Page 64 of Really Truly Yours
I feel like I’ve missed something.
Wait. Sunshine?
Jerk. It’s bad of him to mess with a girl like that.
Get a stinkin’ grip, Syd.
I pry some hairs off my cheek, only imagining how I must look. “What’s going on?”
My question elicits a defiant snort from Donny.
Gray raises the coffee like he’s about to drink. “Just chatting. They’re about to take him down for more tests.”
The patient grumbles in earnest. I stand, stretching out the kinks, and I ignore the sweep of Grayson’s gaze. A personal moment to wake up, please?
Oh-so stiffly, I put one foot in front of the other. I can’t wait to feel normal again. The doctor assures me I’ll get there, but I’m still waiting.
Donny’s scowl stops me near the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong?”
His pointy chin pokes out. “I don’t need no more tests.”
Grayson’s eyes and mine connect. “Yes, he does, and he’s only grumpy because his ankle hurts and he won’t let them give him any painkillers.”
“’Cuz I don’t need none of them, neither!”
“Don’t be stubborn, Donny.” This from Grayson, biceps bulging beneath sleep-creased shirt sleeves.
I pat Donny’s good foot cocooned in the sheet. “I understand.”
“Hey, you’re supposed to help me convince him to take something, Sydnee Lou.”
My smile feels sheepish, but I’m not apologetic. “When you’ve been where he has, you don’t want to ever go back.”
I ignore the spinning questions in Gray’s eyes. No, I have never used drugs, but the addicts in my life outnumber the stars.
Let him think what he will.
Donny gives me a pained smile. “Thanks, hon.” He sets the fork down, grimacing. “Now, you kids run along. This hovering is ridiculous. I got stuff under control, and you two need to get outta here and get some rest.”
“But—”
“I said git. Both of you.” He splits a scowl equally between the two of us.
Grayson looks over. “I do have a couple things to take care of this morning. Should we head out?”
Clearly, Donny needs some space as he struggles with pain. I absolutely have to work later, too. I answer with a nod.
Grayson squeezes Donny’s shoulder and backs up. “Alright, old man. Looks like you’re getting your way.”
I fill the gap, clasping Donny’s fingers. “Call if you need anything, okay?”
He returns my grip. “Will do, hon. Hey, can you dump this orange juice out fer me? I don’t want it, and it’s cluttering stuff up.” He hands me a full glass.
“Sure.” I take it. “Okay, Donny. Now, remember.” I turn. “Call or text—”
Like a reckless toast, the juice collides with Gray’s coffee as he moves in to say goodbye. Brown and yellow slosh up and over the rims. I yelp and jump backwards. Gray sputters a borderline word, jerking his cup high and to the side. He stares down.
Oh no.