The Effects of Falling (The Weight of Rain Duet Book 2) (8 page)

His smile becomes broader, drawing a road map of creases across his face, ones much deeper than those I noticed on Kash’s face just yesterday. “This is only a hiccup. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Especially after facing Disney World alone with an eleven-year-old, right?”

The smile slips from his face faster than it appeared. “We didn’t make it to see Harry Potter at Universal Studios though. She’s acting like she doesn’t care, but you know she does. Mercedes is like her mother, she’s loved the possibility of magic. I think a small part of Arianna’s heart forever wondered if there really was truth in some of the old myths and legends that she liked to watch and read about.”

It’s not as painful to hear Robert reminisce about his daughter as it is when I know Kash is silently doing so, and I’m grateful for that fact. The only guilt that pangs me is wondering if my own father would have felt the same if I had grown up with him.

“We can take her.” The words fall from my mouth before the reality hits.

I hate crowds. I hate crowds more than I hate the idea of going through a fake wizarding world.

Robert’s brow furrows, before an awkward and tight expression covers his face. “You’re … going to take her to see … Harry Potter…?”

I purse my lips and drop a leveling gaze to express my lack of amusement. “Don’t look at me like that. It hurts that you’re shocked. Give me a little credit.”

“I don’t mean to be so surprised. I know you’d give her your kidney if it were ever needed, but…” his stare moves to the wall beyond me, “…this might be bigger than a kidney. It’s Universal Studios.”

I huff, losing any patience that was left from traveling and the stresses of seeing him in this situation and what has been going on between Kash and me. “I’ll bring you lots of photographic evidence of how great of a time we have, while you’re here sipping your Jell-O cups down, old man.”

“I don’t know. This might be better than a theme park.” His grin widens. “Have you seen my nurse, yet?”

“Want me to tell her you’re having chest pains again? See if she’ll spend extra time in here, monitoring you?”

His eyes light up with laughter as they dance over my face. “You would make me sound like a decrepit old man, wouldn’t you?”

“Better than making you sound like a perv.”

He laughs his agreement and then turns nearly somber once again. “I’m real sorry you had to cut your trip short to come out here. I’m glad they were able to catch this so quickly, but I still can’t believe my ol’ ticker gave up on me, especially here.”

“Your heart didn’t give up on you, Robert. You can’t say stupid stuff like that. And stop apologizing for having a heart attack. No one cares about anything, except that you’re well. A hiccup, remember?”

“I am. I’m going to be just fine.”

“You’d better be,” I warn, bringing the faint outline of a smile to cross his lips again.

“You have my word.”

“So, three days, huh?” I ask, finally acknowledging the numerous machines in his room that are attached to him in one way or another.

“That’s what they’re hoping for.”

“You can do it.”

“I’ve been through a whole hell of a lot worse. I have no doubt this will be a cakewalk in comparison.”

Compared to his loss of Arianna or living with that loss every day?
I don’t ask, knowing the answer is likely both.

“Anything good on TV?” I ask, leaning closer to his side as I look at the screen Mercedes was watching when we came in.

“It’s the middle of the day. There’s only shit on at this time.”

“Maybe they have a movie channel.”

“They don’t,” Mercedes says, reappearing with Lo behind her, a small paper sack clutched to her side with an elbow.

“That was too fast of a trip to sneak me in something good.” Robert also eyes the bag with curiosity.

“We asked,” Mercedes says as she unceremoniously plops beside Robert. Her ease with him is clear as she kicks her feet up. It’s apparent she won’t accept considering him in a fragile state even though he cringes from her pulling on his IV tube. “You can’t eat anything other than what the hospital gives you until you meet with a nutritionist and have been released.”

“Discharged,” Lo corrects.

But Mercedes doesn’t turn to her; she simply grabs the remote and flips through several channels.

“
T
HREE DAYS?”
LO
whispers from the other side of Mercedes.

King made us reservations at a hotel close to the hospital where they only had king sized-beds available. He reserved two adjoining rooms, but Mercedes was reluctant to make a decision on who she would stay with, so we are all in one bed with her passed out in the middle.

I’m relieved to hear the shock in Lo’s voice. I’ve never watched Mercedes for so long by myself. If we were at home, I could take her riding, we could binge on Netflix, or we could maybe take a trip to the beach or something.

“Did I mention we’re going to Universal Studios once we hear everything’s okay with Robert’s surgery?”

Propping herself up on an elbow, she peers over at me. “We are?”

“I thought we’d surprise Mercedes.”

“You think she’ll be okay with being away from the hospital for a full day?”

I didn’t even consider that, only thinking about how much I didn’t want her to endure time at the hospital any longer.

“Robert wants us to.” I know this without a doubt. Still, as seconds tick by, I question if I made the right decision. “Do you think we shouldn’t go?” I ask quietly. Rarely do I ask for an opinion from someone other than Kash, but more and more, I’ve found myself seeking Lo’s.

“No, I think you’re right. We’ll be there tomorrow and she can see him once he’s out of surgery to ensure everything went smoothly, and then we can celebrate while he rests.”

“And hits on the nurses.”

“Ew! Stop!” Lo whispers, her voice pitched.

“What are you? Five? He doesn’t have cooties.”

Lo shakes her head. “I like to think of him as being completely platonic with everyone he meets.”

“Mercedes is right. You are weird.”

“You’re wearing Kash’s underwear, and I’m the weird one?” Lo accuses too loudly.

“I’m not wearing Kash’s underwear,” I hiss.

“Those aren’t shorts. I totally saw the gape in your crotch when you bent over. I’m glad you wear underwear with those.”

“Don’t get shy on me now, Crosby. I’ve already shown you my goods.”

She laughs. “Were you able to reach Kash?”

I’d prefer to focus on my boxers again. Anytime someone learns I like to sleep in them, they always ask why. I’d choose to discuss nearly anything rather than consider why I couldn’t reach Kash earlier. He had messaged me shortly after the nurse came in and discussed the details of the surgery and the schedule for tomorrow, and once I relayed the information to him, he vanished.

“No. Could you reach King?”

“No. I think they must have gone up to the other cabin, and lost reception.”

Mercedes breathes a loud sigh and rolls over, silencing us both for several minutes.

“Likely,” I agree once Mercedes’ heavy breaths fill the air again. “Kenzie called though, while you were talking to Charleigh. That was nice of you to reach out to her. You’re kind of a class act, Lauren Crosby.”

“I try.” She’s lying; she totally is.

“How’s Charleigh, by the way?” I don’t know Lo’s British roommate well, but stories of her, and their third roommate, Allie, often make for a good laugh.

“Good. She was calling to see how we were doing. She sends her love by the way. How did Kenzie take the news?”

“You know Kenzie,” I say with a shrug.

She does. Lo was roommates with Kash and King’s little sister all of last year and knows how she often forgets that the world doesn’t revolve around her.

The thought leaves me wondering what it would be like to have a roommate myself. I’ve never lived with another person since moving out of my Uncle Toby’s. I don’t mind either of Lo’s roommates, Charleigh and Allie, but they tend to get too giggly, finish each other’s sentences, and constantly reference inside jokes. The combination becomes too much really fast. But, I think I could live with Lo because she is rarely that way. Instead, she generally reverts to sarcasm and staring at canvases that she’s working on—but I prefer living alone where I don’t have to worry about what anyone else wants or thinks. It’s easier that way.

“Can I ask you a really inappropriate question?”

My attention moves to Lo’s dark silhouette.

“This would be way more fun tomorrow when I can actually see you. If it’s
really
inappropriate, I’m betting you’re already red.”

“How long have you liked Kash?” Lo asks, ignoring my comment.

I release a long breath as I recall Kash first walking into the shop my uncle owned. His frame was narrower, his eyes a bit hardened from the recent loss of his fiancé, and his gait was different—more arrogant, far less casual than it is now.

“Eleven years.”

“And you guys have never talked about it? Never acted on it?”

“Are you asking if we have had sex and haven’t told anyone?”

Most people assume Kash and I have slept together. Some believe we do on a consistent basis. Normally, I make no attempt to change their beliefs. But the way Lo looks at me with her eyelids mostly closed in focus tells me she already knows we haven’t and don’t.

“You guys are so good together. I can’t imagine it’s easy to be around someone and care so much for them without doing anything.”

“You mean, like you did last year?”

“Yeah, but King and I fought constantly. You and Kash are completely civil. There’s just this underlying tension.”

I know what she’s referencing. It’s the debate of whether or not I take his elbow while we walk. If I should buy the snack I know he loves when I’m at the grocery store. The fact that I turn up nearly every song I hear about crushing on a guy because I feel like it’s the anthem of my heart spoken in lyrics. Should I be relieved that others have noticed or feel embarrassed because it’s so obvious?

“How long has it been since you’ve slept with someone?” Lo’s question crashes through my thoughts, like my accident did: I have only enough time to realize how badly it’s going to hurt.

“You aren’t seriously asking me that, are you?”

“You’re the one who insisted I drink a second glass of wine. I’m feeling slightly buzzed with bravery. Otherwise, I’d be afraid you’d punch me.” She laughs, and it sounds closer to a giggle. “You wouldn’t actually punch me, would you? I once thought you would, but after the time that guy rear-ended you and was acting like a complete and total asshole and you didn’t punch him, I figured you’re more of the completely-cut-people-off type.”

“Completely cut people off?”

“You know what I mean. If someone wrongs you for a valid reason, I can picture you holding one hell of a grudge.”

“Like not speaking to my mother for fifteen years?”

Even in the darkness of our room, I can see her eyes widen with surprise.

“Fifteen years?” she asks in a whisper.

“I figure, if someone isn’t deserving of you expending the energy, why continue to waste it?”

“Are you afraid you’ll feel like you’re wasting your energy on Kash if you guys don’t eventually act on things?”

“What things?”

“Can you hear my eyes rolling? Seriously, don’t be a pain in the ass. This is what sleepovers are all about—stripping the secrets of our souls.”

“Who in the hell did you do sleepovers with growing up? You sound like a Hallmark infomercial. Sleepovers are for streaking and breaking into liquor cabinets. Putting your friend’s underwear in the freezer, and these days, you post embarrassing pictures and lies about them on social media once they’ve fallen asleep.”

“Do we have a freezer in here?” Lo asks, sitting up a bit more.

“Scared?”

“Just considering what all I need to hide from you over the next three days.”

I laugh too loudly, causing Mercedes to stir again before nuzzling farther into my side.

“So, really, how long has it been?”

“I liked it better when you were afraid that I’d punch you.”