Page 175 of Halo

“I considered it,” I joke, glancing at him in the reflection as I braid my hair. “The cold water felt glorious.”

He presses his lips into my hair. “More hot flashes?”

“Yeah.” I shrug, turning my attention back to the mirror. “But it’s okay.”

“Leah—”

“It is.” I tie off my hair. “My body’s trying to figure out this whole menopause thing, and she’s being a little dramatic about it.”

His mouth twitches. “You know if you want to talk about it—”

“I know … but it's okay,” I say, mostly because I need both of us to believe it.

It’s my fifth day in the hospital, and even though I am grateful for all of the men and women who have taken care of me, I'm ready to sleep on my own with no interruptions.

There's a strong possibility I may get discharged soon since I'm tolerating my medication. Walking

I’m finally starting to feel like I might actually get out of here. My pain is mostly manageable with medication, I’m getting up and walking around on my own, and I’ve changed my ostomy bag by myself twice now. Not exactly a skill I ever imagined being proud of, but here we are.

If everything keeps moving in the right direction, I might get to go home soon.

Well, my new home.

“The movers just finished loading everything up, and Santi, Jon, and Tate are meeting them at my place. And Angus—” he glances at the clock—“should be getting his storytime with a cookie at doggy daycare right about now.”

We share a laugh as a comfortable silence settles between us.

“Come here,” he murmurs.

I don't waste any time. I step into his waiting arms, resting my head against his chest as his arms envelop me. “Are you sure you want all of this? You can still turn back. I wouldn't blame you.”

“That … can't be an honest question.”

I chuckle. “I'm just saying … you're sacrificing a lot. ”

“I don't see it that way. And besides—” he lifts my chin—“you’re worth it.” He presses his lips to mine once—then twice—before lingering close enough that our foreheads touch.

A voice clears behind us.

With his arm protectively around me, Nick and I spin around to find my parents standing just inside the door.

Mom’s eyes go straight to my face, then lower to where Nick touches me. Dad’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. They both elect to stay silent.

“What are y’all doing here?” I ask.

Mom recovers first. “You had an operation, sweetheart.” Her voice breaks on the last word as she comes toward me. “Where else would we be?”

“I'm grateful y'all came, but … the surgery was almost a week ago.”

“Didn't you get our flowers?”

I glance over at the pretty bouquet of white roses. “I did, and they're lovely. But—”

“We knew you were in great hands, and—” she gives my dad a look—“we didn't want to get in the way during those first few days of recovery.”

Honestly, she’s right. They would’ve been in the way. But it still would’ve been nice if they’d come. Even if they spent the whole visit flipping through channels or reading every last thing on the hospital menu. Anything to keep their attention somewhere else in the room … anywhere but on me.

They weren’t going to help me with my socks when it was time to walk the halls. They weren’t going to sneak popsicles out of the freezer down the hall or straighten my sheets when I couldn’t get comfortable. They definitely weren’t going to make sure my sweet baby angel got his doggy treat at storytime.