“I have an extra slice of chocolate cream pie from lunch. I think Mom is trying to bribe you to open your eyes with her treats. I know she didn’t send it for me.”

I had lost weight, too. About seven pounds, and on my five-foot-five frame it looked like a lot. Mom was definitely trying to put weight on me.

My phone dinged and I glanced down at it.

Don’t forget the game tonight. The text was from Dylan. He wanted me home for several reasons. Maddy’s potty training was just one of them.

I won’t, I texted back, then looked back at Crawford.

“I’m ready to have you back. I miss you.”

He didn’t respond. Not even a flicker.

Tears stung my eyes, and I wiped them away before setting my bag down and settling in the chair beside him. I’d read soon, but for now I just wanted to hold his hand and watch him breathe. Reassure myself that Crawford was in there and he’d come back to me. Soon.

CHAPTER FOUR

“THAT COFFEE IS shit. Here, take this. It’s yours.”

I had been reading when a cup of coffee that smelled like heaven—definitely not stale hospital coffee—was placed under my nose.

I knew that voice. He was back. The slut. But he had coffee. Good coffee. And I’d been awake since four this morning staring at the ceiling fan in my room. I wanted good coffee.

I took the cup before looking up at him. “Thanks,” I all but choked out. That was hard to say to him. But I had been taught good manners. He was being nice because I was Knox’s sister. I could accept that.

“You get here early. I’m never here this early. Couldn’t sleep last night, so I figured I’d get my day started.”

Did him buying me good coffee mean I had to converse with him? Probably so. Besides, his uncle was sick. Where was my compassion?

“How’s your uncle?” I asked, since that was the only part of his life I was concerned about. I didn’t like to see people lose a loved one.

He shrugged. “Stubborn, mouth of a sailor, mean as fuck, and pretty damn lovable all the same.”

That wasn’t the answer I had been expecting. But I wondered if anyone ever got a real answer out of this guy.

“So,” he continued, “we’ve had coffee, we share a brother, and we both spend time at this place daily. I think this makes us friends.”

“We do not share a brother” was my very quick response.

He chuckled and took a sip of his coffee. “Kappa Sigma would disagree. Brothers for life.”

I wanted to roll my eyes but the coffee was delicious, so I didn’t.

“Why are you here all the time, Vale?” he asked, surprising me with my name. I had not given him that information.

“How do you know my name?” I snapped.

“We share a brother. Now, what keeps you here staring at this wall?” he asked as he pointed to the wall in front of me that held nothing but a single clock.

“If we share a brother, you should already know that.”

“Touché,” he replied, then took another sip. “Okay. For argument’s sake, we don’t share an actual brother. I know Knox’s taste in beer, cards, and women. I don’t know much else. Like I didn’t know until yesterday he had a sister. So, can I please know what my new friend does up here all day long?”

I was being difficult. Why? This guy was just being nice. So he was a flirt and a man-whore. Did this matter to me? Was I just that judgmental? God, I hoped not.

“My boyfriend is in a coma.” Saying it out loud hurt. Like slice-through-your-chest-and-make-it-hard-to-breathe kind of hurt.

“Ouch,” he said, as if he felt the pain that was currently shooting through me. “How did it happen?”

I needed to talk about this. It was good for me to tell someone. To try to accept it. “A car accident the night of graduation. I was in the car, too.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, and dropped his hand to rest his wrist on his thigh while holding his cup with the same hand. “What’s it been—a month now?”

I nodded. It had been a month and a day.

“Why can’t you sit in his room? Being out here alone every day seems … lonely.”

He sure was full of a lot of questions.

“I go in for three hours while his parents take a break. It’s my time to read to him.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at me so that I had to either meet his gaze or stare straight ahead rudely.

“So you just sit here all day doing what?”

I appreciated the good coffee. I really did. It was the best coffee I’d had in a while, but this guy was nosy and I wasn’t in the mood to defend myself. If I wanted to sit here all day I could. Not him, not my parents, not my brothers, no one had to understand it. I was doing what I had to do to get by each day. My life was in Crawford’s room and I wasn’t leaving him.

“Yes,” I replied.

He nodded and took another sip of his coffee, then turned his attention to the wall in front of us. “You must really love him.”

“I have since I was six years old and he brought me my favorite brownie to school and snuck it into my lunchbox.” That was more than I’d said about him and our past to anyone since the accident. But it had come out easily.

Slate didn’t make fun of me. Instead he smiled. A small smile that made his lips curl up only a little. “That’s a nice memory.”

Yes, it was. I had millions of those memories.

“Never been in love myself. Don’t believe in it. But it’s nice to hear someone talk about it who does.” He took another long sip of his coffee, then stood.

“I hope your boy opens his eyes soon,” he said. “I’ve got to go see the old man and let him beat me in a game of poker. Makes him feel like he’s done something.”

I didn’t imagine Slate let many people win in this world. He seemed to expect to win it all. Knowing he was letting his uncle beat him made him seem a little more human. That, and the coffee. The coffee was nice.

“Thanks. I needed this,” I said, raising the cup a bit.

He winked. “Don’t we all.” Then he turned and walked down the hall.

I may have watched until he turned left and out of sight. Not that I liked him, but he had a nice walk.

“Someone said Slate Allen was in here.” A nurse interrupted my thoughts, which needed interrupting.

So his last name was Allen.

“He just went that way. To his uncle’s room,” I said, pointing down the hallway.

She grinned brightly. “Thank you!” Then she hurried after him.

That was a different one from the one yesterday. Slate Allen really did get around. The nurses here had to be a couple years older than him, but they didn’t seem to care. No wonder he was so full of himself.

Slate was attractive. I’d give him that. He had the startling good looks that could stop traffic. But I didn’t care about that. My heart wasn’t moved by a handsome face and a chiseled body. It belonged to a guy in a hospital room and it always would. One day I’d tell Crawford about all the things that happened while he was asleep and we’d smile. Not because he had been in a coma, but because he woke up.

He was a fighter and he had a lot to fight for.

My phone vibrated in my bag and I knew the text messages had started up again. Last night I’d played basketball and eaten homemade strawberry cake with cream cheese icing while talking to Maddy about using the potty. Everyone had gotten a piece of me. They needed to give me a break today and just let me be.