I don’t see any reason we can’t get him back on track.”
“I’m ready,” I say quickly.
“Alright, I’ll have Nurse Hanson set it up. Glad to have you back with us, Solomon. Remember to take it easy.”
“Can I speak with you, Dr. Ramirez?” Luke’s gaze darts to mine, then back to the doctor. “Alone?”
He nods, and they both walk out of the room, leaving Nurse Hanson to finish up with the check and clean up.
She grabs the cup of water and tips it against my lips. “Just a small sip. We need to get your system working again.” I do as she says, then rest back on the pillows. “You better hold on to that girl. Grace, I mean. The way she was looking at you . . . wow.”
After everything that has happened, I’m not sure where she and I stand. I’m dying to know how she looked at me. Chalk it up to me being desperate. Or the mellowness from the morphine in my veins. “What look? How does she look at me?”
She grins. “Like she wants to crawl under your skin and live there, honey. That’s a whole lotta love, if you ask me.” She winks at me with a playful grin. “I’m gonna head out now. Use the call button if you need anything, ’kay?”
She peels off the latex gloves and tosses them in the bin near the door as she walks out.
Luke returns minutes later. He rubs his hands down his face, then drops them to his sides. “Are you trying to kill me, Solomon?”
“Huh?”
“I leave the hospital for like two seconds, and the next thing I know, I get a phone call that you’ve been rushed back to the ICU. I mean, I know you love me and you wanted me to stick around, but seriously, dramatic much?” His lips twitch as if he’s fighting a smile.
I laugh, appreciating his humor. Shifting my body to get comfortable, I jostle my shoulder and wince. “Ow. Jeez.”
Luke rushes to my side, eyes wide with panic. “What is it? Should I call the nurse?” His shaking hands brush my shoulder as if I’m fragile.
“No need,” I mutter. “I’ll be fine. They already gave me morphine for the pain. Hey, what was that about?” I motion to the door with my chin. “You and Dr. Ramirez?” I clarify.
“Oh, I had a few questions about your care. Nothing for you to worry about.”
He pushes back my hair, then sits down in the chair next to my bed. “Welcome back. And please stick around, okay? I need you to be alright.”
“I promise.” I smile, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
He’s about to say something when the door swings open and Nurse Hanson walks back in.
“Sorry for interrupting. I just need to check the drain bulb.” I’m wondering what the heck a drain bulb is when she rounds the bed. She lifts the sheets to reveal a transparent oval-ish piece of equipment with a thin rubber tube draining red fluid from the spot covered with gauze on my leg near the incision area. After she’s done, she straightens the sheet and glances at me, clearly reading my baffled expression. “It helps avoid fluid buildup after surgery.”
I nod in understanding.
She turns to face Luke with a smile. “He’s lucky to have you and Grace. Not many patients in the ICU are so lucky.”
I’m grinning like an idiot at the mention of Grace. Luke’s eyebrows snap together, and he asks, “Grace? Was she here?”
The nurse’s smile is big and happy. “Yeah.” Luke’s lips flatten. I know that look well, and it’s kind of messing with my buzz. He’s not happy. Nurse Hanson seems to notice it too. “Oh, is she not allowed to be here? We thought since you brought her in with you to see Solomon—”
“It’s fine,” Luke says, his eyes flicking to meet mine. His lips quirk up as he tries to school his features. Instead, he looks like he’s in pain.
“Oh, good. I’m glad,” she says, heading for the door. “She seems like a nice girl.”
Luke scrubs his palm down his face and groans under his breath.
“What’s going on, Luke?”
He starts to say something, then hesitates. Rubbing his palm over his jaw, he huffs out a breath.
All of a sudden, he stands, then leans down and kisses my forehead. “Get some rest, son.”
I struggle to sit up, but my body hasn’t adjusted to being fully awake yet. I slump back on the pillows. “What did you do? I swear to God—”
“Watch it, Solomon. Taking God’s name in vain—”
“I’m not taking His name in vain,” I tell him. “I mean it. If you did or said anything to her . . .” I let the words trail off. He can fill in the rest. And as much as I want to argue until I’m blue in the face, I’m exhausted.
His fingers tug the white collar around his neck, and he sighs. His voice is gentle, his bloodshot eyes soft when he says, “Rest. I’ll be back later.” He ruffles my hair, then spins and walks to the door, shoulders hiked to his ears.
As soon as the door shuts behind him, I close my eyes and force my body to relax. I can’t text or call anyone at the moment. I wish I could call Grace and hear her voice. The nurses gave Luke the clothes I was wearing at MJ’s party, and my phone was inside the pocket of my pants. Did it even survive the fall?
I don’t know what went down while I was in a coma, but from Luke’s reaction, it’s nothing good. Grace is my endgame. I hope nothing has changed after what happened.
Shit.
I hope I haven’t destroyed whatever chance I had to be with her.
It’s Friday, almost a week since the accident. Yesterday when I went to visit Sol, he still looked so pale. The nurse assured me he was doing much better than they had anticipated, and if all goes well, they’d bring him out of the coma. Earlier this morning before I left for the diner, MJ sent a text to let me know Sol was awake. According to Father Foster, he’s doing fairly well.
Now it’s almost six in the evening. Mom and Chris had plans today to visit his mother, so I came in to help out at the diner. Sol’s uncle is most likely preparing to celebrate Mass at St. Peter’s, which means he won’t be at the hospital. I plan to stop by and check on Sol before heading home.
After saving the spreadsheet I’ve been working on for the past hour, I close my laptop and grab my cell phone. I tap on a message from Gage asking for any updates. I’m sure Ivan has already updated him. Nevertheless, I type a quick message to let him know I’m fine, Sol’s no longer in a coma, and Levi’s still not talking to me.
I rub my temples to ease the throbbing pain. Even after taking pain medication, the stupid headache still lingers like a dark cloud.