Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Name a problem, they’ll fix it. Drug addiction, sex addiction, eating disorders, grief, stress. Hell, you can probably check in for a disease you just made up in your sleep and they’ll treat it. It’s what he needs.”
I felt…relieved, I think. Also, scared. And guilty, like I was palming him off on someone else. “Do you think he’ll go?” I asked.
Drew blew into the air, his jaw angled like an angry father. “He’ll go.”
We stood in silence after that, all three of us. Waiting. Wondering. Drew and I exchanged silent apologies for snapping at each other by the pool earlier, through a simple, acknowledging nod. The fact he’d kissed Hugo didn’t matter anymore. Maybe it would later, or maybe I’d accept it for what it was. A mistake from a drunken idiot.
Around an hour later, when a nurse entered and told me I, and I alone, could go and see Hugo, I’d never been more ready and less prepared to see someone in my whole life.
Walking slowly, I made my way up to the private area of the hospital with what felt like a mouth full of cottonwool. I couldn’t moisten my lips, couldn’t swallow to rid the taste of bile scratching my throat. The change was instant as I stepped off the lift onto the private floor, like I’d been teleported to a different hospital. Gone was the freckled green vinyl floor and in its place was wood-effect laminate. There were decorative tables along the corridors, topped with vases of fake flowers. Patients here, clearly, wanted to feel like they’d paid.
We stopped outside a room with a wide wooden door and a small window with blinds closed from the other side. “He’s in here,” the nurse said. I didn’t need to look at her to know what shape her mouth made. “He’s expecting you. Go in whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” I watched her walk away. I kept watching even when she’d disappeared around a corner.
Whenever you’re ready. How was I supposed to know what ready felt like? Usually, being ready to see Hugo meant experiencing the tickling sensation of butterflies in my belly. It meant hearing my pulse in my ears, feeling a tug in my heart. I’d never felt lightheaded. Nauseous. Afraid. Guilty…
I remembered a trick Hugo had told me about back in high school. He’d called it the ‘one, two, three, do it!’ technique and learned it during one of his first attempts at therapy. The idea was, when faced with something you didn’t want to, or felt you couldn’t, do, you had to close your eyes, breathe slowly to the count of three, block everything out and do it, force your body to move before your mind could take over and talk you out of it.
Right now, it seemed like the only thing that might get me to the other side of that door, so, I curled my fingers around the handle…and closed my eyes.
One…
Two…
Three…
Do it, do it, do it…. When I opened my eyes, I was through the door. Shit. It’d worked. There he was. Hugo. My Hugo. He lay in a bed fancier than the ones downstairs, but still on wheels for emergency getaways, and smiled weakly when he saw me. I tilted my head, bottom lip wobbling, and just…loved him. I knew the second our eyes met that that was all I had to do. Love him. The fear had melted somewhere between here and the corridor outside.
Without a word, Hugo’s arm extended, revealing space on the wider-than-usual hospital mattress. Closing the door, I kicked my shoes off to the side, walked over and climbed in beside him. There it is… The thrum in my ears, the butterflies. The contact as I draped my arm over his waist put everything back together, sealed the shattered pieces in my chest. “Guess what I’m thinking,” I whispered against his heart, nestling close, yet gentle, careful to avoid the bruises caused by the heels of Drew’s hands.
He held onto me, arm over my ribs, squeezed gently. “Tell me.”
That wasn’t how we played, though maybe he hadn’t been as successful as I had in leaving the fear on the other side of the door. “Every C in Pacific Ocean is pronounced differently.”
I felt a rumble of laughter beneath my cheek. Slight, but there. “Instagram?”
“Pinterest,” I admitted, smiling into his skin. God, I loved his skin, how warm it was, how smooth against mine. Soothing. I couldn’t lose it. “What the fuck were you thinking, Hugo?” I hadn’t planned to say it and I didn’t know if it was the worst thing a person could say to someone so clearly vulnerable…but I didn’t regret it. I needed to know.
A kiss landed on top of my head. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of my hair, which I imagined wasn’t too pleasant. “It hurts, Heli. All the time. Being here it…it just hurts.”