Page 54 of Teach Me To Sin
Tipping his head back, he closes his eyes and sighs. “No worries. How can I help you?”
“I came to ask about a patient? Bennett Atwood?” It’s cold up here, and the traces of rain lingering on my skin make me shiver. “I just want to know what condition he’s in.”
He blinks at me, then grimaces like he has a migraine. “Is he a family member?”
“No, just a…friend.”
Standing up, he leans his elbows on the counter and gestures for me to come closer. “Can I be honest with you, sir? I’m having a hell of a night, and I’m not sure what to do. Mr. Atwood is ready to be discharged. He’s still in rough shape, but he’ll heal better at home. And weneedhis bed urgently. His family promised someone named Gideon would pick him up hours ago, but he never came and they don’t seem concerned. If your friend consents, would you be able to take him?”
“Oh…” My unwashed hair feels greasy when I run my hand through it. “I don’t know. Can I see him?” Every part of me is screaming to take care of the man who wormed his way so deep into my heart. But that’s the same weakness that made me invite a stranger to swim for me in the first place.
Leading me down the quiet hall, the nurse gestures to a dimly-lit room. “We got him ready to leave, but when no one came, he fell asleep again,” he whispers. “And I’m sorry we had to give him clothes from the donation bin. No one dropped any off for him.”
I’ve never seen Benji look so fragile, drowning in an old, oversized t-shirt and sweats as he sleeps curled up on his side in the big hospital bed. Pale blue dressings on his left shoulder peek out from the collar of his tee, and his left arm is in a cast. My stomach drops when I see the bandage around his eyes. “Is heblind?”
The nurse pulls me away, so we can talk without waking him. “No, no. His sight will be fine. He has extremely dry, painful eyes from the smoke. He should be able to wear sunglasses starting tomorrow, but for tonight this was the easiest way to keep him comfortable. If you do take him, I have a handout explaining his eye drop schedule.”
I prop my shoulder against the wall to try and stave off the dizziness at the edges of my vision. “What else?”
“He has two fractures in his lower arm, some extensive first degree burns on his shoulder and back, and a mild concussion. Our biggest concerns are respiratory irritation and lung damage from the smoke. He may be very weak for a few days, but he should recover well as long as you follow all the care instructions and the medication regimen. We’ll also need to make some follow-up appointments where we can monitor his lung function.” He searches my face to gauge my reaction, but I’m just blank, struggling to process. “Considering the time he spent in the burning building and the severity of the fire, he’s extremely lucky someone found him when they did,” he prompts gently, like he thinks I’m about to blame the hospital for his injuries.
“Fuck.” Right now, I wish I had Victor’s smoking habit–anything to ease the stress. When they find out, my friends will hate me for doing this. Hell, I hate myself. “I’ll take him, but I need time to find a hotel. Let him sleep until then.” I don’t want Benji in my home, and I’m pretty sure the Atwoods will track down my residence using the name I sign on the discharge paperwork. The last thing I want is a faceoff with Gareth Atwood while I’m practically hallucinating from lack of sleep.
The nurse sags with relief. “Thank you so much, sir. He’s a sweet kid, and no one has been here to help him at all. I really didn’t want to just push him out the door. I’ll go prep his paperwork and call down his medications.”
I see one tiny, sad molded plastic chair sitting by itself at the end of the hall, so I perch on the edge and call one hotel after another until I find one which includes a kitchen suite and will allow me to arrive at midnight with an undetermined checkout date. When I’m finished, I shoot Tate a text:Long story, I’m taking Benji to a hotel for a couple of days until he can manage his own. I know, don’t ask. I’ll text you the address.Colson’s name is still near the top of my messages, but I guess he’s partway across the Pacific now. That thought makes my throat squeeze.
Finally, I get up and return to Benji’s room. The nurse is bustling around inside while Benji sits on the edge of the bed with his head hanging, hugging himself as best he can. “Here he is,” the nurse narrates helpfully. “I’ll let you do the paperwork. Find me when you’re ready to be wheeled downstairs.”
Benji’s shoulders pull up around his ears, and he shrinks away a little. “Gideon?” he asks in such a small, hoarse voice I can barely hear him.
I take a step closer, but still keep my distance. “No, it’s me. Gideon didn’t show up. Do you want me to try and contact him instead?”
At the sound of my voice, he sucks in a breath and then coughs painfully, retching a little and flinching at the strain on his burns. “No, no,” he croaks, his voice still so weak. “Please no. Please don’t make me go with him.” After a long silence, he whispers, “Is it all gone?”
“Pretty much.”
He shudders with a soft whimper. “Oh god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was going to…I swear. Please believe me.”
“Shhh.” His words stumble to a halt and he sits there, stiff and miserable, his lip trembling a little. “You broke my heart, Bennett.”
He flinches. “Please don’t call me that.”
“Benji. I’m a fucking mess. But I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. That’s all I can give you right now.”
“Thank you.” He pulls further into himself, like he’s a turtle trying to huddle in its shell. “Where’s…”
“Colson?” I watch him play with his fingers in his lap, his hands shaky. I’m doing my best not to sound bitter, because Colson of all people didn’t do anything wrong. “He helped save you from the fire. But he had to go catch his ship. What else could he do? His whole life was already packed away.”
“Alrighty,” the nurse says too cheerfully as he pushes a wheelchair into the room. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Benji can stand on his own, but he collapses thankfully into the chair. Every time he moves, he starts coughing again until my own lungs hurt just listening to him. I follow them downstairs, where the nurse takes us to the pharmacy and makes sure I get all the right medications. “If you have any questions, just give us a call. He needs a follow up appointment in a few days, so please call tomorrow and get that set up.” The man delivers more rapid-fire instructions as we cross the dark, chilly parking lot to my car. I look down at the thick folder in my hand with a feeling of drowning, but I just nod.
Once he gets Benji tucked in the passenger seat, I turn on the heat and addjacketto the list of things I need to somehow locate for him tomorrow, along withfoodandtoiletries. I don’t have any of my own things either, besides a toothbrush and deodorant I keep in my car. I’m so out of it that I don’t feel at all safe driving us the ten minutes to the hotel. Fortunately, the roads are almost deserted.
I leave Benji in the car while I check in, then return with the room keys and open the passenger door. Benji angles his head toward the sound uneasily. The eye bandages are the scariest-looking of his injuries, and I can’t wait for them to be gone. “Can you walk? Because I don’t know how to do this otherwise.”
“I can do it,” he murmurs, struggling to get his feet out of the car and onto the ground.