Touch And Go - Aiden Bates Page 0,12
to give.
“You were pulled out of the Potomac River near the Arlington Memorial Bridge, and resuscitated here. You’ve got a nasty concussion, so we’re monitoring you. We had to shock your heart because you came in without a pulse or any breath sounds even, and you need to recover from that—probably just a few days since you’re young and healthy. All things considered, you’re one lucky kid.”
I winced. “I’m not a kid.” If I sounded vehement, angry even, it was because I got that a lot. And I wasn’t a kid. Age was a number. Experience determined how old a person was. And I’d survived my share of experience.
His eyes went wide, but he smiled slowly. “Okay.”
I didn’t have the energy to flash him one in return, so I let the information sink in. My heart had stopped. I died? Shit… And I was found in the river? The Potomac was a block away from my apartment. How the hell had I ended up in the water? Did Ben know what had happened?
My stomach turned, and I closed my eyes as the room began to spin. I was in some kind of trouble. I certainly hadn’t gone into the water on my own and the alternatives to that weren’t much better.
The last thing I remembered was Ben coming for me, but he wouldn’t dump me in the river. Of course, maybe he knew what really happened. I had to speak to him.
“Cool. Thanks for…saving me. I’ve got to get out of here.” I needed to see my brother. Now. Waiting would only make things worse.
“Whoa, slow down, you’ll get lightheaded.” Dr. Dish put his hand on my arm again as I sat straight and went to swing my legs over the side of the bed.
Of course, he was right. The room swam in little blurry waves of color and motion. But no way could I lie here and wait for it to right itself. I fell back against the bed and huffed in frustration. “Seriously, doc. I’ve got to go.”
Edging his chair closer to the bed, he frowned and pursed his lips. All concern, with no real reason.
“Listen, Sebastian—”
“Seb.”
“Right. Seb. We can talk in confidence here, with doctor-patient confidentiality.” He nudged closer still and held my gaze. Intense. Delicious despite being so serious. “Aside from your medical issues, I want to make sure you’re safe before you leave.”
My guts went cold and a shudder ran up my back when I considered just how much danger I must have been in to end up with a lungful of Potomac slurry. “Yeah, me too, that’s why I want to leave.” I didn’t want to believe this had anything to do with Ben. I didn’t want to believe that my recent run of bad luck was his fault, either, but I needed to hear it from him, needed him to look at me and say he hadn’t involved me and that my seeing his spreadsheet hadn’t put my life at risk. But somehow, I’d ended up in the water. And I wasn’t the kind who would’ve thrown myself off a bridge.
“What are you afraid of?” Concern deepened his voice and I almost fell for it. Almost gave in. “Are you afraid someone’s going to do something if you speak to me?”
Through the foggy haze of my concussion, I bit back a gasp when I realized what was happening. He thought I was in an abusive relationship, and maybe even that I’d thrown myself off the bridge. Fine, I could let him think that. If I told him about Ben coming after me, he would immediately think I was here because my brother hurt me. And we didn’t know that. I didn’t know it. So, no, I couldn’t tell him anything.
It was a struggle, but I managed to keep a straight face.
“I’m okay. Seriously. No one tried to hurt me, I didn’t try to hurt myself, it was an accident. For real.” I grimaced inside at how overly insistent I sounded. I wouldn’t have believed a word if I was in his position.
But Dr. Dish nodded as though taking my word for it, while his eyes pinned me against the bed. My heart raced, and my chest tingled until I dragged my eyes away. He cleared his throat.
“Well, just in case you need them, I have some pamphlets here. Outpatient clinics for various conditions, such as depression, anxiety…suicidal ideation… And some local outreach for people in abusive situations.” He sounded so genuinely kind and