Brazing (Forged in Fire #2) (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Tate

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

In those first moments of consciousness, I was disoriented. I knew I couldn’t be in my own bed or even back at my parents. But if not there… then where?

And that’s when the steady, high-pitched beeping poked through my remaining drowsiness. I groaned.

The traumatic events of last night and this morning slowly infiltrated my memories and I covered my face with my hands. I let out a long groan of frustration, remembering who I’d called to get me here.

Damn it, I was so very over this thing.

And the last person I wanted to drag into my whole medical tragedy was Bridger.

Like seriously, the
very last person
.

But I couldn’t get ahold of Carter. She must have gone home with one of those preppy cowboys and by the time I realized I couldn’t avoid the trip to the hospital, none of my other emergency contacts answered either. My parents lived in Ohio. Otherwise I would have called them.

They had been livid when I told them I wanted to leave home for school. They couldn’t help me out financially anyway, not with all the medical bills they were already paying. And since I had to pay for it all by myself, I decided they didn’t have a final say. Still, I knew they wanted me to stay close to home because they were worried about me. Even though, I’d been in remission before I left.

I’d wanted to be close to my grandparents. And if I were honest, I’d wanted to get away from mom and dad. They meant well, and I knew they loved me more than anything, but they could be a little… parental. Through junior high, I’d dealt with their constant hovering while I tried to ruin my life. And then as soon as I got my life together, sickness had hit me and they hovered even worse. I wanted some freedom. I
needed
some freedom.

Not that their concerns weren’t completely warranted, especially after what I’d been through in the last two months. But this wouldn’t last forever. I knew that. I needed this breathing room.

I spread my fingers and peeked through them. Bridger sat in the hospital-style rocking chair recliner ten feet away. He’d nodded off and his chin rested on his shoulder. His arms were folded across his chest and his eyebrows were scrunched together. Even in his sleep, he looked grumpy.

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. He couldn’t be more adorable and I was a little disturbed by how much his boyish charm got me all hot right now.

I watched him for a few minutes as I devised my plan. Bridger clearly had something going on in his personal life and I didn’t want to add to that. I would do anything to take back my desperate call in the week hours of the morning.

Plus, we were having some difficulty just being friends again. I didn’t want a friendship out of pity or good will. I wanted Bridger to be my friend because he wanted to be. I wanted him to drag his ass to karaoke because he wanted to, even if he was reluctant. I didn’t want him to start showing up places because he was afraid I would die if he didn’t.

Like literally die.

Because I wasn’t going to. But obviously Bridger wasn’t a glass-half-full kind of guy and if I started explaining my symptoms and condition and treatment… he might freak out.

And the alternative… that he cared about me so little that it wouldn’t bother him at all… well that was worse. So much worse.

The nurse came in with a fierce expression on her face and I knew I was in for it. In fact, I could already hear the start of her thirty-minute lecture.

Cary and I went way back, since my freshman year. She was the nurse I had during my first check-up here, and she’d been so completely awesome that I’d asked for her during the second six-month check-up second semester of my freshman year. During the third, just two months ago, when my test results didn’t come back like we’d all hoped they would, she’d been there to hold my hand. And she’s been playing surrogate mother for me ever since.

I loved this lady.

I did.

But she was about to unknowingly fill Bridger in on every bit of the part of my life I wanted to keep quiet for now.

I couldn’t let that happen.

So I made myself meet her angry blue eyes and I molded my expression into my own stern don’t-mess-with-me face and put one finger to my lips.

She raised her eyebrows at me like, “Say what?”

And I was all, “Shh!”

Only we had that conversation silently.

I gestured at Bridger and then dragged my pointer finger across my throat.

Her eyebrows shot even higher into her graying blonde hair and she gave me a “WTF?” expression.

I let out a giggle.

“Not a word,” I mouthed.

“Girl,” she shot back. “You are sick!”

“I know that!” My hands moved wildly around me.

“I know you know that!” At least she could keep our conversation soundless. Bless her. But her hands and body moved as much as mine did. We looked like mimes on meth. “Who is he? He’s hot, Tate!”

I snorted and then we both fell into silent giggles.

“No one,” I mouthed.

She pursed her lips and waved her hand around. She was so not buying that.

“I don’t want him to know,” I told her instead.

She jabbed a hand at him. The gesture was obvious. How was it possible to keep it a secret now? He’d brought me to the hospital. Obviously, he knew something was going on.

“Tate!” she silently screamed at me.

“Don’t!”

“Girl!”

“Cary!” I pointed two weak fingers at her as sternly as I could.

And that’s how Bridger woke up to us.

He cleared his throat and we both looked over at him with guilty expressions on our faces. Then we both cut our eyes back to each other with a silent warning.

Then we both started giggling again.

“How are you doing?” Bridger asked, wisely ignoring our silent antics.

“Good,” I answered too quickly. I tried to sound positive, but my voice was overly bright. I tried to sit up and show him I was fine, but my body collapsed back on the pillow. Damn it, the third day was the
worst
. I rubbed my hand over the permanent port in my chest that made my treatments so much easier. You couldn’t see it, but I could feel the hardness of it beneath my skin.

“Good?” Bridger did not look convinced.

I didn’t exactly blame him.

“Oh, this?” I gestured at my thin hospital gown and then grabbed for the sheets to hike them up to my chin. “This is nothing. Just a bit of food poisoning.” I glanced down at my arms and noticed a rash for the first time. It covered every inch of skin I could see and mostly likely kept going to the places I couldn’t see.
Damn!
Where did that come from?

“Food poisoning?” He looked even less like he believed me. He shifted on his seat and leaned forward. His eyes flashed to Cary and demanded the answers he foolishly thought she would give to him.

That girl was on my side.

“Mmm-hmm,” Cary warbled.

Okay, maybe she was on my side, but clearly she was terrible at playing it cool.

She started checking my vitals, and I got the impression it was mainly in an effort to escape Bridger’s suspicious gaze. His eyes burned from across the room, and I knew,
I just knew
, he was ready to move heaven and earth to make sure I felt better.

A small part of me crumbled and then melted into goo because of that.

Bridger wasn’t just the gentleman type. Or the kind you took home to your mom. Bridger was the White Knight kind of man. He didn’t just fight battles for you, he conquered, destroyed and smote the enemy to the ground.

Despite the whole surly, pissed-off-at-the-world thing he had going on, there was a really great guy hidden inside him. Or at least from what I remembered of him.

“You got food poisoning?” Bridger asked slowly.

“Yep.” His green eyes narrowed on me, and then flicked up to Cary, who happened to add my next dose of anti-nausea medication to my IV at just that moment. “
Really
bad food-poisoning.”

“Are you sure, Tate? Because you were nearly passed out when I found you this morning. I don’t think food poisoning-”

“I have Celiacs!” Shit! Why did I say that! I panicked. That’s why.
But shit!
I didn’t really know what Celiac Disease even was! I mean, a gluten intolerance, sure. But what did that mean? Was it more than just not eating bread? Shit again! Now I was going to have to give up bread! “I accidentally ate gluten last night. My body was not happy with me.” Understatement of the year. Try, my body wanted to murder me. Was
trying
to murder me.

Plus, I loved bread.

Why did I say that? Why did I lie?

“Oh,” Bridger replied. He settled back in his chair and seemed to accept my answer. “So that was an allergic reaction of sorts?”

I cleared my throat and committed to this stupid lie. “Yeah. An allergic reaction.”

He looked at Cary again. She kept her back to him while she tried to stare me down. I ignored her completely. She could yell at me later.

“So does that happen often, because everyone seemed to know who you were when we got here last night.”

“It does. I, uh, I have a hard time paying attention to my diet.” Well, that part was true at least. I really didn’t pay attention to what I ate. And maybe that would catch up with me someday, or maybe I wouldn’t live long enough for it to matter. The important thing was… I loved junk food.

So.

Yep.

Bridger still looked skeptical, but I didn’t think he knew what other questions to ask. And it wasn’t like I was going to offer him any answers. I smiled at him.

“Okay, I’m done with you for now,” Cary announced. She put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed as hard as she could. “By the way,” she gestured at my splotchy body, “that’s from alcohol. Did you drink last night?”

I nodded meekly.

Her glare turned fierce. “I know you were warned about what would happen if you mixed alcohol with-”

“Never again!” I threw my hands up in surrender before she said something else. “I’m sober from this day forward. I promise.”

“Good.”

I bit back a wince and tried to glare at her discreetly. “When can I leave?”

“The doctor wants to see you before you go. And she’ll want to run some… She’ll want to make sure all your levels… She’ll want to go through the usual routine with you.”

I was too annoyed with having to see Dr. Masters later to really care about all Cary’s sentence detours. And I couldn’t help but be proud of her creativity. Still, it was late Saturday afternoon. Dr. Masters wouldn’t be back to the hospital until tomorrow morning. I really didn’t want to stay overnight.

Thankfully, my deductible had already been maxed for this year. It didn’t cover ambulance costs, but this visit would be paid for.

So, really, I didn’t have a reason to demand to leave. I knew Dr. Masters wouldn’t make me stay unless she thought more observation was necessary. And I knew without a doubt, Cary would have fought for my release if she didn’t think I needed to stay.

“So not until tomorrow?” I asked. There was always a small possibility Dr. Masters was already at the hospital, then she might stop by today yet.

Cary nodded. It had been a miniscule chance. I hadn’t really expected to leave before then.

“But she ordered everything before she left this morning. You’ll be good to go as soon as she checks you out.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I would make Monday morning classes then. I had been saving my absences for when treatment got really intense and scheduled each round on Thursday afternoon, so I could go through the bulk of my misery on Saturday and Sunday and then look like crap on Monday, along with the rest of the student body.

Cary finished up and patted me affectionately before saying, “I’ll be back with some Jell-O.”

Jell-O was my absolute fave. It didn’t matter how often I had it or if the hospital only carried cherry and orange. I loved it. 

“Are you really okay, Tate?” Bridger watched the door where Cary had exited, but his low tone made me certain this moment with him would stay with us for a long time.

I waited until his gaze drifted back to me. It took a while. I could tell he didn’t want to face me. And who could blame him? I knew I looked like one hot mess. My red hair fell in limp, frizzy strands all around my face and the hospital gown did nothing to show off my figure. It was like the anti-flattering outfit.

When we finally locked gazes again, my stomach clenched tightly at the look on his face. He seemed… frightened. And my heart about broke into a hundred-thousand pieces. His jaw ticked with his nervousness and his hands clenched the armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white.

I thought back to what I’d heard about his parents. They’d died in an accident. A fire maybe? Had they suffered before they died? Had they been laid up in the hospital for days on end?