Page 38 of The False Flat

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I’m not sure how long we would’ve stayed there like that, me curled in his arms, him rubbing my back, if we hadn’t been interrupted, but the jangle of keys had me pushing away, looking startled at the door.

Chad.

I tried to leap up, but my body, spent from the accident, from the tearing open of my soul, took too long, and he was already inside the door, staring down at me halfway up and Grant still on the floor by the couch.

Time slowed.

Chad stood, anger unfolding on his face. “What the hell?” His overnight bag hit the floor.

“She had an accident. I brought her home from the hospital,” Grant explained.

“You two look like you were pretty cozy next to my couch.”

Grant stood, his jaw clenched as he faced Chad. “Didn’t you hear me say she’d had an accident?”

Chad’s gaze flicked to me. The features of his face seemed unsure what to do, where to settle, concern or anger. They landed somewhere in between. He blinked, moved past Grant, and came to stand in front of me.

“You’re hurt?” His tone was brusque, but the look in his eyes had softened.

His eyes remained on mine as Grant explained. “She fell off her bike during a ride today. An ambulance took her to the ER. I stayed with her to make sure she was okay. She has a concussion.”

“I appreciate you taking care of her.” The appreciation didn’t sound like appreciation. “But I’ll take it from here. You can go.”

Grant moved to where I could see him, where Chad wasn’t completely between us, and looked at me with the concern of a friend. “Is that what you want, Penelope?”

My eyes, no longer focused on his mustache, looked into his. There was so much more to tell, but I’d never told anyone what I’d told him. I’d never let myself trust anyone enough. And I’d known him for what? Six weeks? I didn’t know what that meant. Were we friends now? Or was it the concussion talking?

When I didn’t answer, Chad answered for me: “Of course that’s what she wants. Like I said, we appreciate what you’ve done.”

Chad had no idea what Grant had done, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t tell him how much this meant to me. All my life I’d been told I was fine when I wasn’t, by my family, by myself. Tonight, I’d told someone else I wasn’t, and Grant hadn’t told me to be strong. He’d let me be weak.

“Thank you. Chad’s right. You should go. I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

I hated the smugness on Chad’s face, the possessiveness, like Grant was ruining a moment between the two of us, when it was really the other way around.

“You’ll call if you need anything,” Grant confirmed.

I nodded.

“I’ll go then.”

Chad’s arm came around me, but Grant stepped up to my open side. Without a word, he touched my shoulder and gave me a look that conveyed sympathy, telling me without telling me he knew what we’d shared wasn’t trivial. I wanted to collapse again at that look, but Chad’s body straightened, a lingering bit of self-control that kept him from throwing Grant out.

When Grant left, Chad pulled me into a hug. “Are you okay?”

I remained quiet for several seconds, and then I said, “I don’t know.”

He pulled back and looked into my face, his brows knit.

“You don’t know?”

“I’m in a little pain, but that’s not the problem. I’m . . . I had to go to the hospital, and—”

He rolled his eyes. “Right. It’s not a big deal. Big people go to the doctor.” He pulled me to his chest and sighed. “You’ve got to get over this phobia.”

“It’s more than that.”