Page 185 of Broken Saint
“You need to stop staying here,” he says flatly. The words are like a knife through my chest.
I drop my head, refusing to look at him, or anyone.
“Ella,” he warns as Mom begins shifting uncomfortably behind me.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” she says before rushing from the room like her ass is on fire.
“I’m fine, Colt. I want to be here with you,” I say, squeezing his hand, although I think the move is more for me than it is for him.
“You can’t waste all your time sitting in here in the hope I recover,” he says darkly.
“I’m not wasting anything. I’m supporting you, Colt. I’ll do anything for?—”
“You don’t have to. I’ll be okay.”
All the air rushes from my lungs.
I desperately want to ask what he means, but fear grips me in a tight hold, stealing all my words.
A soft knock sounds on the door before my favorite nurse pokes her head in.
“Good afternoon,” she sings happily. She’s the most positive person I’ve ever met.
I’m sure on most people, it would be annoying, but she has this softness about her which stops her positive attitude from grating.
“How’s my favorite patient doing today?” she asks.
I bet she says that to every single one of them, but she says the words with such conviction, it’s easy to believe she’s telling the truth.
Colt grunts beside me, clearly not infected in the slightest by the ray of sunshine that’s just walked in. I get it. She barely scratches the surface of all the pain I’m walking around with right now. But I want to try when she’s in the room. For her. Something tells me she deserves a little positivity in return.
“Colt’s going to get back on his feet later. We’re just waiting for the PT.”
A wide smile spreads across her face. “Well, that is just fantastic. You’re going to be running around, making those tries again before you even know it.”
“That’s rugby,” Colt mutters.
“Oh, silly me. That’s my ex-husband for you.” The fact she’s failed at anything in her life astounds me, let alone marriage. “He was never much of a football fan. Didn’t get the hype at all.”
“It’s not for everyone,” I say, watching as she checks over a few things.
She chats away, filling the air with her hopeful words and sing-song voice, but Colt hardly responds. Instead, he closes himself in and shuts down.
I hate it. All I want to do is be here for him, to try and make all of this as bearable as possible, but he’s refusing to let me in.
It breaks my heart.
I tell myself that it’ll be better once he’s discharged.
As long as he can prove that he’s strong enough, I’ll be able to take him home.
I can be his nurse then. I can give him everything he needs, maybe a few extra things he’s unable to indulge in here.
Before long, we’re left alone again. The second the door closes, ice floods the room.
Reaching over, I grab the blanket from the cot behind me and wrap it around myself. But it doesn’t help. The chill isn’t the temperature; it’s the atmosphere.
“Just think, by the end of the week, you could be at home,” I say, hoping to inject even a little bit of hope into my voice, but I fear I fail miserably. “It’ll be so much better than being stuck here and being forced to watch the game on that little thing,” I say, nodding to the screen in the corner where last night’s Saints game is playing.