"𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞."
Lou Johnston and Eddy "Boone" Higgins, two former best friends whose paths diverged after high school. Now, years later, they find themselves inexplicably draw...
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The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only thing filling the silence, save for the faint sound of Boone’s chair creaking as he leaned back, legs stretched out in front of him. I flipped through the TV channels, my thumb pressing down on the remote with more force than necessary. Every channel was either some cheesy soap opera or a talk show I couldn’t care less about. I groaned when I landed on another infomercial, trying to stifle my irritation.
Boone snorted, barely hiding his amusement. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen daytime TV before.”
I shot him a sideways glance, pretending to be annoyed, but the small grin tugging at the corner of my mouth probably gave me away. “It’s all crap,” I muttered, flicking to another channel and grimacing at the sight of a game show. “I’m gonna lose my mind if I have to watch one more episode of *Wheel of Fortune*.”
Boone chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Patience, darlin’. You’re not goin’ anywhere just yet.”
I rolled my eyes and settled on some cooking show, if only because it was the least offensive option. “Don’t patronize me, Boone.”
His grin grew, but he didn’t say anything, just squeezed my hand a little tighter. He hadn’t let go since the moment he’d barged into my hospital room, refusing to leave my side even after the doctors cleared him. He wasn’t exactly in fighting shape, still bruised and bandaged up, but he’d sweet-talked his way into being allowed out of his own bed. He’d been walking around like a proud rooster ever since, mostly just to get them to stop fussing over him.
It was hard to be mad about it, though. Not when he was here, sitting next to me, his hand wrapped around mine like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
Boone let out a soft breath, his thumb rubbing slow circles over my knuckles. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”
I shrugged, trying to play it off. “You’re still here, aren’t ya? Guess I didn’t scare you off too bad.”
He shook his head, but there was something softer in his eyes now, something unspoken that made my chest tighten in a way that wasn’t from the injuries. We didn’t need to say it. He knew, and I knew. It was over. We’d made it through.
For a while, we just sat there, the silence between us easy and comfortable. The cooking show droned on in the background, some chef talking about marinating meat, but I wasn’t paying much attention. I was too busy watching Boone, the way his eyes softened every time they landed on me, the way his fingers never stopped moving, like he needed that contact to keep himself steady.
