“You’ve run dry,” a nurse said, startling me out of my thoughts as she checked the saline bag hanging to my side. “Vitals look good. How are you feeling?”
“Better. Will I be released soon?”
“You’re all stitched up and the blood work is back. There’s no infection. The doctor will be by in a few minutes, and as long as she doesn’t have any further concerns, you should be free to go.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding since being informed an infection might land me in the hospital for a week, maybe two. What good would I be to RJ tethered to an IV in a hospital bed?
“That’s a relief,” I said, and without really thinking I asked, “Have you heard any word on RJ? Is he still in surgery?”
The woman looked up from the IV drip, her utter surprise telling me I wouldn’t be getting any insider information from her. “RJ Contreras? He’s here? At this hospital? So the rumors are true?”
Her answer surprised me. I just figured she’d know the goings-on of her own hospital, but apparently not. And what did she mean by rumors? What exactly was circulating out there? What if my interview had unleashed something entirely unintended?
“Oh, I… I don’t know.” I stumbled over the words. “I just thought…”
“Wait—you’re not the girl everyone’s talking about, are you?”
Jerking my head up, I caught her curious stare. The girl? Oh, shit. Had I become part of the save RJ campaign? That had never been the intention. I’d kept my face and identity hidden in order to keep the focus on him.
I looked to my left. Broken wrist woman was blinking at me with wide, interested eyes. I looked to my right. More of the same. They were leaving me no doubt—the girl in RJ’s story was trending.
“Me? No. I heard it on Twitter.”
The nurse’s face fell in disappointment. The wrist lady looked away. In a matter of seconds, I’d gone back to the nobody I’d always been comfortable being.
Not long after that odd encounter, the doctor came and officially discharged me—but not before word arrived from hospital staff that my mother had called and that she could not get to me due to road closures that had turned her back around on the two-hour drive. And so, I exited the emergency room minutes later utterly alone. It was a weird feeling, being on my own in this new world order. I wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. I was a wilted ghost, wandering the halls. How strange a feeling it was to move from operating on the highest level of octane the body could sustain to this, a deflated balloon with nothing left but its withered remains. And without a phone, I was even more disconnected from the world. I needed to know what was happening around me, though at the same time, I dreaded the news.
I followed signs toward the exit, though I had no intention of leaving the hospital. The plan—my only plan—was to find the waiting room for surgery patients and settle myself down on a plastic chair until I got some word on RJ. It wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go. I was homeless, penniless, and scared out of my wits for a man I might possibly love. Until I learned his fate, I would not leave this place.
As I turned the corner, the corridor opened up into a large brightly lit waiting room, and that was where I saw them, taking up a whole wall of the waiting room. There were at least two dozen of them.
“There she is!” Simone called out. “Thank god.”
My shoulders slumped and tears of relief burst from my eyes as my siblings rushed toward me. Reese got there first, her pregnant belly bumping into my stomach before her arms wrapped tightly around me. Kimber was close behind. Ross and Charlie were joined by Otis as they formed a tight circle around me. But more kept squeezing in. Tim, Simone, Conrad, Kaia. My siblings had heard the cry for help and had dropped everything to be by my side. I sobbed, not from sadness this time but from the relief of knowing I had their unconditional support, which would enable me to come out of this disaster fully intact.
Almost as amazing as being there for me emotionally, my brothers and sisters had also planned several steps ahead so I wouldn’t have to. Having taken up a collection, they’d gathered enough money that I didn’t need to worry about how I would get through the next few weeks.
Slipping an arm around my waist, my sister Cleo announced, “And you’ll be staying with me, sis.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. We have a spare room and have de-slobbered it just for you.”
Cleo’s baby, a six-year-old bulldog named Bubba, a drooling, farting, bad-breath machine, was giving up his nap room just for me.
“Thank you.” I hugged her tight.
RJ’s pick for the Norman Bates of my sibling unit, Landry, stepped up and thrust a phone in my hand.
“Here. It’s yours to keep.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, shocked by his generosity. “This is expensive.”
He shrugged. “My mom gets me the newest model every birthday.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, trying not to judge him too harshly with last year’s iPhone model in my hand. Regardless of how he’d come by it, I was still unbelievably grateful to have my connection to the world restored.
“And don’t worry, I erased anything that could get you in trouble with the law.”
I caught Ross in the background, with those wide disbelieving eyes of his, and I knew what he was thinking. If any of Landry’s search history remained, I could one day expect a visit from the FBI. But I ignored Ross because I needed this phone, and I would risk the consequences down the road.
“Ah, Landry. Look at you, coming in clutch,” I said, hugging his totally stiff body before letting him go. “Thank you for this.”
He blushed, looking more uncomfortable with my affection than charmed. “I have my computer with me. When you’re ready, you can sign into your cloud and download your contacts.”
“You’re the best. Thanks.”
“Story time,” Otis declared, taking my hand and leading me back to a row of chairs. “Tell us exactly what happened. And don’t leave out any part where the scrumptious RJ Contreras stars.”
And so, as my siblings gathered around, I told them the events of the day, leaving out one detail—that the final cut that had amputated RJ’s foot came from my shaky hand. I would’ve preferred not to bring up the amputation at all, believing it was RJ’s choice to reveal that information, but my siblings already knew, since word of his dramatic rescue was spreading across the globe. Yet despite not giving my brothers and sisters every gory detail, I gave them enough that there wasn’t a closed mouth in the group when I was finished.
From the back, Conrad raised his hand. I pointed to him. “Yeah, how did RJ Contreras end up in your parking garage?”
“RJ is Chad.”
The twins both rocked back in their seats in unison. “Chad Woodcock?”
“Yep.”
“Wait—are you talking about that douchey neighbor?” Simone asked.
“Yes. Chad was RJ in disguise.”
Otis looked about ready to explode. “So you’re telling me you’ve been living next door to RJ Contreras and didn’t know it?”
I nodded.
“Not only that,” Charlie said, “but she’s been having daily face-to-face arguments with him for five months and still didn’t recognize him.”