AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ali loosened her hand from his grasp, placing it on the bed to leverage herself.
“Do you want to use the bathroom?” Cornell asked, standing and reaching to pull the blanket off her legs.
Shaking her head, Ali took a deep breath and pushed herself to the side, further away from him. “No. I want you to come here.”
Cornell’s face grew impossibly sadder, and he shuffled his feet. “Ali… you’re hurt.”
“So are you,” she whispered, hearing Cornell suck in a breath.
Ali knew he would never admit just how awful this all was for him. Cornell was no stranger to masking uncomfortable, painful feelings, deep-seated emotions the stoicism that defined his adolescence forced him to keep to himself. His father had wrongfully pressed the “if you can walk, you can play” mentality deep into his head, and she knew that Cornell still carried that years later, always wanting to be strong even when he was struggling.
But Ali knew Cornell well enough to know that his need to touch and be touched was what gave him the most reassurance in the world. And watching the way he anxiously drummed his fingers and nervously bounced his legs, Ali knew Cornell was holding back from making both of them feel better.
Trying to hide how scooting inches to her right felt like she had just run a marathon, Ali pressed her head against the pillow. “Please?”
It was a plea for her as well, because between the throbbing in her head and the ache in every bone in her body, Cornell was the only thing that felt good. She was broken and bent, bleeding and bruised. But what her body needed most at that moment was the feeling of warmth, safety, and love. And Cornell encapsulated those things for her with every touch, every squeeze, and every breath he left against her skin.
He sighed, toeing off his shoes and carefully climbing in beside her, laying on his side. With one arm across her chest, Cornell carefully avoided her fractured middle. His hand cupped her face again, and he rested his lips against her cheek.
The only thing Ali wished for more than a shower at that moment was for him to pull her tighter so that the feel of him would overwhelm the confusion and the pain. “I’m sorry I smell,” she said, feeling embarrassed.
Ali was certain that if heaven had a scent, it would be his—like soap and sandalwood, a fresh load of laundry, everything pure and right. If heaven had a feeling, it would be his body—firm and secure with the softest touch, mirroring exactly who Cornell was, tall, tattooed, and tough on the outside and soft, gentle, and sweet within.
“Shut up,” he said into the matted mess of her hair. His thumb stroked her mouth, careful of the cut. Cornell breathed her in again and his hand dropped, moving across her chest lightly to hold her shoulder, squeezing just enough. “Living never smelled better.”
* * *
Ali took a deep breath, dropping the brush back into the bag on the floor as the nurse who helped her shower and wash her hair left the bathroom. Cornell peeked his head in, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “You good?”
Her head began to throb again, but she was afraid to say anything, worried that the returned pain would be an excuse to keep her in the hospital longer. “Yeah. Would you mind getting that?” Ali pointed to the bag. “I can’t bend down.”
Cornell stepped into the bathroom, picking up his gym bag and zipping it shut. When he stood, Ali moved closer to him, pressing her head against his chest. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and Ali just shook her head against him. “Al?”
“I just feel… weird.”
Ali’s gaze turned to her hand clutching Cornell’s side. It looked like her hand, apart from the bruising from the cannula. She pressed her fingertips against him. It moved like her hand. She shook her head. It didn’t feel like her hand. The slightest chill blew across her skin, and Ali shivered.
“Why don’t we see if they let you stay another night?” Cornell said softly, his voice heavy with concern. “I’ll stay with you.”
“No,” she said against his T-shirt. “I want to go home.”
Cornell sighed and pulled back just enough so he could see her face when she looked up. “You’re going to have to fight your mom on that. She wants you to go to Fort Worth for a few days.”
“What? Why?”
“Because,” came Bobbi’s voice, “you need someone with you all the time. Cornell has to go back to work.”
He frowned. “I told her—”
“You have to. Ali knows that,” Bobbi said.
“You do,” Ali told him. “But I’ll be fine by tomorrow. I just need a good night’s sleep in my own bed.”
Bobbi shook her head. “Doctor’s orders. You need twenty-four-hour care. You have a traumatic brain injury.”
“It’s a concussion, Mom.”
“A concussion is a traumatic brain injury,” Bobbi retorted.
