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Dad got worse a few days ago and the head doctor said it didn't look very promising for him. But for the past day he's been wide awake again and Calum has managed to drag me out of the hospital after I refused to leave for the third day in a row. He and my father are convinced I need to sleep in a real bed and not an uncomfortable armchair for once.
I decked out in the cab halfway to Calum's apartment, but I groggily awaken somewhere between Calum knocking my feet into the doorframe to the lobby entrance and walking out of the elevator on his floor.
"You didn't have to carry me all the way," I tiredly mumble once he sets me down gently to stand on the floor after he's closed the apartment door behind us.
"Yes I did," he smiles down at me fondly. "You're barely holding yourself up right now."
I take notice of how his hands are supporting me by my elbows. I let out an involuntary yawn and walk back a few lazy steps. "We should watch a movie."
"Scotty, the only thing you should be doing right now is going to sleep. You're exhausted."
"That's why the Keurig was invented."
"Scotty—"
"Actually, I think I want some wine. Do you have any?" I walk over to the kitchen and start looking through cupboards.
"Scotty." I turn around when Calum pulls at my hand and has me face him. "Go to bed."
"I don't want to," I murmur. "I fell asleep on accident in the car here, but I can't go to sleep when I know dad could get worse again any second. I need to be ready."
"Nothing bad is going to happen to him because you go to sleep for a few hours—in a real bed might I add."
"Please, Calum. I don't want to go to sleep right now. Maybe I should just go home and stay up with Emma, or I can go back to the hospital—god, Calum, why did I even let you take me away from there?"
"All right," he gives in. "I'll make the coffee."
"Thank you."
"But just know that if you fall asleep I'll wake you up if there are any news about your dad."
"Calum?"
"Yeah?" His back is turned towards me and his left hand is reaching out for a coffee pod, but it never makes it into the Keurig because he turns his body to face me when I stay silent. I bite down and try to stop the lump in my throat from rising. But it's impossible.
"I don't want him to die." My lips tremble and tears brim my eyes leaving my vision blurry for a few seconds before they depart to roll down my cheeks.
