Recovery | On Hiatus

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

      I RASIED MY arms above my head and stretched, wincing as pain shot through my ankle. It still hurt, but the ice pack Camille gave me last night helped to significantly lower the swelling. The ibuprofen didn't hurt, either.

      I glanced over at the clock. 11:13am. Camille was probably making lunch. I'd surely missed breakfast by now.

      My eyes trained on the sleeping figure at the foot of my bed and I smiled. Hayden must've dragged a chair from his room into mine last night after I fell sleep. His face was concealed by his arms on the foot of the bed, and I cringed at the thought of how his back would feel after sleeping in such an uncomfortable position all night. I quietly slid my legs off the bed, careful not to wake Hayden or put too much weight on my ankle as I stood. There wasn't much pain, but I knew better than to try and stand on it. I could end up making things so, so much worse.

      "Scarlet?" Hayden mumbled groggily, lifting his head to squint in my direction.

      "Sorry," I said, walking over to him with a slight limp. "I didn't mean to wake you."

      He shook his head and sat straighter, stretching his arms in front of him like a cat. "It's fine. I haven't really been asleep that long, anyway. I more of less just dozed off for a few." He nodded towards the door. "You heading downstairs?"

"I was going to see if your mom was making lunch or not."

"I doubt it." He leaned back in the chair. "She didn't get to sleep until pretty late last night. I'm not even sure she's up, yet."

I nodded as way of response. After a moment of silence, I started to feel confused. Hayden wasn't interrogating me on what had happened. That's usually the first thing he does after he sees the results of my last attack. "You're not grilling me on last night." Or who attacked me and why.

"You're not going to tell me," he pointed out. "If I want to know who's attacking you, I'll have to figure it out myself. And, until that opportunity arises, I'm trying not to press it." I didn't like that answer, but it was safer until his 'opportunity' arrived. I supposed it was a small win on my part. "Besides," he added, "right now, I'm a little more concerned with how you're doing over the who."

Last I heard, he said he didn't care about me. That was still a conversation we needed to have. "Why do you care?" I asked cautiously, careful to avoid sound accusatory. My heart raced in my chest, anxiously awaiting the answer. I didn't want to hear the same response as before, but I needed to know. I needed to hear him say he really did care. That I meant something to him.

Hayden stood up and strolled toward me, stopping about a foot in front of me. "Do you remember the promise I made to you when we were little?"

"Hayden, we were six."

"What did I promise you?" he pressed.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms defiantly over my chest. The pressure on my bruise hurt, but I held back a wince. I didn't want Hayden to worry any more than he already did. "You promised to always take care of me and keep me safe."

"Yes." He stepped closer and took my face in his hands, my arms dropping to my sides. "And me taking care of you means I care about you."

I looked down, relief flooding through me at the words. "And what you said before? The night we fought?"

"It was a lie. I was upset, and I didn't mean what I said." He forced me to look at him. "I feel responsible over you, yes, but not because of some kind of secret obligation to. I feel responsible over you because I care about you and you're important to me."