Page 146 of Dock

I damn sure don’t remember shit about what put me in here; however, she said severe blood loss, so I’m guessing super scary shit.

“Yeah…” Lady tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly uncomfortable, “Med dude said that could happen and would be totally normal between the concussion-”

“Concussion?!”

“And hypovolemic shock-”

“Hypo…what now?!”

“And typical trauma response to a near death experience.”

Near. Death.

That’s why Gam Gam said it wasn’t time yet.

Her emphasis was on near.

“Like I said,” she confidently continues, “you clearly can handle yourself. You’re a fighter, which is what all Misfit women are.”

Wow.

I don’t think I’ve ever referred to myself that way before nor has anyone else.

At least not in the past.

Maybe this fight, this moment is the one that shifts me into that person I secretly wished I’d become brave enough to actually be.

Maybe this is how and why I become her.

“Just like the men,” H surprisingly interjects from the doorway, juice and snacks in hand. “Misfits always protect what’s theirs no matter how much blood has to be shed.”

Gah….the way he says that is oddly romantic.

“And now that yours has returned,” Lady practically leaps out of her seat, “I’m gonna head to mine.”

“He’s still got the needle in his arm, but he’s almost done,” the exhausted younger man I had no doubt would find me informs. “And he’s gonna be pissed I took the last bag of pretzels.”

“No…” she slyly removes them from his arms, “he’s gonna be pissed I took the last bag of pretzels.”

One sassy wink is the transition for her exit and the one for his entrance.

Seeing him in dark board shorts, a bright blue t-shirt, flip flops, and his leather cut is a visual that’s hard to ignore.

How it makes no sense but perfect sense that echoes the essence of him.

Us.

Assuming there still is an us.

That we can find a way to make our very different lives work.

Particularly one that doesn’t involve me getting kidnapped or hospitalized again.

“Found your spare glasses in your uh…mirror thing…” H starts when he arrives bedside. “The shit you were dancing in front of that morning we spent together at your place.” He nervously slides into the seat Lady was just occupying, still clutching his refreshments. “Noodle helped.” A smile tries to cross his expression. “I mean…I think he tried to. I also think he was yelling at me for not bringing you home yet.”

Warmth seeps into my complexion.

“I fed him,” the man of my dreams rushes to reassure. “I feed him.” Frustration forces him to frown further encouraging me to beam. “I have been feeding him every day since you’ve been here.” There isn’t time to investigate the length of time. “It’s been a long four days.” Sadness sinks his shoulders. “Thank fuck, it wasn’t five.”