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“Your temperature is down to normal, and all your vital signs have evened out since last night. We’d like you to stay for another hour, but as long as there are no changes, you’ll be free to go home.”
I shift uncomfortably in the hospital bed, wanting to leave now. But I’m not about to whine like a toddler, so I just give the doctor a nod.
“Thank you so much.”
My mother extends her hand, and the doctor shakes it with a distracted smile before heading out. Once patients are dealt with, he’s ready to move on. Efficient. I like that. It reminds me of Holly.
Hell, Holly.
I haven’t texted her since Thursday morning before I crashed in my bed and then woke up with my body on fire. I have no idea what she’s thinking. Hopefully, she’ll just write me off as being busy with finals. My phone is still back at the townhouse on my bed, so I can’t even check if she’s tried to get in contact. If the doctor’s timeline is right, I’ll be home before my normal Saturday dialysis treatment, so I can ask her to come over for that.
And I’ll just tell her …
Well, maybe she won’t ask.
More than anything, I want to keep this hospital visit off of Holly’s radar. That’s why I haven’t asked anyone else to text her. She doesn’t need to know about this. About how sick I am.
I hate the idea of Holly thinking of me as an invalid. She already gets a front-row seat to my treatments. No need for her to hear stories of my multiple hospital visits on top of that.
Right now, I’m the guy she wants to date. Someone she finds attractive.
I just want it to stay that way.
“You gave us a scare, hon.” Mom combs her fingers through my hair and stares down at me with tortured eyes.
I hate that she’s so affected by this.
“Sorry.”
“Not your fault, son.” Dad reaches from the chair he’s sitting in to give my ankle a reassuring squeeze.
We lapse into silence—me worrying about what I’ll say to Holly if she asks where I’ve been and my parents’ thoughts a mystery.
Until my mom speaks up, “I want to talk about Holly.”
Something in her tone makes my spine stiffen. I glance between the two of them. Dad keeps his gaze on his lap while Mom has on her determined expression that she uses with difficult clients.
“What about Holly?”
“Sammy said the two of you are together. That you are dating.”
Her eyes search my face, and I get the strong sense she wants me to deny the claim.
Too bad.
“We are. She’s my girlfriend.”
Her shoulders bow inward as her fingers press the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Ben.”
“What’s wrong with that? I thought you liked Holly.”
Her reaction hurts like a knife to the chest. This is the girl I love we’re talking about, and my mom is acting like I just told her I’m dating a Nazi.
“I do like Holly. She’s a very nice girl. Honestly, I want to kiss the ground she walks on. But, Ben, we’re so close to the donation, and relationships can be messy. Emotions often cause us to make stupid decisions.”
“What are you getting at?”
“What if you two have a fight? What if you say something that rubs her the wrong way? She can back out of this at any time.” She paces at the foot of my bed. The steady click, click, click of her heels hitting the linoleum plays as background music to her worries.
