paper rings (l.h.)

61

Mary didn't mention Dr. Hemmings' late night visit to her room the next morning to Luke.

She pretended to be excited when Luke broke the news that she got to leave earlier than anyone thought she would. She thanked her Grandma endlessly for bringing up her warmest pair of sweatpants, hoodie, fuzzy socks and slippers. Her Mom even began bringing the first wave of boxes down from home to make the transition a bit easier.

"You know," Mary looks up at Luke as he wheels her down to the lobby. "I could probably walk myself to the car."

He doesn't look down at her, and although she is eternally grateful for his presence here she is glad. She knows she looks terrible — her hair is unwashed and messy, the bags under her eyes have multiplied after her lack of sleep the night before, not to mention she hadn't showered in a day or two and she felt like she smelled of floodwater. But the thick glasses the nurse had given her to wear hid those bags, at least.

Instead, he looks ahead — careful not to run into anything, or anyone, on his way to his waiting car. "You're filled with painkillers, my love," he coos, leaning down to press a gentle kiss atop her head. "You look great in those glasses, though."

"I can't wait for you to meet Olive," Mary grins up at him, grabbing the hand that rests on the hands of her wheelchair once they've come to a stop. "She's resilient."

Luke grins. "You've named her."

"I crossed a flooded street to save her in a hurricane," she glances into those opal eyes of his, Luke searches for hers but finds only a reflection of himself. "And I basically didn't put her down until I knew we were both safe. We're bonded."

Luke pulls open his passenger side door and rests Mary's crutches against the side of the car. Mary, holding his strong hand for balance, lowers herself in slowly. She tries to ignore the pain in her leg, the slight headache that never really went away. Maybe if she pretends, she'll forget it was there at all.

"I've always wanted a dog," he smiles, grabbing her seatbelt and buckling her in.

"You don't have to do that—" Mary begins, nearly swatting him off as a slight chuckle leaves her lips. She was grateful for the sunshine, for the warmth of it against her face. Like it melted the ice from her bones.

But a soft kiss to her lips shut her right up, her hand instantaneously finding his chest as a breathy laugh escaped his lips. "You're going to be annoyed of me soon."

Once Luke shut the door, Mary took one quick glance into her passenger side mirror to see no white coats or blue scrubs stopping Luke before pulling off. No goodbye committee, or mother who simply wanted to say goodbye before their departure. No one but a few families having a cigarette or two before returning inside.

"And your band?" She looks over at him, could basically see his mind shut down at the question. She shouldn't have asked.

A muscle flexes in his jaw. "I couldn't give two shits about that band if I am kicked out because of this."

"If they do," Mary reaches over to release her hand from his, and instead rub gentle lines down his scalp, his neck, his shoulders. "Then you will go solo and show them exactly how much you need them to succeed."

He shakes his head. "I don't know if I'd do it without them. I think, if I didn't have this band," he looks over at me, his grin genuine but sad as he lets out a deep sigh. "It wouldn't be the end of the world. I could see what it meant to be normal for a while."

"It's not all it's chalked up to be, either," she grins, Luke's eyes meeting hers as he pulls onto the interstate. So many memories have been made with him behind the wheel. She couldn't help but laugh at herself back before everything, how scared she was to even let him drive her home. Now he's kissed every inch of her body twice, knows her every secret, there is nothing she wouldn't trust him with.