Only With You

05 | interstellar

05 | INTERSTELLAR

occurring or situated between stars.

☆

IT TOOK THIRTY AGONIZING minutes for the cops to take my statement. They wouldn't let me follow Ryan to the hospital until I described every last "perp" in detail, but it's a good thing those assholes were covered in tats, because I was able to describe them to a T. Even when I was shaking with worry. Ryan is a virtual stranger, but I feel horrible about this. Because I wasn't able to help him.

As soon as I get into the hospital, I fly down the brightly-lit halls and straight for the reception desk, only bump into none other than Caroline. She's wearing her aqua scrubs, and she frowns when she sees me, looking up from her clipboard.

"Aria? What are you doing here?"

"That bartender. Ryan. He's hurt. You know where he is?"

"Oh, shit, I thought that looked like him. Last name?"

"No idea."

"One sec." Caroline zips behind the counter and leans over the shoulder of another woman in scrubs. "Anne, can you check on the recent emerge patient? The bar fight guy."

I tap my foot and chew on my lip so much it peels the skin.

"Lévesque, Ryan?" Anne offers. "He was rushed in thirty minutes ago."

"That has to be him," I say.

"Room 104B."

"Thanks." I slap the counter once before I zip away.

I know my way around these halls well enough to direct myself past a vending machine and a set of elevators until I reach the B hall. Two women exit room 104, and I stop in my tracks. They both have matching umber skin, but one is short and older, while the other is tall and young with a cheetah print blouse. She's beautiful, and her sharp black bob reaches just above her gold earrings. Ex-girlfriend, maybe? Whatever, it doesn't matter. I zoom over to them, and they stare at me, wide-eyed.

"Is Ryan in there?" I ask, only just realizing how spazzy I must seem. Get a grip.

The younger woman nods, but scans me with confusion in her dark brown eyes. "Yes, Ryan's in there. He's okay. Are you the one who was with him?"

Jaw tense, I nod. This wasn't my fault, but guilt still rips me up.

"He'll be happy to see you then." The older woman smiles warmly. "He was worried when he came to."

"He shouldn't even be working at that stupid bar, Mom," the younger woman whispers.

"Oh, Nyla." Her mom wraps her arm around her shoulder, and they start walking down the hall. "Of course we don't like it, but we have to let him make his own decisions."

Is this the family he was talking about? The ones who baby him?

Taking a deep breath, I compose myself outside of Ryan's door. Once I'm good, I open it, and Ryan lies on a bed beneath white sheets. The entire right side of his face is swollen and blue, his eye sealed shut underneath a big bruise. Bloodied bandages stripe over his wounds. Still, he maintains his composure. And when he sees me, he gives me a lopsided smile.

"Are you okay?" I rush to his side, but stop at the bed and remind myself we're still strangers. "I was worried when you passed out."

He responds with a whole sentence in French, but the only word I recognize is something I think means hi. In Ontario, it's part of our curriculum to learn basic French Canadian in school, but I was never very good at school.