I sit on the chair next to the bed, and he lets out a contented sigh. “I’m driving back to school tomorrow.”
His eyes widen. “I thought you were leaving on Sunday.”
“I need to get ready for classes on Monday.”
He nods, lips pursed. “Okay.” He’s quiet for several seconds, then he says, “I thought about what you said about wanting to find who you are.”
“You did?”
He nods again. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“You do?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“I just thought . . . forget it.”
His gaze fixes on mine, and we just stare at each other. Eventually, he says, “After dropping out of seminary, my only focus was getting you back. Nothing else. Just you. But then, my uncle and I had a chat the other day. And I realized that I didn’t know who I was without you. I also realized what you said made sense. I want to do something with my life. I want to find a purpose. I’ll be applying to a few colleges.”
“Oh my gosh! That’s really amazing. Do you have any schools in mind?”
He shakes his head. “Luke promised to get some pamphlets and bring them over.” He brings those blue eyes to mine. “You look beautiful, Grace. How’s the wound?”
“Much better. It’s healing quite well.” I glance at him, taking in the sparkle in his eyes. He looks happy. Probably happier than I’ve seen him in a while.
He eyes me for a few seconds. “What are you thinking?”
“I haven’t seen you this happy in so long. I love seeing this side of you.”
He grins and winks. “Yeah? I am happy. I’ve decided I’m not going to let anything stand in my way. Not walking or going to school or . . .” He trails off, his gaze roaming my face. Suddenly, the room feels a little too warm.
“Are you happy, Gracie?”
“I’m getting there.”
“I could make you happy.” He flashes me that shy-cute smile, and my heart flips around inside my chest. “I could make you the happiest woman on earth.”
Sigh. I swear this boy . . .
Pulling one leg up and resting my foot on the chair, I prop my chin on top of my knee. “We need to focus on being happy on our own first. Be happy with the version of ourselves we are trying to be. I think it’s the only way we can be happy with other people. Right now, I’m choosing to be kinder to myself and love myself a little more.”
My phone vibrates from my purse, interrupting us. “I need to answer that. It’s probably my mother,” I say while retrieving my cell. “Hey, Mom,” I say, my eyes on Sol and the way he’s watching me.
“Grace. Could you grab some stuff on your way home?” After agreeing, she says she’ll text me a list of what she needs to make dinner, then we hang up. I face Sol again, smiling. “Chris and Mom are getting married. Can you believe it?”
“That’s awesome! When did that happen?”
“Monday. He actually asked me for her hand in marriage first. He asked me.” I laugh softly. “Anyway, they still have to set a date, but hopefully, it’ll be in the spring. A springtime wedding. It’s going to be epic.”
“Spring’s a good season.” He clears his throat. “I miss this. You talking to me. We’re still friends, right? Despite everything that has happened. We’re still friends.”
“Yeah.”
“We used to tell each other almost everything. I miss that. I want it back.”
“I-I . . .” I sputter, not even sure what I should say.
“It’s okay, Gracie. I know we have to build our friendship back up. And I want to try. I enjoy hearing what’s going on in your life, whether good or bad. I want to share it all with you, too.” He shrugs.
Flutters and melting. That’s what I’m feeling. Flutters everywhere. In my chest, my stomach, even the small hairs on the back of my neck. He’s so sweet. “You do?”
He nods, mouth quirked to one side. When he smiles like that, he looks like my favorite wet dream.
“Okay.” I smile, squeezing my legs together to squash the heat pooling between them. “I have to go. Mom needs me to buy a few things on my way home.”
Sol drags his hand through his hair and yawns. “Think I’m going to crash. For an hour or two.”
I kiss his cheek. “Rest up. Text me when you get discharged.”
I’m about to walk out of the room when Sol calls my name. I glance over my shoulder and meet his tired gaze.
“Thanks for the waffles.”
“Of course.”
I’m kind of addicted to the way he calls my name every time I’m about to leave the room. Like he can’t help but call my name on that almost breathless growl.
The first thing I do after being discharged from the hospital and Luke drives us home is head for the shower. I wasn’t joking when I said it was at the top of my to-do list.
“Need help with anything?” my uncle asks, his gaze meeting mine in the bathroom mirror.
I glance around the tiny space, taking in the new fixtures Luke had installed to make it easy for me to move around; a grab bar on the wall next to the shower and another one inside the shower, and a wood shower bench placed diagonally to fit inside the small space.
My vision blurs with tears. He did all this for me, despite everything I’ve put him through.
Clearing my throat, I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, then face him. “Um, I can take it from here.”
His features soften, and he nods. “Good. Yell if you need anything, yeah?”
I nod, and he turns to leave. “Hey, Luke.”
He pauses and glances over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
He flashes me a smile. “It’s nothing, Sol. You’re home now. I’ll take care of you.”
What did I do to deserve such kindness? I’m going to cry. I can’t let him see me break down.
I wait until my uncle leaves, pulling the door shut behind him. It takes me almost three times longer than normal to strip off my clothes and get inside the shower. Using the hold bar for support, I carefully sit down on the bench. I grab the clear plastic wrap Luke set on the counter and wrap it around my thigh, making sure the incision area is properly covered. Finally, I seal the edges with medical tape. Then I unhook the showerhead and turn the water on.
All of a sudden, my chest feels too tight, and there’s pressure inside my head. My vision blurs with hot tears. I haven’t really had time to process what happened. And now that I’m home, the events of the past week and a half hit me. Hard.
Lowering my head, I let the showerhead dangle in my hand without turning off the shower to keep my sobbing muffled, then let out everything I’ve kept locked inside. The guilt that has been slowly gnawing at me; the fact that I might have died in that accident, but for some reason, I’m here.
My throat closes up, and I can’t breathe. Stars burst before my eyes, and I sway forward. I need air. I need to breathe before I pass out. Shoving my head down as much as I can without hurting my leg, I inhale deeply and exhale through my mouth until the fog in my head clears.