Paper Hearts

26

|| Victoria ||

I opened my eyes to find myself in a hospital room, lying in a bed, my muscles sore and head throbbing. I was under a blanket, at once my vision cleared, I noticed the rickety bed and colorful walls adorned with pictures of animals and nature scenery. When I lifted my head slightly from the pillows, pain shot through my neck, and I laid back once more quickly, gritting my teeth.

"Are you okay?"

I stiffened at the sound of my father's voice, and inched my gaze over to the bedside, where I saw him sitting in a plastic chair, looking exhausted, an undone bowtie around his neck.

"I'm fine, Dad," I said, with a small smile.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed, looking on the verge of tears. "When that kid called, I had no idea where you were, or what had happened—"

"That kid?" I asked, pinching my eyes shut. "Luke—Luke called you?"

"Me, his parents, and Rachael."

Rachael? Luke called Rachael?

I released a breath, my throat tightening as I asked,

"Is Luke okay, then? He—he's not hurt?"

"Hardly. And neither are you. Doc says you've got a minor concussion and a few bruised ribs, but that's all. You two—you got lucky."

I released a breath, but it hurt to do so, and I grit my teeth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad stand up.

"The kid's been asking to see you for hours now. You wouldn't mind if I let him in, right?"

"No, of course not."

He nodded once, his brisk fast and business-like, and I just managed to speak before he exited.

"Dad," I said, and I saw him freeze, not even turning to look at me.

I cleared my throat, my heart racing, mustering up the courage to ask a question that I didn't necessarily want the answer to.

But I asked nonetheless.

"What does this mean for us? For Florida, and the wedding?"

He shook his head, inhaling deeply.

"I don't know yet, Vicki. We'll have to figure that out after you get some rest and recover, okay? Don't stress yourself out too much."

It was hard not to when the clock was ticking, but I nodded anyways, and Dad left.

Only a few seconds passed before I heard the door open again, and in walked Luke Callaway himself, sitting at the foot of my bed and running his hands through his hair, bringing his bloodshot eyes up to mine with reluctance.

"You look like hell." I said, a smile creeping up on my features in spite of myself.

His voice was shaking as he replied, "Yeah, well, you're not looking so great yourself, Hemmings."

I laughed weakly, hoping that the pain in my chest didn't show on my face, watching him in silence and wondering what was going on in his mind.

"Luke," I said, softly, and he looked up again, his eyes weighed down with a million emotions I couldn't decipher, no matter how hard I tried.

"Yeah?"

"Are...are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, his voice catching. "I'm fine—but you aren't. I...I got you in a car crash, Victoria. I'm the reason you're in this goddamn hospital."

"No, you're not." I said, as firmly as I could. "That wasn't your fault, and you're stupider than I thought if you blame yourself for it. I'm fine, Luke, there's no harm done. I'm fine."

He sighed, averting his gaze again.

"God, Hemmings, I thought I'd lost you. The car flipped, and I heard you scream, and then you went quiet. The police and ambulances came and they took you away and suddenly I was driving with them and we were here and now—"

"Now what?" I pressed. "I'm fine, Luke, and whatever happened was not your fault."

"It was my car." He retorted, biting his lip. "It was my car, and I was the driver, and you were the one to get hurt. How the hell is that not my fault?"

"Oh, my God," I said, through a disbelieving laugh, "Are you serious? Are you being serious right now?"

"Of course I am," he said quietly. "I didn't—I couldn't—"

He paused, flustered, and shook his head as he slowly rose from my bed.

"I'm sorry, Victoria. I'm not going to fight with you; not when you're like this. Please just rest."

"Luke, we're not fighting—"

"Maybe not, but I can't deal with this right now, and neither can you. I'm sorry that I got you in this situation, and I hope you feel better soon, and I'm just outside if you need me."

With that, he started to leave, but the emotion that I had shoved down for so long came rising up in my chest, and before I knew it, my hand shot out to clasp his, and he stopped, turning to face me, steel-blue gaze intense against my own.

"Luke." I said, my voice a broken, pathetic whisper. "Please. Stay."

Something flashed in his eyes, but there were tears welling in mine, so everything blurred and swayed in and out of shape, and my breathing grew ragged in my chest.

"Okay," he murmured, kneeling down beside my bedside, my hand clutching so tightly to his that my knuckles turned white. "Okay, Victoria, I'm here. I'm staying."

The panic slowly draining from me, I loosened my grip, lying against the pillows once more, releasing a long, shuddering breath.

"Thank you," I whispered, shutting my eyes tight. "Thank you."

"Shh," he urged, and I heard the break in his voice as his free hand moved to my forehead, fingers carefully brushing away loose wisps of hair. "It's okay, Victoria. It's okay."

And as I heard him repeat it, that whispered sentence, a wild, forbidden thought ran through my mind.

I love you.