Page 76 of Perfect Guy
Madelyn
Itfeltlikean eternity until I was finally able to see Canaan. I wasn’t sure they’d let me in since I’m not family, but Mrs. Collins must’ve pulled some strings. My eyes sting with tears when I walk into the hospital room, and I blink them away, refusing to show weakness. Canaan needs me to be strong.
Seeing him there, lying in bed with tubes and beeping machines monitoring him, makes my breath catch, but I’m so grateful he’s alive. I’ll stand by him no matter what.
I take tentative steps toward the side of the bed. He’s awake, but his eyes are unfocused. I sit beside him with a small smile, those stubborn tears threatening to fall. I sniff, attempting to keep them controlled.
Canaan turns his head to look at me. His movements are sluggish, which is expected considering everything. His left arm is in a cast.
“Hi,” I whisper.
His lips barely lift in a smirk.
“You scared the crap out of me.” I gently reach for his hand, wrapping my fingers around his.
Canaan doesn’t speak. He lies there and watches me. Silence fills the room as I stroke the tops of his fingers, basking in this moment. He’s alive. He’s awake.
I stare into his eyes, hoping he can recognize the love in my eyes. The doctor said he needs rest and tranquility. Stressful situations will hinder and delay his recovery, so I want to be his peace.
His fingers squeeze mine, and I smile.
“M…” It’s a murmur passing through his lips.
“I’m here, Cane. I’m here…” I reassure him. “Not going anywhere.” I want to kiss his forehead, his cheek, anything to have some kind of contact, but I hold myself back.
His eyes close, his chest rhythmically rising and falling.
“Stay,” he whispers.
“I’m here. Not leaving ’til they kick me out.”
He smirks again, and it’s a ray of sunshine on this dark day. I never thought I could care for someone this much, that love could be this intense. It feels like he’s holding my heart. I’m no longer in control of it.
It makes me realize how fragile it really is. If something happens to him, it happens to me. The pain is shared. It’s terrifying, but I would never trade this for anything.
“Stubborn,” he mumbles.
“Always, especially if it means I get to stay here longer. Be with you.” Unable to hold back, I run my fingertips across his face, tracing his features. Canaan sighs, his body relaxing with an exhale.
“When they kick me out, I’ll return. I’ll always come back. Okay?” My words come out strangled.
He blinks his eyes open, scanning my face for the briefest moment.
“You keep fighting and recovering. I’ll be here, by your side. Day in and day out,” I promise.
He subtly nods, weaving his fingers with mine that are still wrapped around his. I know the road to recovery is going to be intense. There will be ups and downs, but I’m going to stand by his side. I’m not afraid. What terrifies me is losing him. I can handle the rest if he’s alive. Like he said, I’m stubborn, and I won’t back down easily.
I go to the hospital every day. Sometimes early in the morning, other times in the afternoon when I’m done working. Canaan is recovering. It’s a slow process, but he’s gotten better. The scans they’ve done show his traumatic brain injury is mild, which means in a few months, he should be okay.
I’m not sure if any lasting complications will persist, but I’ve been reading about the topic nonstop on my phone. It’s not the wisest idea since there’s so much different information, and not all of it is positive. When I come across an article that talks about death or complicated effects, I close it out. Whether it’s a reality or not, I don’t need those thoughts plaguing my mind and affecting my mentality.
Grayson, the fire department chief, has visited him a few times as well, making sure he’s recovering and doesn’t need anything. The entire town has asked about Canaan, offering to help in any way. Times like this remind me why I love Mason Creek so much. We’re a community, through and through. Sure, everyone loves gossip, but they watch out for their own like a mama bear watching her cubs.
“Hey,” I walk into Canaan’s hospital room. The doctor said he might be discharged tomorrow, which means he’s on the right path to recovery.
“Hi.” His smile is fuller now than that first day I saw him, but he still has a way to go before he’s strong and completely healthy.
“How are you?” I sit beside him. “I ran into your mom in the hallway. She went down for coffee and will be back soon.”