Page 79 of Knot So Social

I’m dying? Who knows if I’ll walk again? I keep the fears locked behind my teeth, but a groan slips out. “I . . . I’m not sure, to be honest.”

Mr Shares bounces forward, all rippling fur and heavy paws. When he bumps my hip, another moan ripples through me. I roll toward that side, hunching in against the pain. Visions of metal rods and full leg casts add to the torment.

“Fuck, Jeremy! What is it? Wait a sec.” Willow grabs Mr Shares and tows him down the hall, her uneven steps loud on the tiles. A door slams shut and then she thumps back to my side. Her fingers shake as she flutters over me. “I’ll, I’ll call the ambulance. Don’t move.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I quip back.

“Then quit talking too,” she snaps, searching for a phone she doesn’t have on her.

I fish mine out of a pocket, glad it wasn’t on the other side, crushed beneath me.

“Here,” I croak.

Tears fill her eyes as she dials, and her breaths come sharp and fast.

“Why are you crying?” I mutter, resting my hand on her knee. “Did you get hurt after all?”

“It’s because you’re hurt, you big dummy,” she says, voice sharp.

The genuine fear leeching off her distracts me from my pain.

“It’s gonna be okay.” I stroke her kneecap.

“You don’t know that!”

“It’ll heal.” Eventually. Probably?

Sweat beads on my forehead. I’ve broken bones before, playing football in high school. This feels different, but with the same pain level. Throbbing needlepoints rush up and down my leg and across my waist with every breath.

Shit, what if I’ve broken my hip? That’s gonna be a sucky healing time.

Willow speed talks with the operator on the 911 call. I blink hard to keep track of their conversation, but the sounds blur together at times.

“Jeremy?”

“Hmm?”

“Stay awake. You may have hit your head. The lady says to keep you awake.”

“Okay.” Oh, another concussion? Or maybe the first one never quite healed. I slither one hand across the tiles, and she takes it in hers. “S-Sorry. For r-ruining your heat.”

She scoffs. “You didn’t. And it was over, remember?”

“Right.” That’s why she was telling me to leave. “I didn’t want it to be over.”

She stays silent but squeezes my fingers. The warmth is nice; reminds me of our time together.

“Oh. A g-guy came looking for you.” Gotta tell her now while I remember. “Lawnmowing business. Something about a f-fence?”

“Alessandro.”

“Sounds right. Do you l-like him?” Must be the pain making me blurt out stuff I have no business saying. And making my teeth chatter.

Willow makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “He’s nice. He rescued Mr Shares when he jumped over the back fence.”

I attempt a whistle, but it only comes out as a pathetic oooh. That cute dog is trouble central, my present condition a case in point. “Explains why Mr Shares likes him so much. Must be a great guy, then.”

She snorts, fingers grazing my cheek as she cleans up the dog spittle. “He likes you too.”