My house looks like a florist shop. I didn’t get to go home Sunday. Or Monday. When the doctor said a few days, I thought three. I’d been hoping for two, but here I am, Tuesday, and finally home.
“What the—?” Dad helps me as I step into what I thought was my bedroom, but it doesn’t look the same. I straighten and look around. The room has undergone a makeover. Like, a huge makeover. I do a double take because it’s so different and in the best way.
“Do you like it?” Dad asks warily.
Tears spring to my eyes. “Like it? I love it.”
My old childhood bed has been replaced by a queen-size with a dark walnut headboard. The quilt is plain black, and there are scatter pillows in pink and blue, giving color to the otherwise dark bed. It looks fantastic.
The walls are still white, but they now display old photos I hadn’t seen in years in black frames. A blue lamp sits on my new desk, which is a matching dark walnut, and the desk chair is a white leather. Everything looks so different but so…perfect.
Except the strange table sitting to the side. That doesn’t belong here. It doesn’t match the rest of the room. I point at it, and Dad chuckles.
“Oh, that’s not going to stay. Borrowed it from a friend. It’s just like the hospital one.” But I realize it’s a little harder to move on the carpet as I watch him push it over to the bed.
I hug him. It hurts, but he is gentle. “I love this, Dad. Thank you.” I swipe the back of my hand over my eyes to stop the tears from falling.
“I wanted to do it when you got back, but then so much was going on that it slipped my mind. I hope you like it. Kate and Madison helped with the colors. Asher and Walker helped carry it all up here while I was with you. They put the desk and bed together and set it all up without me.”
“So, if it falls apart in the middle of the night, I need to blame Asher and Walker is what you’re saying?”
Dad chuckles. “I’m just so glad to have you home, Mila. You scared me so much; I thought I had lost you.”
I hug him again, sad that I made him feel like that. He already lost me once when Mom took me to New York. Which reminds me…
“Does Mom know? Did she call?” I held my breath, waiting for the answer.
“I called her and told her”—he holds the bridge of his nose—“and there is no excuse for her to not come here. But she said she had to think of the baby and that the flight would cause too much stress. She said she would call you once you woke up, but…”
He gives me a small smile and mouths, “Sorry,” as he kisses my head.
I feel bad that Dad has to tell me that. I’m not sure what I thought Mom would do but doing nothing seems to have answered that question. She knew I was in a coma and still didn’t see me or call me. I feel bad for the poor child she’s bringing into this world. No one deserves to be treated like that; she’s a shit mom to me. I don’t see her improving for any new children.
“Let’s get you into your new bed. The mattress is soft and so comfortable.”
Dad helps me into bed, and he’s right, the mattress is soft and so much better than the old one. He sets up my laptop on the odd little table so I can watch all the Netflix I want.
“Now, call me if you need anything, and I’ll come right away.” He lifts a bell from the nightstand that also matches the dark walnut furniture. He rings the bell and I laugh.
“Rest, and I will make us a late lunch.” He walks out, leaving the door open. To hear my bell, I guess. Sinking deep into the mattress, I close my eyes.
“Well, hello there, angel.”
My eyes fly open, and I jerk up in bed, my body protesting at the sudden movement. I gasp for air, my heart racing a million miles a minute. That voice…his face.
The cops had been to question me, but I knew if I told them where I’d been and who had hurt me that Roman would get in trouble. I couldn’t do that to him. Even though I haven’t heard from him since I woke up. No one has.
Hunter told me that they’re out looking for him. I need to get well again so I can look for him too. Would the guy who hit me…would he be back? Does he have Roman?
I let out a loud sob as my heart starts to break for him all over again. Where’s Roman? He needs me. He’s hurting, he has to be, and he’s hiding like a wounded animal would. He needs help. Deep in my chest, I can feel that he needs me. Us.
“Mila? Mila, sweetheart.” Dad runs into the room, his eyes wide and unsure of what to do. His hands hover over me, he doesn’t know how to help me.
I give him a sad smile, tears flowing and my throat tight with worry. “I’m okay, I just worry about Roman. He’s out there all alone; he needs someone, and I’m worried he’s lost. I need to go find him. I will keep him safe.”
Closing my eyes, I put my hands to my face, the edge of the cast smacking my cheekbone which makes me cry harder. Not at the pain, but at the reminder that, while I’m here, Roman could be in real trouble, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I eventually cry myself to sleep as my dad holds me.
Dad has to help me move around the house, it’s part of the doctors’ orders. Someone needs to be here to help me for at least the first week. And knowing my dad, he is taking that job extra seriously.
The stairs hurt more than I wanted to admit when I got home, so being confined to my room is good enough for me. The only crap thing is Dad has to be there all the time…like, even when I go to do my business, he is right outside the door.
I told him I will call out when I’m done, but he is so worried that he spends the whole time asking me if I’m okay just on the other side of the door. Over and over.
I’m hoping to sneak in there by myself when he goes to work. He needs to go to work. I don’t care what the doctors say, I’m fine on my own for a few hours.
“Do you want some tuna casserole that Ella made?”
I shake my head. That’s one thing Dad has been doing all day—feeding me meals that people have cooked for us. Ella popped over earlier to see how I am and to take requests. I asked for her fish tacos. The way she cooks them, they’re amazing. She said she will have them ready for tomorrow night’s dinner and to expect Grady to be the one here eating them with me, since they are his favorite.
It made me happy to know I would be seeing Grady. He brought a care package over while I was sleeping earlier. It’s full of chocolate and a card with a puppy on it. Inside, it read, “Get well soon, Mimi. Love, your Rebel in red. Go Rebels.”
I chuckled at that. I think Asher might have given everyone the idea that I’m a King supporter now. I did watch the Kings play…and like I said, the Royals were better. But I also watched the highlights of the Rebels game. They didn’t do well missing two of their star players. I could see the frustration on Jace’s face.
But it wasn’t enough to feel sorry for him. Fucking dick!
I turn on my laptop and look for something I can binge-watch while relaxing for a few hours. Something mind-numbing that will distract me from Jace and, especially, from Roman.
“What are you watching?” Dad asks, a bottle of water in his hand. When he passes it to me, I look at the two other bottles he brought me earlier that sit untouched.
I hold in a frustrated sound. I love my dad, and I know I scared him, but he’s hovering. I get it, but I need time to breathe too. I swear, he just finds reasons to keep coming in here.
“It’s some murder show.” I take a small breath and let it out. I shouldn’t be upset that my dad wants to make sure I’m okay and spend time with me. I guess after four years of not having anyone to hold my hair back when I was sick or care if my day was good or not, it makes moments like these overwhelming instead of comforting. Mom ruined everything taking me away from here.
“Oh yeah?” he replies and just stands there, looking at the laptop screen as it shows an actress in a reenactment of the real-life woman putting antifreeze in a cup that she will hand to her actor husband in a moment.
“It’s a true crime thing. Netflix suggested it because I watched that Zac Efron as Ted Bundy movie yesterday. It’s about women who kill their lovers. It’s interesting. I put it on more for a background noise, but I’m glued to it. She kills not one but two husbands with antifreeze.”
“Is that right?”
I turn and see Dad nodding his head, probably thinking I’m crazy. Not that I blame him. I never thought this would be so fascinating. I only watched the Ted Bundy thing because I was having a bit of a Zac is a hottie moment yesterday.
I feel the bed dip as Dad sits and stares at the screen while the woman gives her actor husband the cup full of the antifreeze and he drinks it.
Two hours later, Dad and I haven’t moved. I’m snuggled up to his side and feeling happy to be here with him. It took me a little time to relax, but I love having him here. It feels so good to have my dad back.
“I had no idea they could track your phone like that with cell towers.”
Turns out, Dad’s really into crimes of passion like me. It’s funny, because usually he would be watching game tape from the game on Friday. Especially after the loss to the Royals.
“James? Mila?”
“Kate’s here,” Dad says. “And hopefully has the pasta and garlic bread with her.”
My tummy rumbles at the thought of the food I requested for tonight. The hospital meals weren’t great at all…okay, the Jell-O was nice, but I’m craving pasta. She said she would get some for dinner tonight.
“We’re up here, watching how women kill their lovers,” I call out, and Dad’s brows raise at me. I chuckle; it hurts, but I don’t care.
“Don’t be giving her any ideas, Mila,” he jokes as I give him a side hug.
It’s gentle, but it hurts like a bitch. I think I’ve overused my body today. My ribs are a mess. The doctors said I was lucky I didn’t break any and puncture my lungs. I have two with hairline fractures, so I have to take it easy. It hurts to breathe, but I’ve figured out that lying more upright helps ease the pain.
“Your favorite person has arrived to save you.” Asher barrels into my room, his hair still wet from his shower after training. He’s wearing gray sweats and a black tee. “Hey, Coach Hart.” He turns to the laptop to see what we’ve been watching. “Shit, Mila, you’ve been torturing the old man with terrible Netflix.”
“Language, Asher.” Dad sighs as he gets off my bed and stands beside Asher.
Asher clamps his mouth shut. I let out some giggles before I groan silently to myself, not wanting to worry either of them with how much it hurts to laugh.
“Sorry, Coach, I won’t say the ‘o’ word again, I promise.” He does a cross sign over his chest with his finger, and I see my dad’s eye twitch. He’s trying not to laugh at Asher’s antics. It has Asher looking worried, and I hold my hand over my mouth so I don’t ruin the moment by laughing and groaning in pain.
“What’s the ‘o’ word—” I can see the wheels turning in Dad’s head as he works out what Asher means. “I’m not old. You can give me fifty push-ups for that, Asher.”
But you can hear the smile in Dad’s voice; he loves having Asher here. He loves Kate, and it’s obvious how much Asher respects Dad as he drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups without question. I crane my neck to see him on the floor.
“One, two, three…”
“And, Asher, stop calling me Coach at home. I’ve told you to call me James.”
Dad winks at me as he leaves the room and I smile down at Asher. I watch as his muscles bulge and tense. Fuck…my dad loves his mom, and we’re friends. He’s maybe my future stepbrother. I can’t look at him like that.
“You don’t actually have to do them. Dad’s just joking.”
Asher wiggles his brows at me as he continues counting and doing push-ups, looking at me every time he comes up.
He pauses. “I know that”—then continues—“but the drool”—down, then up—“on your chin, Mila”—down and up again—“says otherwise.”
I wipe my chin. Drool? He laughs and tumbles to the floor, holding his belly.
“Ugh, you wish.” I grab the smaller pink pillow and throw it at him, grunting at the pain. It’s a soft throw; I don’t have the strength for a harder one.
He catches it and lies gently beside me in Dad’s empty spot. It makes me smile that he knows not to jump on my bed, like he has every other time. My body presses up against him, and I feel his warmth. It’s nice.
“Let’s watch something better than this.” He pulls the under-bed table closer and taps on my laptop, starting to scroll through Netflix.
“Do you have any suggestions?” I ask as I move to sit a little higher to help ease my ribs a little.
“Porn?”
My mouth drops open as I stare at him. Dad could have heard him. No words come out. I don’t have a comeback for that. That threw me for a loop.
“No, you’re right. I’m all the porn you need. Arm porn, chest porn…” He sits up and pulls his tee off and lies back down. He flexes his arms, and I watch as he runs his hand down his chest and abs. Ugh…why does he have to be so flirty and off-limits? I glance away because I don’t need to look at him like this.
“Fucker.”
“Mila, here’s your— Eww, put your top on, Asher.” Madison scrunches her nose at the door while holding a bowl of pasta for me.
“Yeah, eww Asher.” I fake the same distaste as Madison, only hers is real.
Asher’s cocky grin slips a little, and I can’t wipe the grin from my face.
“Lies…All lies.” He shakes his head, and I catch him wink at me.
This is the best way to spend the night.
