hallway past a handful of closed doors before coming to a stop in front of one labeled Recovery #5.
“Kayla won’t be here long. We’ll move her as soon as she regains consciousness and seems cognizant of her surroundings. It’s important to note that she may not remember much from any of her interactions as she’s coming out of anesthesia,” Dr. Nikols explains.
Both Grayson and I nod our understanding, each of us using the automatic hand sanitizer dispenser bolted to the wall outside the room.
I step across the threshold and stop—fuck! Grayson bumps into my back at my abruptness, our athletic reflexes the only thing keeping us from crashing to the floor in a pile of limbs.
The sight before me slays me. My breaths stutter in my lungs, my heart pushes against my ribcage, and blood roars between my ears.
Kay lies in a hospital bed—a sight I’m pissed is becoming all too familiar—arms resting on top of a white blanket tucked around her waist, IV taped to the back of her right hand, heart rate monitor clipped to the end of her pointer finger—her now ringless finger.
An oxygen tube is tucked inside her nose, the clear plastic following the curve of the bruise on her cheek then hooking over her ears. I wish they were able to wash her hair because her bloody curls look stiff where they’re fanned out on the pillow.
My gaze shifts to the screen next to the bed, focusing on the steady stream of peaks proving she is here, alive, and will be okay.
My need to reaffirm these facts with the physical, to feel the brush of her soft skin on mine, her pulse under my fingertips has me taking the open chair by the bed and carefully slipping my hand under hers. My thumb traces the edges of the tape securing her IV while Grayson pulls up his own chair across from me and takes Kay’s other hand in his.
Neither of us speak, the only sounds in the room the constant flow of oxygen and the even beeps of Kay’s heart rate.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
My breathing syncs with each slow inhalation and exhalation of Kay’s.
A wave of exhaustion rolls over me as the adrenaline from the night starts to wane and my head falls to the bed. Inside my pocket, I can feel my phone vibrate. Normally I would ignore it, but given the events of the evening, my gut tells me I should check it.
As much as we all wish otherwise, I’m sure the story of what happened tonight has gotten out, though whether or not the facts being circulated are correct is another issue altogether. Gossips love drama. Anything to up their likes and shares on social media.
This?
School’s star tight end’s girlfriend gets taken away in an ambulance after a Hawks victory party—it’s like catnip to them.
Plus there’s also the chance—albeit a slim one since it’s the middle of the night—my family has found out what happened and could be reaching out.
I press my thumb to the button to unlock my phone and pull up UofJ411’s Instagram. Sure enough, there are pictures documenting our departure from the Alpha house.
Grayson lets out a snort, and when I look up, his own thumb is swiping along the screen of his phone. I know he must be seeing the same thing as me.
I scroll and scroll, the red low battery icon ignored, not stopping to double-tap a like or comment.
Then…
I see the most recent post.
My hyperawareness of all things Kay is the only reason I’m able to detect the faint twitch against my palm as I reel with thoughts of how somebody was able to get a picture of her in here.
The nurse standing by swoops in to check all of Kay’s vitals, and as much as it pains me to do so, I motion to Grayson that I’m stepping out. It won’t be long before Kay is moved into a regular room, and it looks like we have a whole new set of issues to deal with.
E is not going to react well to this at all. He’s been more—if that’s even possible—adamant about keeping Kay out of the public eye than Kay is about our trending hashtags.
The way E’s pulling at his hair while he talks to Jordan when I make it back to the waiting room tells me he already knows about the pictures. It’s probably also why nurse Vicki has made a reappearance.
“Bruh…where’s your shirt?” JT’s question has me noticing him for the first