Five Feet Apart(36)

I’m alive. I made it.

“There’s my Sleeping Beauty,” she says, and I rub my eyes groggily. I know I just woke up, but I am exhausted.

“How do you feel?” my dad asks, and I respond with a sleepy groan, smiling at the both of them.

There’s a knock on the door and Julie pushes it open, coming in with a wheelchair to take me down to my room. And my bed. Thank goodness.

I swing my hand into the air, holding up my thumb hitchhiker style, and shout out, “Can I get a ride?”

Julie laughs, and my dad helps me get off the gurney and into the wheelchair. Whatever pain meds I’m on right now are strong. I can’t feel my face, let alone the pain from my G-tube.

“We’ll stop by later to check in on you!” my dad says, and I shoot them both a thumbs-up, freezing.

Wait.

We’ll.

We’ll stop by later to check in on you?

“Did I wake up in an alternate universe?” I grumble, rubbing my eyes and squinting at them.

My mom smiles and strokes my hair comfortingly as she looks over at my dad. “You’re our daughter, Stella. Always have been, always will be.”

These pain meds are strong.

I open my mouth to say something, but I’m too stunned and exhausted to string a sentence together. I just nod, my head swinging wildly up and down.

“Go get some sleep, sweetie,” my mom says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

Julie takes me down the hall and into the elevator. It’s almost impossible to keep my eyes open, my eyelids feeling heavier than a sack of potatoes.

“Phew, Jules, I am pooped,” I slur, shooting her a side eye and seeing her pregnant belly at eye level just over my shoulder.

The elevator doors open and she wheels me into my room, locking the tires on the wheelchair. “The skin and tube look much better. You’ll be up and around by this afternoon. No crunches, though.”

I struggle as she helps me stand slowly and get into bed, my legs and arms feeling like lead weights. She fixes my pillows and tucks me in gently, pulling the covers up over my body.

“You get to hold your own baby,” I say, sighing sleepily, sadly.

Julie meets my gaze. She sits down on the edge of my bed, letting out a long sigh. “I’m going to need help, Stella. It’s just me.” She smiles at me, her blue eyes warm. “Can’t think of anyone I would trust more.”

I reach out, trying to be as gentle as possible as my exhausted hand pats her stomach once, twice.

Nailed it.

I give her a big grin. “I’m going to be the best aunt ever.”

Aunt Stella. Me. An aunt? I slump down sleepily, the surgery and the pain meds finally overtaking me. She kisses me on the forehead and leaves, the door gently closing behind her. I sink into my pillow, curling up and pulling my panda closer. I look over at my side table, my eyes slowly clos— Wait! I sit up, grabbing a folded-paper box sitting there, tied with a red ribbon.

I pull the ribbon, and the box unfurls into a handmade, colorful, pop-up bouquet of flowers, the same purple lilacs and pink hydrangeas and white wildflowers as in Abby’s drawing suddenly brought to life.

Will.

I smile, putting it gently back down as I fumble around for my phone. I grab it, and it takes everything in me to focus on the screen as I scroll through to Will’s number. I hit dial, listening to it ring, my eyes closing as it goes to voice mail. I jump at the beep, my voice slurred when I start speaking. “It’s me! Stella. Don’t call me, okay? ’Cause I just had surgery and I’m so tired, but call me when you—get this. But no, don’t. Okay? ’Cause if I hear your sexy voice, I won’t be able to sleep. Yeah. So, call me, okay?”

I fumble with the phone, pressing the end button. I curl up, pulling my blankets closer to my body and grabbing my panda again. I’m still staring at the flowers when I finally drift off to sleep.

*

My phone starts chirping, pulling me out of my deep, postsurgery sleep. I roll over, my eyes less heavy as they open, and see that Poe is calling me on FaceTime. Fumbling with the screen, I finally press the green button, and his face appears.

“You’re alive!”

I grin, rubbing my eyes and sitting up. I’m still sleepy, but the drugs have worn off enough that my head doesn’t feel like a paperweight.

“Hey. I’m alive,” I say, my eyes widening as they land on the beautiful bouquet of flowers still on my side table. “The tube’s looking good.”

Will. I vaguely remember opening the bouquet.

I quickly double-check my text messages. Two from my mom. Three from Camila. One from Mya. Four from my dad. All checking in to see how I’m feeling.

There are none from Will.

My heart falls about twenty stories.

“Have you talked to Will?” I ask, frowning.

“Nope,” Poe says, shaking his head. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.

I take a deep breath, coughing, my side aching where the skin infection was. Ow. I stretch. The pain is definitely there. But manageable.

I have a message on Instagram, and I swipe to see that it’s a reply from Michael that I got while I was sleeping. He messaged me last night to see how Poe was doing, asking about his bronchitis. And—most surprisingly—if he was going to visit his parents in Colombia. I had no idea he was even considering it.