Life on the Level (13 page)

Guilt and anger make me speak before I can think better on it. “I’d rather wait for anyone but you.”

His face gets scrunched up and mean-looking. He runs off with the pail he’s carrying. Deep down, I know Taylor’s not someone I want to cross around here. No matter what brave face I want to put on.

Apollo goes crazy, neighing and bucking under me. I’ve let go of the reins, and now I can’t get them back.

“Easy,” I shout. “Whoa!”

But none of my words calm him down. Something’s spooked him. I grab a handful of mane to keep myself on his back, but that makes it worse. He rears his front legs high in the air. I hit the ground hard, on my back. My whole head rattles.

It takes three tries before I can breathe again, and two more before I can open my eyes.

My name is shouted from all different directions. Then I’m floating. I’m on a cloud.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Hutch whispers. “Please, River. Look at me.”

I shake my head, and instantly wish I’d kept myself still. “I can’t. There’s five of you.”

My head rolls to the side. The last thing I see is Taylor, standing at the fence with a great big smirk on his face.

“What. Is. That?” I hiss.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a male’s voice tells me.

I grab for my covers and try to pull them over my head, but they get snagged on my neck brace. “Can you close the drapes?”

“They are closed,” he says.

The pain in my mind is
crushing
. I’ve never felt pain like this before. A few seconds later, as I try to sit up, I realize that every inch of me is in pain. Muscles I didn’t even know I had are throbbing. I, River Thomas, whimper.

“Who the hell are you?” I mutter.

“I’m your nurse.”

“Hey, Nurseman,” I say, “get on with the painkillers.”

He shakes his head. His smile is youthful. I bet he’s younger than me. Fresh out of school. His cheeks are flushed, and his brown eyes are—I can’t look anymore. It’s too bright in here. My people assessment is going to have to wait.

“Sorry. We can’t give you anything for the pain.”

“Are you fucking with me? I fell off a horse!”

“And Debbie broke her foot trying to run away. You should’ve heard the things she called me.”

“What does she have to run away for? It’s not like she’s in prison.”

He doesn’t answer me, which tells me all I need to know. Some people, like me, are here voluntarily. But most of them are here because otherwise they’ll lose their kids of end up in jail.

“How long was I out?”

He checks some stuff off a clipboard, then comes to my besides and fluffs my pillows. Even the slightest shake of my bed sends needle prick into the inside of my skull.

“You’ve been in and out of it for a day.”

“I can’t even remember,” I say.

“At least you’re finally catching up on your sleep.”

“Who says I haven’t been sleeping?” I tell myself to calm the hell down. But when have I ever not been confrontational? I sink into my bed, deciding I do feel well-rested. Who knew the answer to insomnia was getting a concussion? Somewhere Nurse Sky Lopez is shouting about my faulty science knowledge.

“You’ve had visitors,” my nurse tells me. He points to the table on the other side of my bed. There are wild flowers picked from the garden, hand written notes folded up. There are latex gloves blown up and scribbled on with Sharpie. One says, “Ride ‘em, cowgirl!” and another says, “Get well soon!”

“Are we still at Horse Creek?”

“Nope,” he says. “Welcome to Hamilton Hospital. We’re the sister hospital to the recovery center.”

“Why does that sound familiar?”

He gives me a pitying smile. “This is where we treat patients who require psychiatric help.”

I jolt up and swing my feet off the bed. Helen really did it; she sent me off!

“You’re not in psych,” he tells me.

Blood pumps adrenaline to my heart.

“Maybe you should
lead
with that!” I shout.

He’s looking around the room, looking for help, when Hutch walks in. Hutch is wearing black cowboy boots covered in dust, his jeans tucked into them. His gray T-shirt stretches across his broad chest muscles. The vein in his throat throbs, and his jaw tightens. He looks at my nurse, then he looks at me.

“Are you okay? I heard shouting.”

Despite how painful it is, I laugh. “Did you know that Nurseman over here wants to be a comedian?”

My nurse turns scarlet, mumbles something under his breath, then leaves. Hutch shakes his head, chuckling. He tucks his thumb into the waistband of his jeans.

“Already causing trouble?”

I pull the covers over my head and groan. I don’t want him to see me like this. My mouth tastes gross, and I think that stale smell is coming from me. I hear a chair being dragged from one end of the room to the other. Hutch’s heavy footsteps march back and forth.

“There,” he says. “Better?”

I pull the covers down, ready to squint. The room is a shade darker now that he’s hung an extra bed sheet over the window.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling myself blush.

River Thomas does not blush.

River Thomas also does not ride horses.

River Thomas should stop referring to herself in the third person.

Hutch pulls up a chair and sits in front of me. He rests his elbows on his knees, leans forward a bit. I sink into my pillow, hating this brace around my neck. A wave of anger and frustration washes over me.

“Why are you crying?” he whispers. He grazes his finger across the top of my hands. It’s the softest touch, like he’s ready to pull away if anyone were to come in.

“I just feel stupid. I don’t know what I did that made Apollo kick me off.” I pull the covers over my face so Hutch doesn’t have to see me blubbering. I wish I could knock myself out so I would stop crying. I hate crying. I hate the tightness in my chest and the way my eyes swell. I haven’t cried since my dad died, and that was the first time since my mom left. I make it a point to not cry when I fall down, or get dumped, or a guy treats me like shit, or when I fuck up. Most importantly, I don’t let other people see me cry. “Don’t look at me.”

Hutch pulls gently on the covers. I let them fall. I tell myself I’m too tired to be contrary. I let him see the worst of me.

“You’re not stupid,” he tells me. “Something spooked Apollo. Maybe a snake.”

I hold his hand like a lifeline. My thoughts feel fuzzy, but there’s one image that stays with me. Taylor grinning while Hutch was carrying me away. Could Taylor have spooked my horse from so far away? That’s a pretty big accusation without having proof. I’m a newbie on a horse; they expected me to fall. Maybe it was a snake.
A snake named Taylor.

“When did everyone bring these in?” I point to the gifts on my bedside table.

“Last night.” He thumbs the side of my hand.

I can feel my eyes start to flutter shut. I could fall back asleep with his brown eyes watching me. Something inside of me feels all tangled up, like I’m caught in a net and can’t get myself free. I pull my hand away and drink from the glass of water at my bedside.

“Thank everyone for me,” I say.

“Thank them yourself.” He smiles ruefully. “Now that you’re awake, we’re going to transfer you to our medical wing.”

“Oh, goodie,” I say. “Now everyone can visit me and stare.”

“And take turns taking care of you. Including me.”

The tickling feeling spreads from my belly to my toes.

“Before you start saying any more cute things, let’s have that talk you mentioned during your ride.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You really want to talk about that now?”

“Why not?” I sit up and mold my pillows to my back. This bed gets less and less comfortable by the minute. “I’ve got nowhere to be and you’re supposed to take me back, aren’t you?”

“Let’s go, Trouble.”

• • •

I check out. There’s paperwork to fill out, and when I write Sky’s name as my emergency contact number, the nurse at the counter gives me an off look.

They insist on taking me out in a wheelchair, despite my protests that I’m perfectly able to walk. I hold my cardboard box with my wilting flowers and my notes. I still have to read them.

“It feels like I got fired from the hospital,” I say.

Hutch pushes my wheelchair. Nurseman opens the door for us. I wave at him on the way out. In hindsight, I should’ve been nice to him. Sky always complains that she gets rude people who think they’re at a hotel instead of the E.R.

“You’re the only person I’ve met that doesn’t want to be taken care of.”

“That’s right,” I say. “I can take care of myself. Been doing it all my life. Why should I stop now?”

“I don’t know. Some people like accepting help. Some people like being doted on.”

“Is that how you treat the girls you date?”

I wish I didn’t have this stupid neck brace so I could see the reaction on his face.

“Not that we dated,” I tell him. “Just had the one night of passionate sex all strangers have.”

Stop. Talking.

When we get to the HCRC van, Hutch turns around. He leans against the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Did you shrink your shirt in the wash on purpose?” I ask. “Not that I’m complaining. I can just count all your abs underneath.” I grab the wheels of my chair and push myself forward. “One, two…”

“River, stop deflecting.”

I sigh. “Stop studying me. I’m not your case, okay?”

He shakes his head, and now I know I’ve done it. I’ve pushed him as far as he can go, which isn’t very far. It’s not that I want to push him away.

Well, yeah, it is.

I want him. I want Hutch so much. But I need to keep him at a distance. A distance where I can admire his rough-and-tumble hotness, and the softness of his lips and eyes.

He helps me into the front seat and buckles me in to wait while he goes to return the chair. In the van, I flip through the stations. Country, bluegrass, country, top forty, rap and country, and finally classic rock.

When he comes back in, I can only glance at him without stretching my neck. I sing off-key to Sweet Child O’Mine.

“Can you explain why Horse Creek is called Horse Creek if I haven’t seen a creek?”

Hutch pulls out of the driveway. He taps the wheel with his fingers. He clears his throat. He fiddles with the rearview mirror even though it’s fine. He’s a study in nervousness, and I love it. I don’t know why it sends a thrill through me. True, he has reason to be nervous. Everything that’s happened between us could cost him his job. It’s more than a job to him. It’s his life. I’ve never had that. My life includes drunks and people who gamble their rent money away. Hutch is the one who saves them, while I make them worse. Whatever is happening between us, I know I want him to keep that life.

I never went to college, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want to throw away everything he’s worked for just because of our little tryst. What would happen to me? I might get kicked out. I could go to another facility. What would happen to Hutch? He’d be fired. It could go in his files. How would he ever find a job again if his references said, “Inappropriate conduct with patients”?

The thought of Hutch losing everything because of me is sobering. I stop singing, and watch the road stretch before us. I wish I could turn my head to the side and look out the window to avoid him.

These highs and lows are killing me. I know I need to get a hold of myself. I still have a little over two months to go in my program. Those months will get awfully uncomfortable if we can’t make this right.

Then Hutch makes a left where we’re supposed to make a right.

“Where are you going?” My heart thumps in my chest.

“You’ll see.”

Five minutes later we’re in, surprise, more woods. He stops the van, then comes over to my side and opens the door.

“I know, I know, you can handle it yourself.” His dark eyes stare sternly at me, leaving no room for argument. “But the path is rocky. I don’t want you to hurt yourself again. Let’s face it—you and nature aren’t on good terms yet.”

“Jerk,” I mutter, as he scoops me up from the passenger seat and into his arms. Actually I’m thinking, let’s keep going. Let’s get as far away from here as possible. Just keep holding me like this.

The cool breeze blows my hair over my face, which does a great job of concealing my smile.

“You know, being a New Yorker, I should be afraid you’re going to take me to your secret cabin and turn me into taxidermy.”

“Oh yeah?” he huffs and puff as the incline steepens. “Why aren’t you?”

“Because I don’t think you’re into taxidermy.”

I feel the vibration of his laugh go right through me.

Then, I hear it. The trickle of water against rocks, the chirping of birds I could never name, the chatter of wild squirrels. Hutch sets me down at a tiny waterfall.

“Welcome to Horse Creek.” He says creek like “
crick.
”

“Crick?”

“That’s right, creek.”

“You’re saying crick.”

“Cree-eek.” He sits beside and a little ahead of me, so I’ve got a perfect view of him flanked by trees and far-away mountaintops. As pristine and beautiful as this place is, untouched by man, like we’re the only two people in the world, I think I prefer the gorgeousness that is Hutch.

“Much better,” I tell him. “I’ll teach you how to speak, and you can prevent the wild from devouring me.”

“They were originally going to build the Center closer to this. But the locals were afraid it would damage the ecosystem.”

“It’s nice that there are still some sacred places left. Imagine what the world is going to look like in the future. All cement blocks. Food probably won’t be real. We’ll get those freeze-dried foods like the astronauts get.”

He makes a face. I reach out and touch his nose. Then I find my hand has gotten away from me, and I’m caressing the side of his face. Traitorous arm. What were we just talking about?

“I’d like to be frozen one day,” he says, “like Han Solo in carbonite. I’d give instructions to unfreeze me in a hundred years, so I can see if the future you’re envisioning is real.”

“Then I’ll freeze myself too. Just so I can gloat about being right.”