Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,36
extra sure. That sound okay?”
I nod and close my eyes. Then I remember the warning about sleeping and peel them open.
By the way he chuckles, the doctor seems to read the thought tumbling through my mind. “Tired?”
“A little.”
He squints at the clipboard. “It’s okay to sleep if you feel tired, actually. The nurses will check up on you periodically once we admit you to a room upstairs. We’ll wake you up every couple hours to make sure you’re doing okay. If your boyfriend can stay with you and keep you company, too, that’s even better.”
“Oh no, he’s . . .”
The gentle frown crowding Tate’s face halts me. The doctor and the nurse probably don’t care that he’s not my boyfriend, just a coworker who I shared a hot car make-out with.
When the doctor leaves, the nurse says someone will be in soon to fetch me and take me to a room upstairs. She walks out the door, leaving Tate and me alone once more.
“I wasn’t trying to make it seem like you and I—I mean, I didn’t want to get into . . .”
He holds up a hand, then a half smile crawls across his face. “Don’t even worry about it.”
“You can leave. I’ll be fine here alone.”
His smile drops.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I assumed you’d be tired from all you did today. And that you’d be sick of me.”
“I’m not,” he says quietly.
There’s eagerness behind his eyes, and I realize he truly wants to stay with me. My stomach flips with excitement and relief. And then it hits me: I want Tate here with me, too, no one else.
“Then stay here with me. If you want.”
With his calming blue-gray eyes, he holds my gaze. They’re the perfect hue to warm up this sterile white room.
“I’d love to,” he says.
ten
One hour later, I’m in a private room on the fourth floor. Tate walks to the window, whipping open the curtains before walking back to my bedside.
“What time is it?”
He checks the clock on the wall. “Almost six.”
I mouth, “Wow,” silently to myself. I should have known from the dark orange sunlight shining behind the concrete tower crowding my window view. Tate has taken care of me and been by my side for the past few hours. He’s watched me fall, smoothed my hair back, consoled me, held me, propped me up when I couldn’t walk. Now he gets to watch me struggle to relax while I recover from a concussion.
“And I called Lynn to update her on everything. She says everyone is relieved you’re okay. They all say hi. Wanna try to take a nap?”
Hearing the word “nap” is like the opposite of a trigger. My body unclenches, and fatigue rushes through me like air. “What will you do?” I say through a yawn.
“Hang out right here.” He pulls a chair up to the side of the hospital bed. When he sits down, he’s facing me, his knees inches away. If he reached his arm out, he could touch my face. “Don’t worry about me.”
His fingers brush the top of my hands for two seconds before he returns his hand to the top of his leg. I close my eyes.
* * *
• • •
SHORT NAPS ARE all I manage until the sky outside my window turns indigo, indicating the dead of evening. Tate still sits by my bedside, like a patient guardian. He alternates between reading something on his phone and skimming through a stack of magazines he found near the nurses’ station.
Through a handful of blinks, I study him. His eyes are heavy with fatigue. Then they cut to me.
“No reading over my shoulder. You’re not supposed to tax your brain. Rest like a good patient, okay?” A yawn follows his gentle warning.
“You’re tired.”
“A little, but I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places before, believe it or not.”
When I open my mouth, I expect to hear myself ask what places are less comfortable than a shoddy plastic chair, but then I hear myself say, “That chair is no good to spend the night in. Stay up here with me.”
Dread fills me when I realize how desperate I sound, but it quickly dissipates. His eyes don’t widen in surprise like I thought they would. Instead, a relieved smile appears. “Okay.”
It brings warmth to my chest, setting me at ease. It’s a welcome counter to the soreness lingering in my body. I slide to one edge of the hospital bed and shift to my