Emyln

I glare at the nurses around the ICU. Despite the drugs going through my system, there's nothing that can prevent me from being pissed at them. For the past two hours, I have been demanding to see Hains because I need to make sure he's okay. I know him – he's blaming himself for everything that's happened when it's pretty damn obvious that we both have equal parts in the blame here. But no. They won't let me see him because he's not family.

I could scream.

When the nurse comes to fluff up my not-so-fluffy pillows, I harden my glare, adding in as much hatred as I can possibly give. It's not fair that they're doing this to me. You'd think they'd let my boyfriend come in and support me through this. Fuck. He was with me when that asshole of a drug dealer decided to scare me into not talking when I'd already agreed to not speak. I want Hainsey here with me. It's ridiculous that they're not letting him come to see me when I clearly need him.

"Keep frowning and your face is going to get stuck like that," the nurse says as she checks my IV.

"Well maybe I wouldn't be frowning if you'd let my boyfriend come see me," I snap back. It's unfair of me to be treating the nurse like this – she's an older lady that's been taking care of me for the past hour and she's been nothing but nice, but I can't help it. She's not willing to break the rules for a single moment and let Hains in to see me.

The nurse looks at me through her half-moon spectacles. It's the same look my grandma would give me when she caught me sneaking candy from the cupboard, one that she'd get before reprimanding me for spoiling my appetite before dinner. "Your family arrived moments ago. I'm just making sure everything's okay with you before they come in."

I shake my head. Yeah, I'm beyond happy that my family is here, but they're not who I want to see right now. After the shit that just happened, I need to make sure Hains is okay and not beating himself up. "No. I want Hainsey Stone in here. Do you hear me? Tell my mom or dad – whichever parent it is that's here – that I want Hainsey first. I need to talk to him."

She sighs. "You know stubbornness isn't something to be proud of, right?"

I shrug. I sure as hell like how stubborn I am. If I didn't have that personality trait, I don't think I would've gotten Hains back.

"Fine. I'll let your father know," she mutters, turning away and heading for the doors.

I slouch against the pillows and stare at the ceiling, thinking about what I'm going to say to him. I'm still a little ticked that he didn't tell me, but I'm mainly ticked at myself for not cluing in on why he could possibly not want me to come with him. I should've known things would be dangerous.

A couple of minutes pass by, and then I see him walk through the doors. He looks like hell; his pants are covered in mud, he looks tired, he's tense, and his hair is a disaster of waves from the rain. But as soon as he sees me, any lingering tiredness is gone. He rushes up to the side of the bed and looks me over. I fight a smile. He's assessing the damage before doing anything that could harm me.

So, to speed up the process, I reach up and grab the collar of his sweater and pull his lips down to mine. The actions strain my body a little and make the right side of my chest burn, but I push past it. He kisses me back, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me closer. While the kiss is demanding, I can tell he's yielding to my injuries. In reality, it's probably a good thing – I do feel like I've been run over by a semi-truck – but my body and heart still crave more.

Finally, like the gentleman he is, he pulls away. I pout as best I can. Why did he have to ruin a perfectly good moment? A small smile plays on his lips as he shakes his head at me. "I should have told you, Ems. I'm sorry."

I shrug. If he's seen my dad already, I'm sure he's gotten an earful about how we share equal portions of blame in this situation or something along those lines. That's just how my dad is: he sees both sides of the story. I guess that's why he's a psychiatrist.

Looking down, I pick at a loose thread in the scratchy hospital sheets. "I should have been smarter," I say. "You were insistent on me not coming and I just kept pushing when I shouldn't have."

"Ems..." he says.

I shake my head. "I'm sorry for following you, Hains. I'm sorry for putting you through more shit than need be. One person you love has already gone through hell and ended up hurting herself. You didn't need to see it happen to another person you love." I feel my eyes beginning to well up. "Texting me when you left and got home would've sufficed. I should have known that things were okay with this whole drug thing – you've been doing it for years and never gotten hurt. I'm sorry."

I don't know when he does it, but his arms are around me and my head is resting on his chest. It takes me a moment to realize he's now sitting on the bed, but I'm not complaining. Having him here brings a familiarity I didn't know I was missing. It feels good, and as I cry, I can feel the fear and tenseness extracting itself from my body.

"I was s-scared," I hiccup.

"I know," he whispers soothingly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, Ems." I feel something warm splat against my forehead, and when I look up, I see that he's crying, too.

"Don't blame yourself," I say, my voice sounding nasally as hell. "You were –"

"Trying to help," he interjects. "I know, I know."

I laugh a little. "Why are our lives so fucked up?"

I feel him smile against my forehead. "No idea," he replies. "But not everything is fucked up – we have each other. Something good always comes from the things that knock us off our feet."

"True love has a habit of coming back," I murmur, breathing in his scent.

He laughs, and I feel his body vibrate against mine. "That has got to be the cheesiest thing I have ever heard you say."

"Maybe," I laugh, "but it's true."

Tipping my chin up and looking past my tired eyes and tear-streaked face, he looks at me and says, "Damn right."

And then he's kissing me again and I feel like I'm dying but slowly being brought back to life in the best way possible. I don't want the kiss to end, but it does. Way too fucking fast for my liking.

Lifting up his left hand, he shows me a medium-sized envelope that's been stamped by the University of Ottawa. My jaw drops open and I reach for the thing. He, however, keeps it out of my grip.

"We need to talk about this," he says.

I begin to feel a little sheepish. Maybe my idea was a little out there now that I know the truth. Though drugs are involved, he still cares about his mom – he's not going to want to leave. "In my defense," I say before he can ignite a conversation. "I thought you had used the money for the divorce. I didn't know the whole truth when I sent this. So please don't be mad at me."

He smiles as he pulls out one sheet of paper. I watch as his eyes flitter back and forth over each line he reads from start to finish. When he's done, he looks at me. "Why would I be mad?"

I blink. "What?"

"Christ, Ems," he says. "How could I be mad at your for doing this for me? This" – he makes a gesture to the paper – "is something I've always wanted."

I blatantly stare at him. "So are you saying you want to come to Ontario with me?" I ask.

"After tonight," he says, "I don't ever want to leave your side again. And if your dad can find someone to help my mom, it's probably best if we're as far away from each other as possible while she goes through treatment." He pauses. "If she agrees to. But even if she doesn't, I can't let her control my life anymore. I want to come with you. The life we deserve is within reach and I don't plan on giving up my chance."

It's in this moment that I think I could burst from the sudden rush of happiness I feel. He got in! He's going to come with me. We're going to fulfill our dream of going to university together. I could start bawling again.

"So," he says, tossing the folder to the floor. "Before I exceed my tear quota for the day, how are you feeling?"

My head is spinning, but I still manage to respond. "I'm okay. My side hurts a little, but I'm okay. I've been told the internal bleeding is slowing down so I'm not going to need surgery. They also told me I probably passed out because of the pain. That dickhead hit me pretty damn hard."

"I could kill him," Hains mutters.

I shake my head. "He's not worth it. After tonight, you're never going to have to deal with him ever again."

Hains nods, staring at me in the process. Actually, he stares at me for a good twenty seconds and it begins to creep me out a little.

"Is there something on my face?" I ask, subconsciously touching my cheek.

He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm just trying to figure out how I managed to snag someone as beautiful and smart as you."

What term was it Rosa and Val used? Oh yeah, Swoon. That's exactly how I feel right now. That fact that he's asking that makes my heart melt. I should be asking that question. How did I manage to snag him after the way I hurt him? It's so surreal. The boy that's been my best friend for years, the only man I've ever loved, the person whose heart I broke – he's mine again. He owns every part of me, including the pieces I never knew I had. I love him so much.

Kissing the bridge of my nose, the scar he gave me, he murmurs, "I love you, too, Ems."

I'm ready to pull him in for another epic, body-melting make-out session, but the doors to the ICU open and I see Rosa, Val, Dad, and my mom come walking it. I have to blink. Seeing my mom and dad in the same room is an odd sight after everything that's happened, and I haven't seen it for years. While it's a little awkward, I do sort of like it. I'm proud of the fact they can push away their differences for me.

"You good with this?" Hains whispers in my ear.

I notice that he hasn't moved from my side – his arms are still around me, his body close, and he plants a quick kiss on my temple. A small bubble of laughter builds up inside me. I'm sure Mom has said something to Dad about Hains and I sleeping together by now, so what's the point of him moving from where he is in this moment? The two of us are connected in a way that can't be undone.

I love him.

He loves me.

And we both know it's time that our lives weren't dictated by the decisions or judgements our parents make.

We're the best versions of ourselves when we're together and no one will ever be able to take that away from us.

"Yeah," I whisper, squeezing his hand. "As long as you're with me, I'm better than good."