You and Everything After (Falling #2)(89)

My dad pulls up front and drops me off with Ty so we don’t have to travel far while he parks. I sign in and say hello to the nurse working at the station. Her name is Heather, and I remember her without having to check her tag.

“Come on back, Cass. Dr. Peeples sent your files over. It’s a slow time, so might as well get this over with, huh?” I always liked Heather. She was newly engaged the last time I went through this therapy. I see now that she has a band next to the engagement ring, and her belly looks about seven months pregnant.

“This is new,” I say, looking down, and she laughs lightly, rubbing her hand over her large belly.

“Yeah, and I’m about ready to be done with this part,” she says, turning her focus back to my file. “I’ll have this ready to go in about ten minutes,” she says, giving my shoulder a squeeze before she leaves the room to get my dosage. It’s amazing how much of this I remember. It’s like riding a bike, though nothing at all like riding a bike, I muse to myself.

“Wow, you’re like famous here. I bet they have a picture of you. No! A shrine,” Ty says, moving to face me and bumping me with his knees. He can’t feel our touch, but I can.

“You must have missed the sign. We’re sitting in the Cassidy Owens wing,” I say.

“No shit!” Ty says, reaching for my hands. His watch slides forward out of my sweatshirt when I reach to grip him, and he flips his eyes to mine when he notices. No words, just a tender smile, his eyes saying everything that needs to be said.

“Okay, let’s get you hooked up,” Heather says as she comes back into the room with my drip bag ready to hang and a needle ready to pierce my vein.

“Do you mind waiting for my dad in the hall, just so he knows what room I’m in?” I ask Ty while Heather connects the various tubes and begins prepping the IV for my arm.

“You got it, babe,” he says, and I scowl at him for the babe part. “Too late, you’ve already given me babe permission. No going back.”

“Uhm, I’m pretty sure I only okayed baby,” I say.

“You missed the fine print, babe. I get Baby, and ALL derivatives. It’s locked in,” he says, his voice fading as the door closes behind him.

“He’s new,” Heather says, a little gleam in her eye. She knows better than to tease me. She and I talked a lot when I went through this in high school. Teasing was always off the table, because well…boys were always off the table.

“He is,” I say back, unable to help the grin that spreads the width of my face—teeth show and everything.

“I like that boy. You did good, missy. Real good,” she says, nodding for me to turn and face the window. I’m a fainter. “Now this will only hurt for a second.”

Usually, Heather is a liar, because I normally feel the pinch and the burn for much longer than a second. But today, I don’t feel a thing. Too much love in the way to let the pain through.





Ty


I don’t really like hospitals. They remind me of physical therapy, of waking up in a hazy fog to a beeping sound in the ICU. They remind me of my mom’s face when I finally opened my eyes long enough to recognize her. My mom’s tears. Nate’s crying. My…crying.

I’m happier here in the hall. But I’ll go back in when I need to. When Cass’s father enters through the sliding doors, I hold a hand up to get his attention before he veers off to the nurse’s station. He came home late last night, and I snuck back to my own room early this morning before anyone was awake. He and I haven’t been alone once yet, and I haven’t really been looking forward to it. I was braver over the phone with him. Too brave, I fear. But I wouldn’t take any of it back.

“She’s just getting set up,” I say.

“Good, good,” he nods, looking through the small window-slot in the door, and then running his hand through his graying hair. He’s worried.

“She kept this to herself. Otherwise…I would have made her talk to someone. I promise you,” I say, because I still feel like maybe Cass’s parents hold me responsible for this. Maybe I am.

“You can’t make her do anything, Tyson,” he says, looking at his daughter through the door window and pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Yeah,” I laugh once. “You’re probably right.”

“You…you want a coffee or anything from the nurse’s station?” he asks me. “This usually takes about an hour.”

“No thanks. I’m good. But go ahead,” I respond.

He just shakes his head, letting his gaze drift off. “I’m good too,” he says. I move toward the door, but before I get too close, he halts me. “It’s nice to finally meet you…in person, by the way,” he says, extending his hand. His grip is firm, and maybe a little threatening—as a father’s should be.

“Thank you for letting me stay with you all. It was really nice to be able to come here from my brother’s tournament. I know it was sort of a last-minute thing, so…anyhow,” I say, suddenly aware that I’m sweating. And rambling. Yeah, I’m definitely braver over the phone. I haven’t had to talk to many fathers. Just Kelly’s. And he was my Little League coach, so…

“I wanted to tell you,” he says, his eyes on me at first, but then at his feet. He sucks in his lips to think, and his posture grows stronger. He’s a prosecutor, and from what Cass says, he’s damn good. I have the distinct feeling he’s about to deliver a closing argument meant just for me.